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The Chest by Carla Diana
I live in a dungeon, dark and damp, sometimes sweltering and other times cold. I cannot leave, for the things I treasure most are inside a chest that lies on the dungeon floor. And try though I may, I cannot move the chest, for it is heavily chained to the prison walls and the links are large and solid. I am exhausted from the struggle. My back aches; my shoulders slump and my feet are bloodied from the constant strain, the pulling. My hands are cut and bruised from my death-like grip on the handles. I pull in vain, for it moves not an inch, yet I must keep trying for this chest holds all that I know... things, people, ideas, fears, beliefs, habits... treasures I cannot live without. At the end of the dungeon I see a light, a doorway that leads to bright sunshine and fresh air... freedom. I want desperately to go there, to walk through the portal of freedom, enter a life without chains and pain, suffering and darkness. But I cannot leave these things I treasure, for they are my ideals, my teachings; they are all I know of life. For years I have struggled. I cannot understand why the chest will not break free and go with me. Together, we could live in the bright light and freedom. I am nearly out of strength, and I am so afraid; I do not want to die here in this place. I am so afraid; I do not want to live here in this place. If I walk towards the open door of fresh air and illumination, I must let go of my treasure chest, for it will not go with me. If I leave my chest behind, I will be so alone, for I have nothing else. I am naked and weak. I have no other knowledge or possessions, and I know no one beyond that doorway. How will I ever survive? I look at my treasure chest spilling over with promises and memories of my past, and I wonder why these things keep me here. Although they shine and sparkle with enticement and invitation and speak to me of great wealth and beauty... I am receiving no benefit from its opulent display. Though I have dedicated my life to all the treasures it represents, it rewards me not. I am left naked and wounded. For the first time in my life, I stop pulling and stand to look at the chest. I look at my bleeding feet and the dungeon walls around me, and then, with the resignation of a dying animal that sees eminent death in the trap, I let the handle fall from my wretched hands. As I step away from the chest, I am dizzy and I stagger, for I have never stood on my own without it. For a moment I fear that I will fall, as I have always been attached to its handle. I look at the chest that I have treasured and I look at the doorway to freedom. But I am hesitant. I know about the chest. I know it gives promise of things that it does not honor, yet we have great history, this chest and I. I turn to the doorway, and though I hear whispers of freedom and see visions of illumination, I hear no promise, I receive no guarantee. But the call to see the light and to feel fresh air on my skin is great. As I look again at the chest, and I look at the battered body of my life, I know it is now or never. With great resolve, deliberate steps, and every last piece of courage I can find, I walk to the doorway. I am amazed; it is not as far as it looked before. I step through the portal of this passage, and for the first time, the winds of freedom blow across my face. I can only see a little at a time, as my eyes have not grown accustom to the light, yet in this moment I know I have crossed the threshold to infinite possibilities. I now have a second chance to live the life I came here to live. Before I begin this new journey of my life, I turn to bid farewell to the chest of treasures chained to the dungeon walls, and to my astonishment it is not there. The dungeon is the same. From its walls hang heavy chains that lie useless on the floor. The space where my treasure chest once lay... is empty. With the eyes of illumination that I now have, I realize there was no chest of great treasure within the dungeon where I lived. Only my illusions had kept me there.
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