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Short Story

Rather than simply not realizing the essence of what happened to him, he went on going forward until he hit yet another dead end. He was walking really fast almost like someone was chasing him, and by the time he reached his point of destination, he knocked. But there was no answer. So he knocked again. This time an old lady showed her face at the window and told him to go away. It was not the place he was supposed to be. He didn’t belong there.

The tall trees in the closest alley made the place impassable. But there was no other route. And the old lady wouldn’t open the door. He tried and struggled to go thru there, but the simple impossibility of the action made him want to give up. Until he realized he could easily climb the trees and go above the entire setting. Was this possible? And what could he actually obtain from running away. He just wanted to get out. He needed something else. Convinced it was the only option he had, he started climbing the trees, but fell, injuring himself even harder.

When he fell, he fell deeper than he started climbing. He was already on the other side, but he fell in a hole. As for what the hole was doing there, it cannot be explained. There was a piece of wood in the hole that said: “This hole can only bring you to where it began. The only way to continue your current life is to start digging and hope you will find something. Another exit perhaps…” Untrusting a piece of wood, he took the rushed decision to get out. Therefore he was amazed of what he saw. The funny thing was that he was still there. The piece of wood meant nothing. It was just a fiction of someone’s pure imagination. And he was fooled by it. Holding the piece in his hands, he realized there was an address on its back. He set to follow the road that will lead him to the trickster’s house. But there were no roads. No routes. He was trapped in something unexplainable. So he started walking in a totally random direction.

He frequently switched directions and hit various dead ends that brought him only sorrow. Until there was nothing more to switch. By this time he reached a place. A house. He gently knocked on the door, but there was no answer. It was not the place he was looking for, but it was the only existing place. He didn’t belong there, but without realizing he knocked again. An old lady looked thru the window. He opened and let himself in. Inside, there was a door. The old lady was sitting by the door. She was the one opening it. When he looked closer, on the door there was the address he was looking for. He wanted to open the door, but there was nothing there. There was nothing beyond the door. The door was the only logical and physical thing, place or object.

It started to snow, but there was no way out of the house. There was only a way in, the way he came thru. The old lady offered him the key for the door, but she wanted the piece of wood instead. After making the switch, he opened the door using the key, but to his not so amazement, there was no change. The key did nothing, but to bring more false hope for him. He was already feeling better after the fall and all, but he was so very cold because of the snow.

The solution came to him when he realized the snow was going from east to west. From right to left. It was snowing horizontally. The snow had to come from somewhere, even if it didn’t go anywhere. He kept walking in the dark until he fell in hole. There he found yet another piece of wood that said: “Are you ready to dig now?”

florin@fogdd.com

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Short Story

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