Here is my contribution to Inspiration Monday for this week. Be gentle!
A Door in a Tree
She reached out uncertainly. From any other angle she would never have noticed the door. Her eyes blurred with too many tears to see much anyway. But, unlikely as it seemed, here it was (whatever “it” was).
Her fingers slid along the tiny gaps. There was little more than a sliver missing but it was enough for her fingers. She could just make out its shape. She ran her hands across the surface looking for a way to open it. There! She pulled the tiny knot; gently at first then harder. Nothing. She looked again. Smiling, now more certain, she grasped the handle and pushed. The door swung wide open to reveal… nothing, but a brick wall.
Despite her frustration she studied it. If she stood at exactly the same angle again might she find another door? She took a small step and stared hard. Was it the light or was one of the bricks slightly out of line? She leaned forward and pressed it hard. Nothing happened. This time it was instinctive. She leaned out, grabbed the brick and pulled.
Gears crunched as the whole wall tilted and, very slowly, lowered to form a cover between where it had stood and the edge of the doorway in front of her. The platform seemed to extend into the distance beyond. She couldn’t see anything more with the light in her eyes so there was nothing for it but to climb on top for a better view. Silently grateful to herself for the decision of jeans, not summer skirt, she pulled herself up.
“I guess I finally know how Dorothy felt, Toto”
She stared out onto a road winding its way into the far distance. Unlike Oz it all looked so perfectly normal that she was struggling to believe she hadn’t just knocked her head. The trees were just the same old oaks and beeches and the summer daisies littered the grass as they did behind her. In fact, if she didn’t know better, she would have said it was just a mirror image with her caught in the reflection.
She jumped onto the road and looked around. If she didn’t know better she could almost believe she had been given a chance to start again. She took a few hesitant steps and paused, taking in the view behind her. What did she really have to look forward to anyway? The tears were still drying on her cheeks; a reminder of what little she would leave behind. Perhaps this was the answer to her desperate prayers. Desperate prayers call for desperate answers, however odd. Whether it was the answer or not was of little importance. She knew it echoed her heart. She would never look back again.