Doors - By Sharon Dragon Rose (du Plessis)

Written By: Sharon Dragon Rose (du Plessis)

Category: Essay

Competition: Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026

Sharon Dragon Rose (du Plessis) presents a powerful and evocative essay titled "Doors" as part of the Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026. In the category of Essay, Sharon addresses the harrowing realities of human trafficking, weaving a narrative that underscores the profound impact of this global issue. Her work offers a haunting glimpse into the darkness that surrounds such experiences, urging readers to confront the uncomfortable truths and seek a collective path toward justice and healing.

About the Work

"Doors" delves into the grim and often hidden world of human trafficking. Sharon Dragon Rose crafts a narrative that is both haunting and illuminating, using vivid imagery and a stark, unflinching tone to expose the horrors faced by victims. The essay is a call to action, compelling readers to acknowledge the pervasive nature of this crime and the urgent need for awareness and intervention. Sharon's writing style is raw and impactful, leaving a lasting impression on anyone who engages with her work.

Doors

Original Submission by Sharon Dragon Rose (du Plessis)

“Darkness enters when the leisure of excess money or power is directed to that which cannot satisfy the insatiable.”

Sharon DragonRose

Doors!

The nightly domino sound-effects of the three-beat-heartache song...

A door slammed shut, the metal jingle of a key in the lock, footsteps moving on to the next door...

Slam, jingle, footsteps... Slam, jingle, footsteps...The perpetual melody cranked out the beat of isolation, betrayal and domination... on and on whilst the volume of this sickening tune became more muffled, until, after long minutes, finally died down at the end of this corridor where we were all kept, shut-in for the night.

It was quiet now. The yonder voices of wardens finally ceased.

I am lying on the cold floor, the chill seeping through my skin like a cold corpse lover. A surrender to hell, I lay like many, many nights before, on my hands and knees, spent, violated, sore, soiled and stripped to a nothingness, a meaningless lump of human flesh being used for the gratification of Evil.

I do not remember my real name. 'Bad Girl', they called me, only 4 years old. However, I do remember those men with ragged breaths, their stiff cocks ramming that baby place that was still pudgy and innocent. The women also took part, whilst the baby in me so craved the mother with those breasts and erect nipples, just for a moment's reprieve from this hell! But no, lust blinded them all, making me nothing. Making me... Bad Girl.

The 'maternity ward' supervised by the androgynous German induced the fear needed to keep all of us in line. Her stark face, clipped voice and a red lipstick streak that gaped like a knife wound above the white starched uniform echoed control.

I have become part of the breeding plan of the Elite fucks since age 12. Giving birth once a year this human breeding conveyor belt provided the offspring for harvesting stem cells, or for the kick that it gave those in high power to fuck their own offspring, barely a few weeks old, then to be offered to the dark forces...Torn... and barely alive.

I cannot remember their little faces. My heart and what was left of it, broke into a thousand pieces every time the cord was cut and my baby snatched away, dragging my memory and heart scraps with them, to disappear into oblivion.

At barely 20 years old, I don't know the world out there. I have been moulded and poured into this cesspit for the gratification of those who could afford handsome sums for their perverted sick minds.

Not just me. We are many.

A constant influx of new girls, and boys, of all ages. Terrified, torn away from their families; stolen, captured, trafficked. Here are babies, toddlers, kids, teenagers, young adults, all part of this down-spiral whirlpool of a cesspool, being sucked into the darkness by no choice of our own. The years gone past grated memories like raw skin that never fully healed, until nothing was left except for the unseen scars and bleeding scabs. Was I sold? Neglected? Stolen?

Some of us were forced to attend the sorcery events, once a month during the dark moon, when the world slept silently, and did not know and cared not. Here the underground bunker hall cloaked with its black walls, opulent red velvet curtains, the black candles' yellow flaming tongues licking this wall of darkness. The huge altar in the centre. The quiet entry of the masked men and women who came to witness, and take part, in the raping, torturing and slaughter of these babies, some born days ago. We were not there just to witness, but became a side dish feasted on during their despicable acts. The horror of these acts was offered up to conjure and raise the energy of demonic forces.

This night, lying on the cold floor like so many nights before, a thought entered my mind.

I was viewing it quietly, impersonally, and with a calmness, realising...

I've lost all hope.

I cannot speak of what was done, for the feelings of someone so young never found a sound base of comprehension nor expression...

I just knew...

THIS IS NOT RIGHT!!

Death, oh sweet thing, please come.

*** *** ***

Not death, but 3 bells marked the beginning of a six hour rest, before the day would start again and the claws of darkness got hold of us once more. I closed my eyes and prepared for oblivion.

Then, suddenly, muffled voices echoed down the corridor. I lifted my head. The voices came closer. Sharp, decisive. Outside, through the small window, a blue light started to flash and pulse a rhythm of redemption on my cell door, the walls, my body...

“OK, nine more to go! LET'S MOVE LET'S MOVE LET'S MOVE!!”

And then my door opened...

Final Notes.

Human Trafficking is Real. There is a predator in every neighbourhood, school, summer camp, gym hall, religious gathering... the list goes on. The network of syndicates is spread across our globe.

Statistics on Human Trafficking in South Africa Approximately 155,000 people are living in modern slavery in South Africa. The majority of trafficking victims are women and children. Over 70% of trafficking victims in South Africa are trafficked for sexual exploitation. (ref: TEARS)

Closed Doors: Currently in America. Epstein:

Video footage went 'missing' so there is no proof of his 'suicide'.

What about the 3 million page Epstein documents released (70 - 80% still redacted). Why were the investigations stopped and no accountability enforced years ago?

Open Doors : We can topple this Satanic Hierarchy with this Foundation:

Artist - Express the visual through art, writing, creative endeavours.

Spiritual Warriors - Focus on a positive outcomes.

Activists - Speak up.

Generous funding - Assisting with the investigation, prevention and release of HT victims.

The Artist gives VISIBILITY, the Spiritual Warrior gives DIRECTION, the Activist on the ground gives VOICE.

The Generous SUPPORT all of the above.

Inspired by the following two channels on YouTube.

1. IMMEDIATE RELEASE - I Am Being Threatened For Protecting Children.

Shawn Ryan Show.

2. EPSTEIN FILES – What they're not telling you.

Inspired (Jean Nolan & Cathy O'Brien)

Watch this. See what bravery and healing looks like.

“Be not blinded by what is going on around you but focus on a positive outcome for all.”

Sharon DragonRose

Story: 787 Words

Total : 1069 Words

Written and Illustrated by Sharon DragonRose

About the Competition

The Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026 by Hashtag Kalakar is a prestigious platform celebrating diverse voices in poetry, essays, short stories, and creative writing. This annual event brings together writers from around the world, providing them with an opportunity to showcase their unique perspectives and literary talents. It serves as a beacon for creativity, fostering a global community of writers committed to exploring and addressing complex human experiences through the power of words.

We extend our heartfelt gratitude to Sharon Dragon Rose for her poignant contribution, "Doors," to the Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026. Her essay shines a necessary light on the critical issue of human trafficking, inspiring action and awareness. Thank you, Sharon, for your courage and dedication to using creative expression as a force for societal change.

About Hashtag Kalakar

Hashtag Kalakar is a creative platform dedicated to providing artists, writers, singers and other creative talents with opportunities to showcase their work and reach wider audiences through competitions, features and creative initiatives.