Literary Yard

Search for meaning

By: Lyra Goga

I don’t remember how I ended up here. I’m in front of a big house in the middle of a deserted street. I knock on the door but no one answers. Not being able to contain my curiosity I get in. There are many rooms and I decide to enter the closest one. It’s a beautiful room with butterflies flying all over the place. They surround me as soon as they notice me, sparkling their dust all over. I become so light and start flying with them. This never happened before yet I don’t feel surprised. It could all be a dream after all. The butterflies start talking to me.

Their voice is like a sweet melody. They shower me with compliments. Seraphina, the youngest one, draws close to me and starts speaking with a trembling voice:
“Dear Creator, whatever you do, don’t enter the black door on the left”.

I don’t understand why she called me Creator or why I shouldn’t enter that particular door.

As I’m about to ask her she quickly flies away.

This is the most magical place I’ve ever been to. The colorful butterflies beg me to stay with them for a little bit longer but I can’t. As much as I enjoy their presence, my curiosity isn’t at ease. I have to find out what is hidden behind the other doors.
The next room is full of different people. I didn’t mind approaching the butterflies but it’s harder with people. I’m hesitant to get close to them so I stare from afar. After a few minutes, some of them come closer and start a conversation with me. The way they talk, the way they act and their appearance are all so familiar to me. However, I’m certain I never met them. They know me so well and also refer to me as the Creator. This is strange. Why do I feel spiritually connected to these people? In what world am I? 

A little girl comes to me and gives me a tight hug. I wrap my arms around her and I realize I’ve missed her so much. I start crying and she is just standing there, trying to comfort me.

I ask her for her name and she shyly answers “You didn’t give me a name”.

I get so confused by this answer. She proceeds to say “Don’t go to the black room”.

I’m overwhelmed with emotions and I sit down.

All these people are looking at me with admiration and respect. I feel so important and powerful. I wish I could stay here forever but I’m interested in the other rooms as well.

As I continue to wander around the house, I meet with different creatures who are dear to me.

I meet some characters from my childhood whom I completely forgot about.

In every corner of the house, there are heart balloons that radiate love.  Everything seems perfect in this joyful place. Well, everything but the black room. Despite all the warnings, I decided to enter the mysterious room. As soon as I step into it, I feel a cold breeze that takes my breath away. The room is empty, yet I feel the negative energy in the air.

There is a spot with piles of books. I start reading them. Pages full of my biggest fears. The room is dark and I try to get out of it. An invisible force doesn’t let me move and I’m stuck. I start hearing some whispers criticizing me. I’m lying on the floor for what seems like an eternity until I can finally reach the door and get out.

Shocked as I am, I go and tell everyone about the monsters they share the house with.

One of the butterflies waits for me to calm down, then starts explaining everything.

“The voices you heard are you, Creator”

“This doesn’t make sense. Why on earth would I be so mean to myself?”

What sounded ridiculous just a few seconds ago, it’s perfectly clear now.

Those voices are indeed mine, no one is harsher to me than my own self.

“But if they are me, this means everyone in this room is also… me?”


“But what about the other human beings, how can they possibly be me?”

“They are characters you have created during your lifetime. Everything that lives in this house is a product of your imagination. “

I frown and say “So, none of this is real?”

“You are wrong dear. We are all real, but you are the only one who can see us because we live in your mind. However, that doesn’t make us any less real.”

It all makes sense now. I have many questions to ask her but I choose the one that bothers me most. “Can’t you get rid of the black room? They are trouble to everyone.”

“That’s up to you, not us. Now you have to go” – Seraphina answers.

A friend brings me back to reality by saying “You spend so much time inside your head.”

“You have no idea”- I respond smiling.


Lyra Goga is an emerging writer based in Kosovo. A lover of words, she seeks to create exquisite worlds with the beautiful stories she gets to live. 

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