Everyone goes into the forest to seek their tree.
Whether it is a coffin or door is a mystery to all.
Today is my day to walk into the forest.
Shall I bring food?
Or perhaps a death shroud?
Both grow heavier on my back with every step I take toward my uncertain future.
The cool, soft forest air soothes and ushers me onward.
My tree calls to me patiently.
Once near the gnarled, hard oak, I reach forth with gentle courage.
He waited a lifetime for his turn to ring The Bell.
It was said that The Bell opened the Next Door.
Even though no one knew where the Next Door led, everyone spoke of it in hushed tones and reverently blinked when referring to The Bell.
His many memories of The Bell were fuzzy, soundless, and surreal which allowed another door to open – for doubt.
The solid sure footsteps he started with now shuffled tentatively while beads of sweat turned into streams.
His hand trembled as he reached for The Bell’s chain. Eyes closed and teeth clenched, he felt the cool links slip into his palm as if they belonged. A soft pull later, a deep dark stillness enveloped him.
A slow blink later, his Next Door appeared and intricately beckoned to be opened.