The Choice

Note: This is my response to a prompt on dailywritingpractice.blogspot.com. Great site, if you are interested in writing at all I would say you should give a prompt a go one day.

Surrounded by noise
yet the noise is surrounded
by my skull.

In the antechamber I stand
spinning around in place,
looking at the five green doors.

One to death,
another to life,
the other three unknown.

They all look the same,
except for one,
where the knob is tarnished.
The third from the right.

Or second from the left?
Fourth from the door
with the chip in the paint?
There's a door with chipped paint?

They all look the same.
Two hours and two years
have the same impact on one's mind.
It's just as well I don't know
how long I have been here.

The noise is still there.
Not in the background,
but poorly concealed in front of all.

The antechamber has walls
of a sickly purple.
They remind me of a dying lavender.

Unconciuosly one door is selected.
I stride towards it,
not really knowing why.

I open the door and sprint through.
The people walking outside pause
and give me strange looks.