Through the Door

The door was solid black, engraved with large keyhole-like shapes up and down its front. Finding it locked, I heaved against it, hoping to break it down. The door did not budge; it seemed nothing to be damaged or destroyed. I saw the challenge set before me and seized it; I turned the door upside down in the wall. The wall rolled away, and the door opened onto a sparely flowered garden.

Now I had a sense of what it could do, I meant not to let go of the door. Since turning it once produced an effect, I wondered if additional turns might lead to more interesting results. I wheeled the door around like a screw as I headed toward the garden interior. Much of the place was low grass, nothing else, but as I went, a multitude of plants sprouted. To make out what these were exactly, I followed a hunch and made the door spin back to front, a different way than earlier. The greenery drew toward me, the bushes turned topsy-turvy, their roots in the air. I spotted dark, voluptuous roses and irises amid a plethora of leaves. The scene, however, appeared without any order. As soon as I thought it, the door jerked as if it would shoot straight from my hands. From its sides, I saw birds dart deep into the newly risen shrubs and butterflies dance into the shadows of the flowers. I held firmly to the door as I took in these details.

I walked onwards then. The ground formed into curves and ledges everywhere the door and I went. Terraces emerged that I found good for walking. However, the garden landscape passed from verdant spring to an autumn with browning trees over the afternoon. The vast, dense greenery that had sprouted everywhere roped itself to the door frame. I no longer could spin the thing, and it shut. Too soon, I came to the sculpted hedge that marked the garden bounds. The tall, square wall of faded green gave me heavy thoughts as I turned elsewhere.

By Norbert Kovacs

From: United States

Website: http://www.norbertkovacs.net