Dusk had cast a shadowy vale across the priory. The groundsman circled the property. Its crumbling walls and labyrinth of once-bustling arched walkways had immediately enticed him to the job. Yet now, alone, light fading, he began to second guess himself. Perhaps he was just hungry? Sitting on one of the tumbled walls, he rummaged in his satchel and retrieved the cling-filmed sarnies and flask of tea. The silence of the moors seemed to sing to him in the background as he chewed.
In fact, the singing seemed to be growing louder. Finishing his bate, he brushed off the crumbs, tidied up and began to follow the sounds. It would likely be some kids playing a prank, or some interactive thing triggered by a mouse, nothing to worry about, he told himself. Yet, the hairs standing to attention on the back of his hands told another story.
Approaching one of the larger walls, he spotted a small but robust-looking door. Trying the handle he found it locked. He reached into his satchel and pulled out the collection of keys, then after a brief selection, he found one that fit in the lock. Turning the handle, he pulled the door open and a gust of musty air drifted out to greet him. A choir of celestial voices permeated the darkness, louder than anything he had ever heard. Yet, behind the door was just darkness. Snatching the torch from his pocket, he shone it into the gloomy darkness, yet all he could see was the dancing dust in the air, caused only by his disturbance. He opened the door wider and shone the torch into each corner of the room, searching for the sound system which was surely making the noise, but none could be found. Then the voices stopped. A whispered voice came out of the darkness and said “You must go!”.
He hastily locked the door and made his way back to the car, where he remained the rest of the evening. He never returned to the site of the singing voices.
I love this little door. It can be found at Mount Grace Priory in North Yorkshire at the beginning of the moors. It’s one of my favourite places to visit, nestled at the foothills of the moors, despite being a hair width from a dual carriageway, it is incredibly peaceful and calming.
We’ve had so many wonderful responses this week. I have tried to reblog a few since the post went out so hopefully, you will have seen some trickling through, but here is the list below (if I have missed anyone, please let me know). It makes for fantastic reading.
- Door – The Inkwell
- Door #writephoto | Trent’s World (the Blog)
- the-door-to-wherever/ – pensitivity101
- #WRITEPHOTO – Door – Tessa Dean – Author
- K. L. Caley #WRITEPHOTO – Den and Door. | willowdot21
- #Writephoto – Shut That Door – About the Jez of It
- WritePhoto: Door
- writephoto-door/ – thankfulbylily
- door-writephoto-flash-fiction/ – jemimapett
- Where does it leads? – Keep it alive
- Behind That Tiny Door :: N2W 220505 – Gary A Wilson Stories
- Door | #writephoto Flash Fiction – Jemima Pett
- Doorways To The Soul #writephoto | TanGental
I hope you’ll join me for another #writephoto challenge published today at 12 o’clock GMT. This week’s challenge is OPEN.
Thank you all again for taking part in #writephoto – Door