Short Story – An Agent of Spiraling Chaos

I looked up and there was a two-handled door. I had never, I remembered, seen this here before. My mind began to hypothesize what might be beyond it, what great secrets I might see. Was it reality or only fantasy that was drawing me?

I thought I glimpsed a sundrop and a trace of moonlight, too. There was within the moment a task, which I must do. No one else was around to see this portion, this vision given me. The door beguiled me, it emptied me of doubt and cast my fears away.

As my hands touched the smooth cool handles and gripped both tight enough to open up the door, there was a whisper, perhaps I heard. It spoke, “Oh, now careful be, monsters are living in the spaces between yesterday and whatever can be, you see. The door is closed to prevent catastrophe. We need not enter, the adventure will exact a fee, as it has throughout history.”

I was so excited by the mystery, the words of caution had no effect on me. There was a click, a swish, and my eyes met so suddenly with something somewhat other, extraordinary. It seemed this strange door opened on a world even my creative brain had never before imagined could be.

Though the coastal breeze still brought the tang of a salt-tempered sea there were magenta-toned mountains just a little in the distance before me. I blinked and then stifled a shudder of fascinated glee. Ah, why did I hesitate? This was everything I ever hoped to encounter, a stratospheric milieu, a part of which I would be. Beyond this instant was an infinity stretching into eternity.

I stepped over the threshold and the door clicked quickly shut behind me. I reached back, pushed against the handles and found them locked. A momentary worry, then it deserted me. I was becoming a part of this uniquely beautiful country, more spectacular than even well-kept dreams. I was ready, primed for discovery.

Story and Photograph:
© Jo Ann J. A Jordan
Wednesday, July 10, 2024

This house sometimes brings me stunning opportunities for awesome unreal images like I have never seen. This one was ripe for the taking and caught my imagination.

Prompt: Stay alert for images that can ignite your imagination and lead to idea generation. Your mind is a creativity engine much more advanced than the most capable AI. Dream, imagine, make, and create.

Where the light was better there was little hope of ascending. Sharon sat at the desk with her hands on the keyboard hearing Landry’s voice in another cubicle. He might come to her next.

She shivered, let him not, Lord. Let him keep away, like the dogs at home, let him take his prizes elsewhere. There was no reason to fear, only that his hands had, they wandered.

She opened a new document and began the article assigned. Research: it would keep the plague of thought handily away. Handily, ah no, let’s not use that phrase. Not recalling hands.

“Tiller stops at edge of clearing, enough acreage to allow the land to grow. The farmers know the way to lay out the space, to make it productive. “ Productive of what, Sharon wondered. Launching lust, hands all over. Enough of that. Thought leads nowhere.

In the mountains she read, the farmers gravitated to terracing the fields. Creating spaces to help prevent erosion. She felt how the emotions were cascading from level to level. Soon there would be only the doubt, fear, and pain of the situation.

This was a dream job, the perfect solution to her need for experience. Was the price worth the lines on her resume? Was her body the booty for staying?

Landry, stepped up beside her, normally, like nothing at all. Then he put his hand on her shoulder. “How are you today, Sharon?”

She stiffened, “ Quite fine, sir. And you?”

“Ah, looking forward to your report. You can bring it to my office when you finish. I will go over it with you,” he said, his fingers wandering to her chest.

He left. She felt the lines across her face traced by her tears. Too bad Mom was not home for her to call, would never again answer her. There was only emptiness… It was beyond her to think about at the moment.

“Though clear cutting disturbs nature…” Clearly cut across her mind was the thought of being alone in his office again. How lecherous an editor, how accommodating a scribe. Like something old and traitorous. The body of work, the body to work.

Technically, there was nothing. No one would think a moment about his hands. No one would consider it a problem. A person like her, well, crazy people invent things. Paranoids think outrageous stuff up. It really could be a misunderstanding.

“The yield was often greater in the soil beneath. Ages left it fertile and allowed it to give a fine harvest.” Yielding was tantamount to agreeing. Saying everything was alright, when actually it was a terror.

She looked into the screen, and felt the door opening a crack, the fabric gave… Sharon knew nothing mattered enough, she closed the document. Her purse was beside her ankle and she drew the strap over her shoulder. She left the cubicle, hearing the soft click of other keyboards, then she was gone.

Quit, chapter over. A moment among others, freedom no more delayed.

Monday, June 24, 2024

Category: Short Story

Two Handled Door

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