The Magic Behind The Door

The house was dull and boring to look at, and its red brick grounds were worn out. The door and window frame looked like something out of an old book.

I stood in the grounds, staring at it. It looked lived in, yet deserted; I could sense tears coming from those walls, a lonely wail longing to be loved.

It had longed to be loved for many years.

Curious, I took a tour around the grounds. There weren't many windows to look through, but I felt a strange pull that told me things were not as lonely as they seemed. I felt a warmth emitting from those walls, as if a fire had been lit inside the house, even though there was no sign of life in or around it. The warmth filled my heart with happiness, and suddenly I felt an urge to step inside. I knew I couldn't. I didn't live here or have the keys.

I should have gone home. There was nothing to keep me here, just a pull to the lonely house that was desperate for company.

My first thought was to buy the house, but I was homeless, and I had no money.

I had no family either.

I sat on the worn down door step and cried until it hurt. I had longed for a family and a place I could call home for a long time, but I knew I could not buy this house.

I also knew that, as lonely as it was, a family might live here; I did not want to be the cause of someone losing their home.

It was ten minutes before I noticed that the door had opened by itself. I thought I had imagined it, as the door had been tightly shut the whole time I had been here. I knew nobody had opened it; I would have noticed as I was sitting on this step.

I peeked inside the door. The house was beautiful inside. A golden chandelier lit the room with a soft, welcoming glow, and the house still had an old coal fire that glowed warmly on the chimney breast. There were beautiful, blue flowered carpets in the lounge, and an old brown leather sofa sitting in the middle of the floor.

It was breath-takingly beautiful.

Yet, it was strange that there was nobody here.

I tried to resist the urge to pry, but my feet moved before I could control them. I headed upstairs and explored the one-bedroom, which had a beautiful four-post dark mahogany bed, complete with matching wardrobes.

I must have been exhausted.

Living on the streets does that to you. You are constantly on alert from being attacked, and then there is the lack of sleep caused by the weather and sleeping on the ground or on cold benches, until you are forced to move.

I don't know how long I had been asleep. Time was nothing; all I knew was that I was comfortable in this bed, and I hadn't experienced that kind of comfort in a very long time.

I am not even sure how I ended up homeless. I just know that I woke up in a stranger's house, and told my parents were dead. When I turned fifteen years old, I was kicked out for no reason, and that was the end of my life.

I awoke to a female voice calling my name.

"Jennifer, please wake up, Jennifer."

I awoke to a small lady wearing a red dress. She had the same brown eyes and brown curls, and she looked like me in every way.

I stared at her, wide-eyed and scared.

"It's ok, Jennifer, you're home now," she told me

I didn't know what to say. She looked every little bit like me, and she spoke like me, but who was she?

The kind lady took me softly by the hand and led me downstairs, where she handed me a hot cup of tea made exactly to my liking and my favourite cheese on toast.

We were sitting in silence, staring at each other, not knowing what to say. Eventually, curiosity took over me. I asked her,

"How do you know my name?"

The lady hesitated for a few minutes before replying.

"I'm Candice. I'm your mum."

I was ready to run, but my feet wouldn't let me.

I was speechless for at least twenty minutes.

How could this sweet lady possibly be my mum? Aren't my parents dead?

"What?" I finally asked.

Candice proceeded to tell me how she had been kidnapped during a terrifying attack when I was just five years old, and that I was taken away from her. She told the police, and they assumed I was dead because they never found me, since that fateful day.

She had spent every day since that terrible ordeal trying to find me.

I did not know whether to believe her. This lady could be telling me anything, and I had always been sceptical of people luring me in. It was a common occurrence living on the streets.

Candice was so sure I was hers, she offered to take a DNA test, which I accepted, though I remained sceptical.

"I have to go," I replied and left before she could say anything else.

Three weeks later, I was back on that door, and I didn't know why. This time, I knocked, and Candice did not hesitate to let me in.

She showed me the DNA results, and to my total surprise, it was a 99% match.

Candice was my mum.

I burst into tears in her arms, and we held each other sobbing.

After some reflection, I moved in with my mum; though after a few months, we moved to a new house to start a new life.

I still feel a magical pull whenever I walk past that old, musty house, though lessons were learned here.

"Evil does not always exist behind strange doors. Happiness exists in places we don't know about."