the abandoned theatre part nine

On the other side of the door there is a dark hallway, dimly lit by lantern-fires every few meters. I start to walk forward, carefully. I am afraid but excited. What is at the end? It could be nothing, an empty room or worse, a dead end. Or it could be everything I have always wanted. A world on the other side of the snowflakes. The distillation of moonlight. The characters onstage coming to life. So I walk forward.

I see a door up ahead. It bares an inscription, but in the dark I cannot read it, although I have a feeling it is important. I open the door and am shocked by the brilliant light in the room. I step inside and close the door behind me, shut out the darkness of the hall.

The room is filled with filing cabinets that cover the walls all the way up to the high ceiling. There is a wheeled ladder on each wall. Some of the filing cabinets are grey and nondescript, like in a standard office. Others are made of finely-crafted wood. Some bear intricate paintings, some bright and exuberant and others dark and nightmarish. I am bewildered and overwhelmed, not knowing where to start.

I step toward the nearest filing cabinet and read the tiny label near the handle. It says: "A brief history of life before life." That doesn't help to clear anything up. I read a few more: "Comfort before light," "shock of the world," "the feeling of first laughter." Then I happen to look up and notice something I had not seen before. On the high ceiling there is a tiny bit of text. I can't read it from here so I climb up to the top of one of the ladders and stretch my neck to read it. It says: "Here are your memories. CAUTION: Handle with care."