The Sanctuary - Literary Art By Inmate Alex Brengle
There is a place I go to be alone. A sanctuary of sorts. Perhaps to you, it won't be. I walk down a hall with many doors, each locked with a key only I hold. The hall goes on seemingly forever, and doors appear with each new step. Lights shine through their thresholds and shadows cross the floor before me. Some are shadows that are decades old that hold memories of loves lost and and sorrows long hurried. I hold a lamp in my hand while I walk the hall, for it is dark. It is dark because of what I put here. I see a wraith before my step. It floods beneath the door and stretches out toward my feet. But the light from my lamp extinguishes the black ribbons that try to restrain me, and I walk on. Farther along, I hear a woman crying. Her sobs weigh on me like a mile stone around my neck as I'm tossed into the sea. I have the key. I could open this door and shout " Stop!" But this ghost is here behind the locked door because it's still part of me. Other rooms have laughter. I don't have to keep those locked like this one. Above me is a shingled roof that covers the mansion of my heart. Tonight the rains fall heavy on it and the the crush of thunder trembles my hands. Witches in the wind. The lamps fall and the wraiths reach out once more. So I run. Lightening stretches across the sky, and for an atom of time I see the end of the hall before me! I'm out of breath and the wraith closes in! My feet storm, step, and step again! And as I feel the anxious fingers tempt the back of my head, the door in front of me opens and... I'm once again here. Before me stands my sanctuary. In it there are good memories somewhere. So I'll look again. *PLEASE SUBSCRIBE TO THE EMAIL LIST IN ORDER TO RECEIVE NOTIFICATIONS OF FREE BOOK GIVEAWAYS, AND NEW BLOG POST* Read the full article










