Ali, before you open this door, know that once you cross over, you might never be able to return. The key has a tendency of disappearing and reappearing as it sees fit. It’s even disappeared out of this box on occasion, but always came back. I think it’s waiting for you.
The key has been around a very long time. If once you cross over you still have the key, then you should be able to come home, but you might not be able to return to the realm. There is no telling when the key will disappear. Also, every time the portal is opened, it allows pieces of our world into theirs. Their way of living is very different than ours. And we don’t want the key to get into the wrong hands.
I’m sorry for not telling you this in person. I did what I had to for your safety and theirs. When I left their realm a great war was going on, and I didn’t feel it was safe for us. The key appeared and I knew it was a chance I needed to take. I only hope your father’s still alive, when and if, you go through the door.
If you decide to go, it will be nothing like you’ve ever known, but tell whoever you meet that you’re the daughter of Rafe Pine. My hope is that whoever you find first will bring you to him. You must be on guard until you are safe with him or his people. Please, be very careful.
I’m sorry I’ve left you, Ali. I love you more than I could ever express. Take care and trust in your heart, my daughter. It will never lead you astray.
Love,
Mom
My mind is left reeling. Could everything she wrote be true? I feel someone shaking me and look up to find the elderly couple before me.
“Dear, are you okay?” the woman asks.
“What? Oh, yes. I’m fine.” I quickly fold up the letter and place it back in the box. I see the man is still holding the key and take it from him to put with the letter. If everything my mom said was accurate, then I need to guard this with my life.
They are both looking at me with confusion. I plaster on a fake smile. “I’m sorry, but I need to close.”
“We’re interested in this dresser,” he states.
“I’m sorry. That’s no longer for sale.” I can’t sell it. What if there is more inside?
I usher the irritated couple out of the store, turn the lock, and flip over the sign to “Closed.” Rushing back to the dresser, I root through every part of it. I take out the drawers, inspecting each one. I reach inside the frame and make sure I’ve covered every inch. Nothing else is discovered. The next place I’m going is the bedroom closet.
Decisions
I run up the stairs, taking them two at a time. I need to find out if what my mother wrote is true. Inside her closet, I shove everything aside. It’s one area I hadn’t completely gone through. Out of sight, out of mind. She has boxes covering the back wall of the walk-in that I still haven’t gone through. I keep saying I’ll do it another time, only another time never comes.
When I have all of the boxes out of the way, and the clothes are relocated to the rods on either side, I look over the blank, white wall. Taking out her letter again, I skim it quickly. She said there will be a handle on the right side. There’s nothing visible, so I run my hand along the corner where the walls meet. All the way down the sheetrock to the floor I go and then back up, but much slower this time. When I’m about halfway up, I feel a bump in the wall. I use my nail and run it down the side of it. Sure enough, my nail pushes through what feels like paper, and I grasp a handle. Wrapping my fingers over it, I pull firmly on the wall. With a little effort it begins to move. Once I have the wall completely open, I see a door. It looks like any other weathered one. It’s a slate blue and the paint is chipping. I would think it’s been out weathering storms with the way it appears. There’s a piece of wrought iron crossing it in the middle, leading to a lock and knob in the same color as the wood.
The hidden wall is real. The door, leading to who knows where, is real. I bend at the waist and start to hyperventilate. How is all of this possible, and I never knew? I have more questions than answers, and there is no one here to answer them for me. The next question is, do I want to go through it? She wasn’t lying, at least not so far. I can’t even wrap my head around that there could be a whole other world just beyond that door.
I sit on the floor once my breathing steadies and stare at the door for hours. I read the letter again. My mother was always down to earth, never an airhead. This could be real, not a wild goose chase. Although, why she would send me on some off the wall adventure, I don’t know. That leads me to believe it’s not a fairy tale. I could meet my father on the other side. If he’s still alive.
The longer I sit here, the more I want to go through. If I go through, I might not be able to come back. She said the key might disappear. What the hell kind of key is this anyway? How does something inanimate disappear?
I have to be sure I really want to see the other side. I also can’t disregard the thought that once I’m there, I might not want to leave. Although, what if they’re still at war? I’m going to sleep on it. Yes, that’s the smart thing to do.
I eat dinner and go back to stare at the door. Watch television, door. Brush my teeth, door. I keep waiting for something to happen or someone to come crashing through. Shaking my head, I climb into bed.
An hour goes by and I’m still awake. I pick up the book I’ve been reading and flip the bedside lamp on. Two hours later and my eyes are finally starting to close. Then I enter my dreamland again.
It’s the same as it was the night before, and all of the other times, except for two things. The cottage doesn’t disappear when I emerge from it, and the man on the hill is pointing toward the door. The same door, I realize, as the one inside my closet.
The door is weathered, but what surrounds it is beautiful. It’s the same ivy I’ve seen before, but it’s brighter now, with beautiful hues of pink, purple, teal, and even the azure color of the flowers I usually see. The only things it doesn’t completely cover are the windows and door.
My gaze bounces back and forth between the man and the cottage. He seems insistent that I need to go to the door by the way his hand keeps pointing at it, which doesn’t make sense since I just came through it. His dragon is rearing up, front legs off the ground as it kicks toward the sky. It’s angry, I can sense it. What’s going on? I need to get to him, no matter what he’s pointing at. As I start to run, the dream fades.
I wake with a start and immediately go to the closet. Flipping on the light within, I walk to the wooden door and run my fingers over it. My decision is made; I’m going through.