By Allan, 77. Salisbury North, SA
There is a secret door and it has a secret lock.
It is only for me to know, how it is and where it is.
It is never far away, the secret door.
I think none know about my secret door, for a secret shared is no secret anymore.
I sometimes hint about it, this secret door, but I never told.
Never shared for it is mine alone.
I use it most days, when things are quiet and I am alone, or not being noticed.
I just slip away and past the secret door into the room.
It is never dark in this room and it is not empty, there are shelves.
There are three shelves, and on each shelf there are small things that I see.
The top shelf is a little hard to reach, but I can do it.
It is hard to see there but I can see, but not well.
Hard to do too, perhaps I don’t want to look there, for it is my shelf of fears.
I have to look and sometimes I touch and then I turn away.
Most things are old but some are new and I can sense with the faintest touch what is there.
I look and things reach out to me but I leave them mostly.
Other people tell me what you should do.
You should master this fear or threat. Be in command.
I was driven by a desperation one day and I took one.
It was terrible, it was as if a hand gripped my throat and I could not breathe.
I pushed on and made it be, I held it in my hand and forced it, unwrapped it as I choked.
It shimmered and my hands shook and then like smoke, it was gone and it was as if it was never there.
I do not think they all are that easy, for in the mind-jungle there are mice, and there are tigers
I have never done that again.
The second shelf, the next one down is an easier place to be.
It is my shelf of my dreams and hopes. They sit there and I just look at them and know what they
are and I feel them call to me and I know them but I never touch them. I do not allow that, they are
there and they will stay there. They are all the things I have ever wanted, ever hoped for. Ever
wanted to be. They stay there , unmoved, untouched, and forever. The risk of disappointment is so
great they are looked at and left. That is the way it has always been.
The final shelf is rather full. They are my memories, the things I can recall. There are many
memories and it seems they come and there is always room for more. this I know and the newest
were at the front It seems that some are missing, but there are a lot. The shelf seems so deep and so
much bigger than the others, and there is stuff up the back that I can barely see, some of it looks so
The secret door is closed behind me when I look, so I am alone and quiet in my secret place with
my shelves. Then after a time, I leave. Sometimes the door sticks just a little and it is hard to open,
but it just a kick and a bit of a wrench and then it comes good. It stays that way for a while and a
kick always fixes it.
There is a thing though, someone is messing with my stuff, someone is doing, something, somehow,
somewhere. The bottom shelf only, it is just that one. Sometimes I go and some of the stuff from the
back is at the front, and some stuff is gone. Yet it all seems to be where I expect it to be but it should
not be, it is right and yet so strange, I am unsure why, and yet it still seems OK.
No one knows of my secret room, so how can this be?
I am suddenly alarmed and leave and I don’t know why.
Later, when I came back again, when I return and I look again, it has been put back the way it
should be and always was, or so it seems.
I went to my secret room the other day, and it had happened again, there was some old stuff in the
front where it should not be and I sensed what was. I relived it again, as you do with memories.
I was there for a while. Then when I went to leave the door was stuck, this time really badly and it
took me the longest time but I kicked it hard and banged on the handle and eventually managed to
I worry now about my secret place.
I worry that I might lose the secret of entry to the place.
It has always been a special place and a place away from everything.
I worry that if I go there again, that I may have to stay for longer than I want.
I worry I may lose the power to leave this special place.
I worry now for I can see that I cannot stay away.
The worry makes me so afraid and I want to feel safe.
Do I need to go to my secret place?
By Allan, 77. Salisbury North, SA