The Garage Door

Twice he found the door to the garage open. But he lived alone and could not remember going into the garage for at least six months. Since that “day” he had refused to use the garage for any reason. He always parked on the street and used the front door for all occasions. He even had a few friends clear out the garage of any storage boxes and put them in the shed in the backyard. To have the door standing wide open was unnerving.

The first time he found it open it was just slightly ajar, as if someone had just come in and not closed it completely. He absentmindedly closed it and kept walking. It was not until he was half a dozen steps away that it struck him. Why was that door open? And then his mind raced. Perhaps it was not really open and just habit made him push on it as if it was open. But he could remember the distinct sound of the click when the door latch caught. No, he was certain that he had closed it. But how did it get open?

 By the end of the night he had convinced himself that the door was never really open. That it was a trick of the mind.

The second time it happened, he heard giggling. The door was wide open and the cool garage air was slipping slowly into the house. The giggle was clear as day and it made the hair on his neck stand on end. It sent chills down his spine and brought tears to his eyes.  He could not even walk the two steps down the hall from the kitchen to close the garage door. He slumped against the wall and slowly wiped away a tear.

A thought struck him. Perhaps someone was using the side door in the garage to gain access to the house and he had stumbled upon them coming or going. It frightened him to think someone could be in the house. He quickly grabbed a flashlight and a baseball bat from the coat closet by the front door. He made a thorough search of the house. Under the beds, in all the closets and bathrooms and even the kitchen pantry, he searched diligently, hopefully.  But he found nothing unusual. He was left with a wide open garage door and a giggle that brought back a flood of memories. What was he to do?

He could not face the open door and he did not have the emotional strength to close it. He wanted to call a friend but over the last six months he had alienated everyone and could think of not one single person that he wanted to call. He was stuck and frightened.

He set the baseball bat and flashlight on the kitchen counter. He cradled his head in his arms and sobbed quietly for a few moments. He felt the cool garage air whisping around his bare feet. He had to face his demons. He had to put it to rest. He stood determined, crossed the kitchen and stopped at the hall. He left the bat and light behind. They would serve him no good with whatever it was that he would find in the garage.

He took a step and paused, listening.  He took a second step and put a hand on the door knob. He knew that if he just swung the door closed it would not end the nightmare. He raised a hand to the light switch for the garage’s florescent light. He felt his heart racing. His breathes came in ragged gulps. How could a simple garage frighten someone so much? But it was not the garage that scared him. It was just a symbol of something much deeper. A pain, a memory, a day that would haunt him was what lay beyond that doorway.

He flicked on the light and stepped into the garage pulling the door closed behind him.  

Copyright 2011
David Corbet
All Rights Reserved