Pantophobia | Teen Ink


February 21, 2011
By JNH624 BRONZE, Williamson, Georgia
JNH624 BRONZE, Williamson, Georgia
2 articles 0 photos 5 comments

September 17, 2006, 8:47:48 AM

Two hours, seventeen minutes, and forty eight seconds. That was the precise amount of time I sat in the center of my bed, staring intently at the door, waiting for it to open on its own accord. I inched closer to the edge of the bed, but the soft scratching of my pajamas on the flannel sheets sent me scurrying back to my previous position. This was going to be another one of those days.
September 17, 2006, 10:12:32 AM

I had finally managed to work up the gumption to open the door. I crept off of the bed, and over the mound of pillows intended to keep whatever lurked under the bed where it belonged. A metal doorknob in my hand for a single moment, and I recoiled, flinging myself onto the impromptu barricade at the foot of the bed, knocking two of the corduroy pillows through the makeshift façade, and under the bed.
September 17, 2006, 10:13:43 AM

I was frozen in shock, horrified at the prospect of releasing something I had absolutely no control over. But the fear lasted on only a moment before instinct took over, and I snatched the two pillows from under the bed and placed them back in their old positions. I relaxed, and even laughed a little. Why had I done something so stupid? The doorknob! It had burned me! Even I couldn’t have imagined that, right? I climbed back onto the bed and removed one of the pillowcases from the decorative pillows that lined the left side of the mattress. After wrapping it around my hand, I was once again ready to face what I knew must be on the other side of that door.
September 17, 2006, 10:14:28 AM

I have opened the door. I look down the hallway, my gaze passing over the bathroom on the right before resting on the room across the hall. The door was open. This was wrong. I always close my doors. Disregarding sanity and general well being, I raced across the hallway and slammed the door shut. The force of the door closing caused one of the open windows inside to slam shut, inevitably scaring me back into position A.

September 17, 2006, 10:17:08 AM

I sat on my bed, crossed my legs, and put my head in my hands. The window was open. It felt as if the world were crashing down around me. My grip on sanity was all but lost. I slunk down to the foot of the bed, silently crying into my hands.
September 17, 2006, 10:18:25 AM

The man in the corner stood up. He adjusted his pinstripe suit and pulled a handkerchief out of his breast pocket. He sat down next to me, and handed me the tissue.

“Sad times?” his voice didn’t fit his image. Then again, I can’t think of any voice that would fit a man with no face.

“Why are you here?” I tried to sound defiant, but my voice betrayed my true emotions.

“So you can live up to your end of the bargain.”

“You tricked me.”

“You fell for it. Sad times are about to get a whole lot sadder. It’s best you realize that sooner, rather than later.”

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This article has 3 comments.

JNH624 BRONZE said...
on Mar. 2 2011 at 6:06 pm
JNH624 BRONZE, Williamson, Georgia
2 articles 0 photos 5 comments
In which part, haha? At the start, he is afraid of what may lie behind it. Later, he thinks that it burns him.

on Mar. 2 2011 at 10:53 am
DaughteroftheTrumpet BRONZE, East Aurora, New York
2 articles 2 photos 214 comments

Favorite Quote:
Washington Irving once said “There is sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They are messengers of overwhelming grief and of unspeakable love.”

even if it can be confusing sometimes, it is very well written:)

though i do have only one question, why was the narrorator scared of the door?

AsIAm PLATINUM said...
on Mar. 2 2011 at 7:57 am
AsIAm PLATINUM, Somewhere, North Carolina
48 articles 3 photos 606 comments

Favorite Quote:
"According to some, heroic deaths are admirable things. (Generally those who don't have to do it. Politicians and writers spring to mind.) I've never been convinced by this argument, mainly because, no matter how cool, stylish, composed, unflappable, manly, or defiant you are, at the end of the day you're also dead. Which is a little too permanent for my liking." — Jonathan Stroud (Ptolemy's Gate)

This is really good!  It pulled me through tell the end and left me wondering who the man was and what he meant.  Do you plan to continue this?


Just a sidenote, you change tenses when you change times - not sure if you meant to.


Keep up the good work!