The Door Is Open

At the end of a long corridor, there was a door. It was open, a sign of invitation.

Welcome and come in. No one was around but me. I hesitated to go further that maybe I was trespassing but I don’t see any sign ‘Do Not Enter’. So I proceeded. It was a series of doors beyond doors. As I entered the first door, it was an open big spacious room. Walls lined up with old photos of priests, bishops, queens, kings and more dignitaries. Moving to the next door is another area smaller in scale. What caught my attention is the door that is close.

This door appears to be ancient painted with blue, green, orange and beige. I wonder what the history of this door is. The paint is peeling and the iron bolt is rusty.  Should I open it or not?  Why not.

With all the doors that I entered, I guessed there would be more doors behind it. However, this is the final door to a cozy room that seems to be a lounge room, walls lined with books. The table on the middle of the room appears to be an altar with a crucifix on it.

Then I heard footsteps. Catching a glimpse of another person, it was a man in uniform: priestly uniform that is. It was time for me to do my disappearing act before I will get caught or else I will end up in the confessional box. Just before I left, I took a photo of a Madonna and Child. Gazing back to have a final look of the doors and oops, I left a door open.

In response to The Daily Post’s weekly photo challenge: “Door.”