by Jordan Brown

Created on: May 06, 2008

Her heart is racing. She is panicking, looking for a way out. She can feel the scorching flames against her skin. The smoke grabs hold of her throat like a vise, choking her with every breath she took. Her eyes fixed on all of her possessions; her pride and joy in flames. Everything she worked so long and hard for was gone in a matter of minutes. Through a thick curtain of smoke she sees what most would call an ordinary door, but to her it was much more. This door bridged the gap between life and death. This door, hanging on two hinges, could offer her more than she could offer it. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. She runs towards, running faster than she had ever run before, as she feels her life slowly slipping away. Every step was a step closer to waking up the next morning; a hope that was better than anything she had at that moment. This hope was her fuel. Her strides were longer and faster. The door was within arms reach. She lunges for it, clinging on to the door. Her hands shake violently as she tries to open the door. Above her she can hear the ceiling crack. She knows she doesn't have much time, but the door is stuck. She begins banging on the door, using every ounce of life left in her. The ceiling creeks louder this time, ready to collapse in seconds. She looks up at her fate, and it all comes crashing down.

A woman screams and wakes up suddenly. She sits up slowly, and her

eyes must adjust to the blinding light of the room. Still in shock from her "dream,"

she breathes heavily; her heart beats faster than usual. She gazes across the room. Where

is she? Why is she here? The walls are cold and barren, like an artic plain. An unusual

odor fills the air. A beeping sound takes the silence. She longs for the moments when her

eyes were closed, so she didn't have to look at such a horrible place. Glancing down, she

sees foreign tubes traveling from her arm to a machine of some sort.

She hastily removes them, not knowing what they are there for. Her eyes are still fixed on her arm. It looks different than she remembers. This arm is pale and wrinkly, full of age spots and protruding veins. This cannot be her arm. This cannot be her smooth, gentle and vibrant arm. What had this place done to her? She quickly turns to the other arm, it too has changed. The old woman rises out of bed, only to find that her smooth, perfectly shaped legs have also changed. They too, are now pale and hairy and full of age spots. When she finally gets to her feet her

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