Warden's Fantasy Shorts

The Door

This is yet another of the many old stories that I've posted on Tumblr but not here.  I have a lot of them. 

Prompt: There is a doorway in the forest. It is made of twigs stacked together and the wind never seems to affect it. Children are warned to never go through it. Adults give it a wide berth. She has decided to step through.

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She had been taking a walk through the woods (again) when she saw it (again). She was curious about it, as most were as kids, but she was eighteen now. Well past the age where people usually started to fear the door. "Don't go near it," everyone said. "Stay away. No one knows what it is."

"Why doesn't someone find out what it is?" She had often asked.

"Because it's unnatural. Is that not reason enough?"

Not really. But she never questioned it. If the only reason they could come up with was 'unnatural,' then they would defend that reason to the death, she had learned. Terrible reasons were the most defended.

She was fascinated by the door, had vowed to go through it one day. But not yet. All the times she had found it, no matter where it was, it had never felt like the right time.

This time, it was in a small glade, surrounded by massive, twisted oaks. The moss was deep on the ground, thick on the trees. Creeping vines hung from the trees, tangled in the top of the door. The air hung heavy, still, filled with... something. She couldn't name it, but it felt right. Soon, she thought. This is the place, but not the time. She didn't know how she knew. She wanted to stay. She left. Didn't know why, told herself she had something to do at home, but she didn't, and she knew it.

She found the all but unused walking trail leading out of the forest, moved easily along its cracked, pitted, crumbling surface. Once she was on the better maintained path out of the forest, she tripped and stumbled, almost fell. She made her way home a bit more carefully. She still tripped, but managed to get in the door without a new scratch.

Home felt wrong. It always had. 'Home' never felt like home, not like the forest did. Everywhere in town just felt off to her. In town, she was clumsy, awkward. That disappeared when she went into the forest. In the forest, she moved with ease, knew her way perfectly. Out of the forest, she tripped, stumbled, got lost.

The next day it rained. It wasn't enough to keep her away from the forest, and she was there now, sitting in a small space in a pile of rocks that kept her out of the rain. She had found the spot years ago, when she was still exploring the forest, committing all its paths and secret places to memory. When she had found it, she had started to spend time out in the forest even in the rain. Her parents didn't like it, but they never stopped her. If it was thundering, however, her parents would prevent her from going out, and said she had to come in if it started while she was already in the forest. It wasn't thundering now, but she was an adult, living on her own. If she wanted to stay out, she would have. She stayed in the shelter of the rock pile until it stopped, then made her way home. It was late, and she had work to do.

The next few days were clear, and she went out. She stayed away from the door. She knew it had stayed in the same spot this time, but didn't know how she knew. She also didn't know why she stayed away, but knew she should.

Two nights later, it rained again. It was clear by morning, but she was soaked by the time she made it to the forest. There were puddles everywhere, and she'd fallen in several, tripping over branches and twigs brought down by the storm. She stayed away from the door.

The next day she went to the door. She had followed some deer there, after they had come up to her. When the deer had walked away, she knew to follow them, and did. The door was in the same spot, and vine tendrils from the oak branches above had woven halfway through the twisted twigs of the door. She stood there and looked at the door with the deer, and left when they did.

Work kept her away from the forest the next day, but the day after, she packed a lunch and spent the whole day in the forest. She did not go to the door.

Two nights later, she woke up at midnight, and, half-asleep, walked to the forest. She made her way to the door, barely aware of her actions, the time, where she was, but acutely aware that she was being watched, and guided. When she reached the clearing with the door, she found herself more awake than she ever remembered. Even so, there was a dreamlike quality to everything, and a feeling that she needed to wake up gripped her. I am awake. Was she? Wake up. I have. Hadn't she? It's time.

She entered the clearing, saw the door. The vines had fully covered the door now, and the twigs were barely visible. As she approached the door, the forest held its breath. She stepped through, and the forest changed. She heard the leaves whispering in the sudden, gentle breeze.

She's here.

She's back. The queen!

She knew. She remembered. Thousands of lives flooding to her.

Welcome back, Queen Aeryn.