Author’s Note: Sue Vincent over at Sue Vincent’s Daily Echo posted a photo prompt to be interpreted any which way. This is my take on it.
It was an open invitation that led me to you.
An unlocked door.
A slightly opened gate.
I wasn’t worried about the moss overgrowing the pillars
like moss on a limestone tombstone.
I wasn’t worried about the jungle of trees on the gate’s other side.
I wasn’t worried about right or wrong.
I just saw the open gate.
Such an obvious open invitation.
An invitation to adventure or perhaps disaster.
I saw that open gate and it beckoned to me.
I saw that open gate and I had to.
I had to know what was on the other side.
The gate was open and so was my curiosity.
I had to cross the other side.
I needed to know what awaited on the other side.
I approached the open gate.
The slightly opened gate.
I didn’t worry.
I wasn’t afraid.
I approached the open gate and I shoved it open wide.
I didn’t hesitate.
I crossed to the other side
into warmth and warm treed smells and wild bird sounds.
Grackles and English robins and waxwings and kookaburras
All of them disregarding their natural habitats on the other side of that gate.
All of them in musical joyful harmony.
Crocuses and hibiscus and day lilies and marigolds and stone cactuses.
All of them growing and blooming despite their different soiled needs.
All of them in harmonious scented joy.
Before I could put my amazement into words or thoughts,
You appeared before me.
A masked man in a hooded black cloak.
A masked man holding an iron and marcasite scythe.
You held your black gloved hand to me in an open invitation.
An invitation that was mine to take or reject.
And I understood.
And I wasn’t afraid.
I stepped forward and I took your hand in mine.
It was both warm and cold and strangely comforting.
“Come.” you whispered in a voice that was both harsh and gentle.
And I was not afraid.
I walked away with you.