Pete

“Open the door Pete !”  
The phrase keeps on repeating in my head like it is some kind of a reminder. I tried to ignore but it just keeps on coming at random. From time to time, a ringing, a door bell, chimes slowly in the background. The mellow sound dances with the words, it sounds like an almost sad waltz that no tear could resist.

“Open the door Pete, please!”
I don’t know what door it is talking about. I’ve been living in the wilderness since so long that I couldn’t recall what a door looked like, what a wall looked like. What a home felt like. But still, there’s something so friendly about the voice, I feel like I almost knew it.

“Why are you not answering Pete, please open the door!”
I still don’t know where the voice is coming from but at this point I almost feel like it doesn’t exist anymore. But the doorbell doesn’t seem to fade. The chiming is getting intense day by day, like a beacon that burns brighter when things get darker.

“I miss you pete, please op….”
The chiming slowly faded in the background, the voice is gone. I almost feel sad about it. I started to get used to it but I think it’s for the best. When you learned only to live in the wilderness, no doorbell can bring you back once you’ve crossed the forest

She shrieked as she held his lifeless body. No doctor could contain her as she wept and cried all the tear of her body. Her heart broke into thousands of flames as she looked into the forest he meticulously drew the firebreaks, into his arms.

Goodbye, Pete.

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