Shut Tight

He slid a hand left to right along the door with a confused, but amused, smirk on his face.
The door puzzled him in its immovability. It seemed to defy the whole point of a door - to open. He’d been pondering it for a few days; since he arrived here, actually. Everything else about his accommodation was normal; eight corners, four walls, a pristine floor. But this door, in its silent dominance of his vision, just remained still. He’d pushed at it, kicked it, put his ear to it and even tried talking to it. There was no keyhole, so no way in trying to cup his hands around his mouth and speak through one, although the idea of someone or something being on the other side of it and hearing him, perhaps even communicating back, was unsettling in itself. He was alone now too, so he had nobody to ask about the door. It was he alone who pondered its presence. Its utter lack of a reveal as to what lay behind it, even a glimpse, was frustrating in its devilish mystery.

He’d watched them close it behind him. The man who spoke, who seemed to have the attention of everyone in the room, seemed lovely. He said a prayer, waved his arms and then stepped back as others came to close it. He recognised the men who came to the door; two of his brothers, his two oldest and closest friends, his sister’s fiancé. They all gave him a long look in their own time; a look of goodbye, a look of sadness, but also a look of affection. Even though his eyes were closed, he saw them. He didn’t realise at the time that from thereon in it was going to be just him and the door, but so it was. The next thing he felt was weightlessness; the room seemed to move with him inside, both horizontally and vertically. Always at a steady pace and with utmost care, before it finally stopped. Then the pattering on the door stirred him; a succession of light thuds and the fainter sounds of crying, and of course the gentle but confident voice of the man who recited prayers. The crying did scare him, he admits that still. It was upsetting and unsettling, more so as the thuds became more muffled before a great thunderous force hit against the door, hard. After that, all of  the sounds stopped at once. He wanted desperately to have one last look outside; to see the sky, the countryside, his friends. Maybe they’d be pleased to see him this time, the great soft sods. He didn't want to remember them looking sad, with tears in their eyes. He smirked again, looking forward to teasing them. He rubbed his hands against the smooth wood of the door again, side to side, wondering what it would take to open it.