A man lives his life in a field of doors. He spends all his time walking through them. First he goes one way, then he goes back; sometimes he skips around at random.
The man wanders through the doors for years and years and years, going in and out and back and around.
All day long, every single day.
Then one day he comes to a wall.
Somehow, the man doesn’t notice at first — he just reaches out and opens it up. He opens the wall and walks right on through, just as though it were a door.
Wait! the man says, a moment later. Wait — was that a wall?
He turns and looks back, but there’s nothing there. No wall, not a thing — nothing.
I wonder where it went? the man says to himself.
And so he begins his search.
The man searches everywhere. He searches for days. He searches for weeks, months, years. He searches the whole field, from one end to the other.
But all he ever finds are doors.
Fine, says the man, I’ll build my own wall!
And he grabs a hammer and gathers some nails.
He destroys every door he finds in the field, and he hammers the pieces together.
The man builds a wall as tall as the sky; he builds a wall as wide as the horizon.
And when he’s done, he steps back to admire it.
That’s when the wall starts to fall on him.
It teeters at first — backward and forward — and then it starts to come down.
Oh no! thinks the man, putting his hands over his head, and he turns around and runs.
The man runs and runs. He runs very quickly. But the wall is too big to be outrun. It comes down as fast as a door kicked in, and crushes the man into the ground.
But just before it does — just at that very last moment — something in the man opens up. Something clear and small — like a lost little window — and the man flits through it, and is gone.
Ben Loory is a musician and writer living in Los Angeles, California. His book Stories for Nighttime and Some for the Day is currently seeking a home.
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22 Responses to “THE WALL • by Ben Loory”
Comments
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September 10th, 2009 at 1:15 am
I really like this, the odd surreal piece on this site is a treat. It’s also interesting to see how a piece works out with no descriptive language at all – there are about 4 adjectives, which I think makes it very strong. Which is sad, because I use lots of adjectives. 5 doors, Ben.
September 10th, 2009 at 5:12 am
I love everything about this one! Five from me.
September 10th, 2009 at 5:54 am
I wasn’t immediately drawn in by the stark narrative. Once he started to build his own wall, I was more intrigued. But the ending is fantastic, the last paragraph compelled me to go back and read a second time.
Thanks for something very different and thought-provoking, for nudging me out from behind the wall.
September 10th, 2009 at 6:33 am
Ben,
I loved your story! I don’t know if you wrote it to be metaphsical, but, I took it that way.
A BIG 5 STARS from me. I’m going to share this one with my minister.
September 10th, 2009 at 7:26 am
Margie– that’s the greatest compliment I’ve ever gotten! Please tell me what he says. I never have an intention for anything I write, I only sort of “discover” them in the end. I think with this one, for me, it’s metaphysical. But I think it’s pretty open. It’s sheer allegory, and that leaves a lot of room. But yeah, that’s how I take it. Thanks again.
Cathryn, R.A.S., Lucy, thanks for your comments. I first wrote this piece over a year ago, and have rewritten it probably 20-30 times since then. This makes it seem worth it.
And Lucy, don’t feel bad about using adjectives. What’s good enough for Faulkner is good enough for the rest of us.
Thanks everyone.
September 10th, 2009 at 7:37 am
Sorry, this one made absolutely no sense to me! Walking around in a field of doors? I just don’t get it.
September 10th, 2009 at 7:38 am
Interesting style. It moved quickly from A-to-B. But the lack of logic killed it for me. It just seemed pointless. And saying something happened, ‘he is crushed to the ground’ and then saying that they didn’t happen, ‘but just before he is- a window opens’ is just changing the stories ending after the reader has finished it. Sorry. Obviously many readers enjoyed this type of story, for me though, it grated.
September 10th, 2009 at 8:07 am
I thimk there was supposed to be some sort of moral about not building walls to shut yourself out, but I didn’t really get it.
September 10th, 2009 at 8:24 am
Nice! Love it! If only we were able to navigate doors, walls, and windows as quickly in life as it’s done in flash fiction.
September 10th, 2009 at 9:17 am
Ah…life as we know it, always looking for something. I loved it. The only part which threw me were the last 2 sentences “…something in the man opens up. Something clear and small – like a little lost window – and the man fits through it, and is gone”. I’m still trying to wrap my mind around it. Absolutely loved the opening sentence. So simple but effective. 5 from me.
September 10th, 2009 at 11:22 am
I like this short story v. much. How poignant, the wall!
September 10th, 2009 at 12:44 pm
So, he disappears? It was well written, but it lacked a foundation. It’s too nonsensical. I expected him to open a door in the falling wall. That would have at least given the story continuity. I didn’t care for it.
September 10th, 2009 at 1:00 pm
This was one of my favorites. I’m glad that you didn’t feel the need to overcomplicate it.
September 10th, 2009 at 1:04 pm
Rob, comment 7, As I understand it, the ending does not change between those two sentences. The man’s body is crushed into the ground, but his soul lives on.
By the way, Ben, I absolutely love that last line. It has stayed with me and I’ve come back to EDF twice today to reread it.
September 10th, 2009 at 1:25 pm
Even surreality needs some little bit of internal consistency. I was charmed by the field of doors, and building a wall out of doors was inspired. But the deus-ex-machina nature of his “escape” or transformation felt like a cheat, and ultimately spoiled the ending.
September 10th, 2009 at 6:05 pm
You don’t have to tell anyone you’re a musician. Abstract images come naturally. Great job.
September 10th, 2009 at 6:31 pm
This was so different. Kind of like a breath of fresh air from an open window or door.
September 10th, 2009 at 6:57 pm
Wow – great stuff. you are amazing!!
September 11th, 2009 at 3:10 am
I found that’the man’ needed a name.
September 11th, 2009 at 9:34 am
Wait–did he make the doors himself? Then how does he just grab a hammer and gather nails–are they there just conveniently awaiting his arrival after years of wandering around through all those bloomin’ doors? How did he know what a wall was if he’d only seen doors all his life?
My brain hurts.
September 11th, 2009 at 7:07 pm
I would give it six stars if I could. Moving. Deep. The final sliver of hope took my breath away. If only we could all the escape the falling walls of our own misbegotten construction.
September 29th, 2009 at 7:47 am
I liked the story.