The Many Doors

She entered the hallway and there were the doors.
Five of them and which to choose.

From the first door emanated an aroma of freshly baked bread, of soup and peach pie.
She reached for door knob but for some reason she couldn't seem to grasp it.
This frightened her so she passed it by.

The second door was recessed into the wall, and throbbed with the pulse of the
loud loud music behind it.  Herb-ed smoke wafted out from every crack.
She passed it by.

The third door was silent and grey, a thin mist snuck out from underneath and
 she moved away quickly sticken with apprehension.

The fourth door hummed with many voices, some unkind and violent.
 She paused, considering, but then moved on.

The fifth door, the final door.  It was quiet, but not deathly so.  It seemed to contain a presence that drew her.  The knob was cut glass, old fashioned.  She approached it cautiously.
It seemed to fit her palm perfectly.

She opened the door.

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