The Domiciles Project



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The Domiciles Project: The Character in the Door Door #6
Mary Kate Wainwright - 12th grade
Gouverneur High School
Theatre Arts – Mrs. Amberg Lesson Plan #19
June 2016
The next exit showed the only gas station for miles. As I pulled in, another car pulled out and the man driving stared at me. I didn’t think anything of it and went inside. As the worker rustled in the cash register for my change, I noticed two school portraits on his lanyard: a young girl and little boy, perhaps his children.
As I walked out, he followed me. I wondered what for and then noticed that my tires were a little flat. I began to attempt driving off, but the worker stopped me. Being young and naïve on my first road trip alone, I accepted his offer to put air in my tires. I pulled up to the air station but stayed inside my car with the driver side window down. I reached into my purse to grab a couple dollars to tip the man, but as I turned back to him, he smothered my face with a cloth leading up to where I am now.
I woke up in a small garage with no windows except the foggy window on the door covered with lattice work. Frightened and alone, I started screaming and heard a gunshot, a dog whimper, and low, grumbled yelling; it was the gas station worker. I heard cars driving by frequently so I thought to myself that someone would hear me. I reached in my pocket for my phone, but it was not there; all that there was left to do was panic.
Pounding on the door, I kept seeing the silhouette of the man and would shy away. The garage was very small, about 15 feet by 15 feet, filled only with car mechanic tools. As I scrambled to find a way to get out, I noticed a can of gas. I thought my only way out would be to start a fire and hope for someone to notice driving by.
I began to sprinkle the gas on the door over the lattice work and all around me. I looked for matches or a lighter but found nothing except for a small blow torch. I headed for the door, and it blew up in flames. I tried to then kick the door as everything was beginning to melt. As a last resort, I grasped the doorknob and burnt my hand.
I began to hear another dog bark and commotion outside. I finally heard sirens, the man yelling, and another shot. I prayed that some sort of authority had shot the man who took me captive. Seconds after the shot, I saw a shadow at the door…… Was it a firefighter to save me, or the man to kill me?

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