Inquisitive: Part 6
By Hassan Izzo
At some point I had burst into tears and cried for what felt like an eternity. But now as I continued down this endless corridor, I had no more tears to cry and virtually nothing left to give. There were times when I felt like laying down and giving up but something stirred within me whenever I thought this; some kind of deep-rooted survival instinct that compelled me to keep going. It was an instinct that was definitely getting weaker, though and I could feel the last reserves of my courage ebbing away.
As I continued to traipse along, the words ‘it’s the hope that kills you’ materialised in my mind in a way that taunted and mocked me for continuing to put one foot in front of the other. I began to slow down, my feet falling into a shuffling rhythm as I began to mentally unravel. Soon I would stop completely. I took a deep breath, ready to let out a sigh that would represent the last of my strength. I hoped that when leaving my body, I would stumble into something hard; something that had appeared from nowhere. I took a step back and took in what was before me. I had reached the end of the corridor and not only was there a wall as high and as wide as the eye could see but also a door.
‘Please Knock Before Entering’ read the sign on the door. Hesitant, I knocked gently, positive that I’d gone insane and that my mind had conjured up a mirage.
It was a soft, female reply and it froze me in place. Here I was with a door in front of me and an invitation to go inside and I found myself too nervous to do so. Quite frankly I was scared of what lay on the other side. I took a deep breath and steeled myself. I reached out for the doorknob and twisted it before pushing the door open and stepping inside. What I saw took my breath away.
The woman had her back to me as she stared out of a window at a vast, incredible vista. We were on top of a mountain in the middle of a mountain range. The sky was a deep, uninterrupted blue without a cloud in sight. There were several waterfalls dotted around and I could see that way down on the ground it was lusciously green from the trees and vegetation. It was a view that brought to mind the word ‘paradise’. It was a panoramic view of this paradise, where the window that allowed me to see this beautiful sight, stretched to the right and left as far as I could see. I was disturbed to find that when I took my eyes from this view and looked around me, my side of the room was as dark as the corridor. The whole room should have been bathed in rich sunlight but I was still cast in darkness.
My attention returned to the woman by the window. She was tall, slender and wore a blue, shoulder less polka dot dress. Her hair was black but there was more than a few white streaks in it, whilst her skin was a rich bronze, enriched by the sun. I had a nagging feeling of familiarity that I couldn’t place. The woman made a contented sigh and when she turned to face me I gasped. “Grandma?”
“Hello darling. Please, come and join me,” she replied, gesturing to the middle of the room. I started to shuffle over as she glided across the room. As she did so, a table appeared. We reached it at the same time. Her side was a wonderful glass design and her chair a plush leather affair. My side was wooden and dark, and my chair old and rickety. There was so much light! What an amazing view it had with so much freedom, all on the other side of this table. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to get to you sooner, I imagine it feels like you have been here forever.”
Like any other writer, Hassan Antonio Izzo is happiest when he is sat at his desk putting words down on paper; whether it be updating his blog, working on a short story, script, poetry, journalism, or wrestling with his first novel. If anything stands a chance of getting him away from his desk, a few drinks with friends would stand a good one. His biggest claim to fame is that Quentin Tarantino loved his Mr T t-shirt when he met him; which was pretty cool.
A proud South Londoner, you can follow on Twitter @Hassanizzo86