He is waiting, waiting for the knocking at the door. While all around him he feels a warmth, a feeling of security, a sense of being and the closeness of belonging. And yet he knows there is more, more than this so he waits patiently for the knocking at the door. Sounds, not to distant flood his world and he feels the outside through the inner darkness. A gentle softness flows over him and lulls him to sleep and he dreams, dreams of the knocking at the door. Suddenly he wakes, wakes to the knocking at the door. And in an instant the door is shattered and the warmth that surrounds him flows away and a alien claw grips him and the pain pierces his very being as he is pulled from his sheltered world. A brief blinding light flashes only for moment before a cold dark eternity settles over him.Doctor A. Borson looks over the sheet at the young woman lying on his table and smiles as he says, "now that wasn't all that bad was it". She manages a slight smile and in a subdued voice says, "no". The doctor removes his bloody gloves as he stands and turns to the nurse asking, "how many more do we have today"? She replies, "four". "Good" he says as he walks out the door. The nurse then reaches to the pan on the floor and picks it up while placing her foot at the base of the container marked "Hazard: Medical Waste", pushing the small black pedal down the white top opens and she dumps in the lifeless mass of bone and tissue.
Just another day in the clinic. Just another day in the progressive world of modern day America. Just another baby thrown on the trash pile of a liberal ideology, one who will never know the love on the other side of that door. And in the waiting room of Dr A. Borson four more unsuspecting victims are waiting, waiting for "The Knocking at the Door"!
by Ron Russell
