A Note From The Author.
The human need for intimacy is profound and compelling. Loneliness is a cold not unlike a winter freeze. The warm assuring touch and the loving smile from the one you love is as the warmth of a cottage hearth. That warm place in front of the fire. A place of friendship, intimacy, and peace.
Keyless is about that need. If you have ever been rejected, if the one you love, no longer loves you or has turned and loved another. If you can't seem to find the key to unlock his or her heart, you will relate to its imagery
I love the hope my daughter shared after reading this. "You have a key Dad. You just have to find the lock it fits"......I love it!
Never Give Up! Never Surrender!
A Winter Wood
Once upon a time in a lonesome winter wood, I found a country cottage nestled among a grove of dormant maple trees. The frozen winter winds had stripped their branches bare, only their skeletons remained, leaving no trace of their summer beauty. In the light of the moon, I felt as if I were viewing the cottage from the inside of a frozen cell. Looking through long gnarly branches, like a criminal imprisoned behind the cold steel of prison bars.
The leafless trees stood in stark contradiction to the soft peach colored cottage and the warm glow coming from the fireplace that could be seen through the frosted windows, beckoning me to come and warm myself by its flames. The soft yellow porch light warmed its way through the thin fog welcoming me to the front door. Outside in the snow, the cold air was biting and stabbing. Despite my winter clothing, I was freezing. It was as if I had been swallowed whole by a block of Ice. I longed to be inside.
I made my way to the door of the home. I stomped the snow off my winter boots and knocked upon the heavy door. Made of oak, the door might as well have been made of granite. The cold had robbed me of my strength and my knuckles tingled in pain after every knock. “I must get in,” I thought to myself. “But this dam door is in my way.”
“Hello!”, I shouted, “Anyone home?” “Hello!” “Can I come in?” I knocked on the door one more time as best I could, still, no one came to the door. “I am freezing,” said I, “Won’t you help me?”
I became desperate, willing to do anything to get in. I tried turning the doorknob, it was locked. I looked around for a key. I looked under the doormat, in an old flower pot that held the lifeless husk of some old flower, and on the trim over the door. Nothing. While searching for a key, I saw a hand-sized rock encrusted in ice on the ground next to the porch. With the hill of my boot, I forced it out of the ground. Shards of ice violently exploded from the ground, leaving a perfect mold of itself in the frozen ground.
With the rock in hand, I began pounding against the door. I could hear my knock echo through the cottage. Surely someone would open the door. I could hear voices on the other side, I couldn’t make out what they were saying but they sounded happy. I ached to be a part of their joy.
The door became my adversary, mocking me through rejection. Like the Queen's guard, it stood there resolute, without emotion, refusing me entry. My desperation turned to anger. In an act of insanity, I threw myself against the door with no success. Like a madman, I began kicking at it over and over again. With each kick, pain drilled its way through my nerves leaving my foot throbbing as the blood forced its way through my frostbitten veins. I cursed at it, I hurled the rock at it. No matter what I did, the door remained unyielding, it simply would not be opened to me. I stood there glaring at it, willing it to open until finally, I gave up. I stepped off the porch and headed back into frozen places.
Just as I fell into the shadows where my form could no longer be seen. I heard the sound of a car coming up the drive. I turned and watched as a man dressed in shorts and a t-shirt stepped out of his car and leisurely made his way to the door. Within seconds he had inserted his key and the door relented as he made his way through the entry, allowing him access to all that lay on the other side, leaving me alone and dying in the chilling silence of the winter night.