Dreams Of Doorways

By

Tuesday-Rose Steves

Disclaimer: This is my own original work.

Copyright to the author 2003

Children of the South Niche were never granted permission to play outside. The lads could never bounce their plastic balls under the sky of rubies, nor could the lasses organize a double-dutch competition. The winds were foul from the Niche Hills, and the bitter frost hung in the air throughout summer and spring. Daring to take a step out into the dead village would be a fatal step, a long way down.

Where is down, you ask? Well, it certainly isn't beneath your feet- the frozen-over sand could not be slit. And up isn't down, up is the moon and the clouds, and the children never fell into the sky. If they could, they would be bounding out onto the earthly soil in an instant, because you see, the children knew they could bounce the balls higher and skip quicker on the blue cheese moon, and they could play hide-and-go-seek in the craters. And they could fall into the clouds for bedtime, and consume the vanilla ice cream pillows. But up isn't down, and the children of South Niche have never slept in the clouds.

I suppose down may be sideways. You see, the children have been cursed with tunnel vision. Blackness all around them, and the light shining in front of them as the way out. They try not to touch the darkness, but when the whispers call your feet to curve, you must slam the door, right away. Stay behind the door always, children, and never play outside!

Inside the houses, the floors were littered with coloured paper flowers and cardboard autumn leaves. The girls loved to smear the paper flowers with bright colours and fold them elegantly. "Is this what flowers really look like?" Seven-year-old Naomi asked her Mother yesterday, who didn't respond. How was she supposed to know? The rooms had no windows.

Only once had a child ever been so dim as to open the door. Nolan Lanciceits, I believe his name was. He had never seen the stars in the night sky, and he dashed out onto the street, looking eagerly to the Heavens. If he had only taken a quick glance out the doorway he would have discovered there were no stars that night. Through the streets you could hear him scream as he went blind, after sprinting sideways. If anyone gazed outside from their doors, they would see Nolan, though very faded and translucent, wandering in circles inside a cloud of darkness, the light no longer at the edge of the tunnel, as he had taken a path you could not return from.

Yolanda also couldn't help but glimpse outside, though she stayed in her doorway. She saw the trees of deep green, and their gorgeous bronze trunks. The leaves wavered melodically, some blonde, others a faint fiery shade. Yolanda had stared so long at the beautiful, and strange trees that the shadows almost lunged for her face. The trees stood spirited against the pale blue backdrop, though she could only see them far away and distant, and she knew she would be blind to them if she dared to take a step closer, for a better look. Ever since Yolanda has been locked inside her room, dreaming about the foreign beauty and painting portraits of them, the leaves golden and amber and green. She would never show her brothers or sisters- they would laugh at her, and never believe her tale of the trees.

Children of South Niche were never granted permission to play outside. Down was sideways into the dark, and when venturing out into the fields, you would never be given a sheer linear pathway.