Sometimes, every once in a great while, something spectacular and out of the ordinary happens to very ordinary and normal people.
Molly was out for a stroll, this was completely and utterly normal, in fact, she did it so often, that she sometimes forgot to really appreciate the things around her. She had memorized ever crevice of every tree in the park she always wandered through. She knew the spot where the initials MD F-Ever had been carved. She had more than once traced her finger over the carved heart around the letters. She knew to lift her foot as she stepped back so that she would not stumble over ancient aged roots that were trying to bring themselves up out of the ground. They had long since run out of room to grow beneath the earth’s surface. She knew the sounds of all the birds, and she could recognize all the colors of the variety she considered native. And yet, on this particular day, she was not paying attention to, or even really appreciating any of the things she had worked at one time to memorize. What is important however, and what began the entire cycle of events, was that her eyes immediately took in and analyzed the thing that did not belong in her park, and though she did not know it yet, something that probably had no business being in the mortal world.
Molly walked slowly toward the object lying in a pile of fallen leaves. It stood out against all the reds and browns and golds because it was shiny silver in contrast. She touched her hand to the item, expecting it to feel cold in the crisp fall air. The first frost of winter had not yet swept the region, but she knew it would soon, because she could feel the bite of the wind slipping through her thin cardigan. Molly bent down and examined the object more carefully. It was very intricately carved, but with a pattern unlike any she had ever seen. It was not flowery, nor was it geometric, but still it seemed to flow from crevice to crevice. She traced her fingers over the pattern, until she came to a line that seemed deeper than the others. Gently she tried her fingernail at the line, wondering if it were an error on that part of the artist, or if perhaps there was an opening.
A dog barked in the distance, and for a moment, Molly’s attention was broken. She shook her head and smiled at her foolish fascination. Feeling like a child taking home a found treasure she scooped up the object, and carried it back toward her house, ignoring the path she usually took around to the gazebo, and past the lake. She followed her own steps back to the house, and gently set the shiny new object on the antique wood of her grandmother’s table. It was silly to think of the table as Grandmother’s, even though the woman had been gone for many years, but she couldn’t think of it in any other way.
Molly examined the object, it the size of a duffle bag she had once had for ballet classes during her childhood. The object had been awkward to carry without handles and straps, but not impossible. She turned it on its side, and heard a soft tinkle, as if something were inside it, something glass- perhaps broken, certainly something fragile. She slowly set it back in what she considered the upright position, even though every side seemed equally ornate.
Her telephone rang in the next room, and Molly let her hand fall away from the item she had begun to think of as her special treasure. She answered the phone with feigned welcome. It was her mother, who insisted on keeping her up to date of the goings on of her ex-fiancé. A man that everyone around her had loved far more than she ever could. It was not because he was less than perfect, if anything, he was too perfect, but no one understands the value of imperfection.
Molly hung up, and popped a Stouffer’s frozen dinner in the microwave. Instant meal for one coming up! She let it zap while she watched television in the living room. Even as she chuckled to the jokes Dane Cook was throwing out, and enjoyed his aversion to Kool Aid commercials, she felt incomplete. As her mother had reminded her, this was her choice. She didn’t have to spend every night alone with her television. She never had to be alone, she could have a shadow hanging over her and darkening her every step for all the rest of her life. –Not interested. But there was something else bothering her, with renewed interest, she returned to the box, that seemed to catch what little light was falling in the dining room window from the street lamp outside. Carefully using a butter knife, she set to exploring the deepest crevice.
There was a soft click, and then slowly the object began to move. Molly jumped away and dropped her knife with a clatter on the wooden floors. Suddenly before her, just above her table was a large door, the same carved metal of the item she had found, but, with an equally ornate handle, and an old fashioned keyhole, accompanied by a very large and ornate key sticking out of it.. Removing the key, she bent down to see if she could see what was on the other side, telling herself that of course all she would see was her book case with Shakespeare, and Dante, and Steinbeck. And wouldn’t this be an ordinary story if that happened to be all she saw? Luckily, she saw much more when she looked through the keyhole.
On the other side of the door was a waterfall, and it fell in shimmering curtains from rocks that glistened in the sun. She stood back a moment, and looked outside, it was definitely dark on her side of the door. She glanced at the clock on the wall to her right. It was 8:30 PM now. She looked back through the keyhole, expecting the waterfall to have vanished. Instead, there was something rising from the water, and as she watched the most stunning man came walking from the depths, moving his head to send droplets back to the little pool. She leaned back and considered her options. In the end she...
Molly was out for a stroll, this was completely and utterly normal, in fact, she did it so often, that she sometimes forgot to really appreciate the things around her. She had memorized ever crevice of every tree in the park she always wandered through. She knew the spot where the initials MD F-Ever had been carved. She had more than once traced her finger over the carved heart around the letters. She knew to lift her foot as she stepped back so that she would not stumble over ancient aged roots that were trying to bring themselves up out of the ground. They had long since run out of room to grow beneath the earth’s surface. She knew the sounds of all the birds, and she could recognize all the colors of the variety she considered native. And yet, on this particular day, she was not paying attention to, or even really appreciating any of the things she had worked at one time to memorize. What is important however, and what began the entire cycle of events, was that her eyes immediately took in and analyzed the thing that did not belong in her park, and though she did not know it yet, something that probably had no business being in the mortal world.
Molly walked slowly toward the object lying in a pile of fallen leaves. It stood out against all the reds and browns and golds because it was shiny silver in contrast. She touched her hand to the item, expecting it to feel cold in the crisp fall air. The first frost of winter had not yet swept the region, but she knew it would soon, because she could feel the bite of the wind slipping through her thin cardigan. Molly bent down and examined the object more carefully. It was very intricately carved, but with a pattern unlike any she had ever seen. It was not flowery, nor was it geometric, but still it seemed to flow from crevice to crevice. She traced her fingers over the pattern, until she came to a line that seemed deeper than the others. Gently she tried her fingernail at the line, wondering if it were an error on that part of the artist, or if perhaps there was an opening.
A dog barked in the distance, and for a moment, Molly’s attention was broken. She shook her head and smiled at her foolish fascination. Feeling like a child taking home a found treasure she scooped up the object, and carried it back toward her house, ignoring the path she usually took around to the gazebo, and past the lake. She followed her own steps back to the house, and gently set the shiny new object on the antique wood of her grandmother’s table. It was silly to think of the table as Grandmother’s, even though the woman had been gone for many years, but she couldn’t think of it in any other way.
Molly examined the object, it the size of a duffle bag she had once had for ballet classes during her childhood. The object had been awkward to carry without handles and straps, but not impossible. She turned it on its side, and heard a soft tinkle, as if something were inside it, something glass- perhaps broken, certainly something fragile. She slowly set it back in what she considered the upright position, even though every side seemed equally ornate.
Her telephone rang in the next room, and Molly let her hand fall away from the item she had begun to think of as her special treasure. She answered the phone with feigned welcome. It was her mother, who insisted on keeping her up to date of the goings on of her ex-fiancé. A man that everyone around her had loved far more than she ever could. It was not because he was less than perfect, if anything, he was too perfect, but no one understands the value of imperfection.
Molly hung up, and popped a Stouffer’s frozen dinner in the microwave. Instant meal for one coming up! She let it zap while she watched television in the living room. Even as she chuckled to the jokes Dane Cook was throwing out, and enjoyed his aversion to Kool Aid commercials, she felt incomplete. As her mother had reminded her, this was her choice. She didn’t have to spend every night alone with her television. She never had to be alone, she could have a shadow hanging over her and darkening her every step for all the rest of her life. –Not interested. But there was something else bothering her, with renewed interest, she returned to the box, that seemed to catch what little light was falling in the dining room window from the street lamp outside. Carefully using a butter knife, she set to exploring the deepest crevice.
There was a soft click, and then slowly the object began to move. Molly jumped away and dropped her knife with a clatter on the wooden floors. Suddenly before her, just above her table was a large door, the same carved metal of the item she had found, but, with an equally ornate handle, and an old fashioned keyhole, accompanied by a very large and ornate key sticking out of it.. Removing the key, she bent down to see if she could see what was on the other side, telling herself that of course all she would see was her book case with Shakespeare, and Dante, and Steinbeck. And wouldn’t this be an ordinary story if that happened to be all she saw? Luckily, she saw much more when she looked through the keyhole.
On the other side of the door was a waterfall, and it fell in shimmering curtains from rocks that glistened in the sun. She stood back a moment, and looked outside, it was definitely dark on her side of the door. She glanced at the clock on the wall to her right. It was 8:30 PM now. She looked back through the keyhole, expecting the waterfall to have vanished. Instead, there was something rising from the water, and as she watched the most stunning man came walking from the depths, moving his head to send droplets back to the little pool. She leaned back and considered her options. In the end she...
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- ID: 38439
- Nickname: the door
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