The Portal

The Portal

It’s been over a month now, and each day is morphing into the next. No doctor appointments until late next month. The kids bring me hot dishes Andy makes using his instant pot, and veggies Judy thinks I need. They leave this stuff on the porch, ring the bell or call, then take off. They’re pros at social distancing.

My days run together. Like the cartoon said “I’m retired, I don’t keep track of the days.” I’m there. But, getting older I do lose track of some things. So I note the date of my last shower. I take my weight each morning. I calendar my chores: when to wash the sheets, the towels, change the bed. And I calendar other things, well, one other: the day the cleaning lady comes. 

So I read books, watch tv, and often just space out. Recently, well, the last few weeks, I’ve seen what looks to be a hole in wall, above the fireplace, right in the middle of the TV. When I shake my head it disappears. Rather, it has disappeared. 

The hole isn’t there in the morning. It appears later in the day, after my nap or when reading a book. A black hole. Well, I don’t know the color. It’s just a hole. There’s no sound, no movement, and nothing spooky like vapors or aromas escaping into the room. At first it bothered me, this unknown event, this thing. For a few days I’d put my book down, get up, and go to the wall to see if it was really there. It was.

There was no one to call. Not the police. Not my daughters; it would just confirm to them that I’d been losing it. My few friends? Not likely. They’d agree with my girls. I wondered if it was a pathway to somewhere. 

My wife died a few years back. My girls are sure she went to heaven. They believe in that kind of thing. I don’t. But here’s this hole in my wall. Is there a reason, something I should know about? 

My brother is old, sick, and in prison. He has mental problems, and for years has denied having a family. He’s also denied the killing that got him locked up. But, maybe he’s trying to get to me, to awaken an old friendship, or do what he promised he would do one day. That in itself was enough to keep me away from the hole, this portal.

One afternoon I woke from my nap and noticed a bit of light inside the portal. It has always been black. Now it had something appearing to be deep inside, making luminescence. Nothing like a light bulb or spotlight. It was pale, almost ethereal, and distant. Moving close to the hole to see more I felt its depth. It wasn’t a chill, though the specter of some unknown something caused my skin to tighten, my imagination to run away from the black. 

Back to my seat I held myself close, shivered, and worried. I wondered what I could do? With no one to call, I accepted that I was alone. If there was something to be done, the ball was in my court. My mind was full with pithy sayings and trite sporting references. Right. Now I had the ball, I had to fish or cut bait, or whatever. 

The hole didn’t change. I did. In time I accepted the uncertainty it created. It was part of my life, part of each day. It was there in the afternoon, and gone in the early evening. Nothing came out, no being, no sound, no light-other than the glow. And it didn’t inhabit my dreams. I thought about that, but realized that I never did recall dreams.

One morning I forced my self to make a decision. Why? Because I felt the need to do something. I’d been sitting around, like a bump on a log, doing nothing. It was there, it didn’t move, didn’t do a thing. Well, it did irritate me. The decision was to climb into the hole, if I could. A ladder, a flashlight, and the roll of heavy duty thread I’d found in my wife’s sewing drawer. I was all set. I could get in and out, I could see where I was going, and the thread tied to the ladder would lead me back. That was my plan.

The hole was large enough for me to get in and onto my knees. I was prepared to crawl however far my tired old knees would take me. After a few yards the hole widened into some sort of tube, at least six feet in diameter. I could stand. A smooth surface, not stone or cement, perhaps metal of some sort. The bottom of the tube was flat, so walking was comfortable. Eerie, but comfortable. 

My light didn’t do much. It died as if shining into a pool of mud. No reflection, nothing but a few feet of the tube. I kept walking, trailing my thread, trying to count my paces but distracted by the nothingness. 

I’d been walking for perhaps 15 minutes when the faint glow moved toward me. Alarmed, I turned to go back to the entrance. Then it became light. Not sunlight, not light bulbs. Light in or on or part of the walls of the tube. It was light ahead, behind, above, and below me. I could see, though there was nothing. Just the light. 

“Welcome Jack.” A voice, low in pitch, rumbling, as if from deep in the throat surrounded me. No person or thing, nothing mechanical, Just a voice. Naturally I stopped. I waited. What else could I do? Turn and run? To what end? So I waited.

“We like it here Jack. And you’ve been a good host. Thank you.” It went on, and in time asked me questions about humans, our governments, our belief systems, and more. “There are many of us around your planet. We’re here to learn. It’s in our nature to learn, to grow, to understand. In time we leave.”

This voice did not answer my questions. It was pleasant, expressed curiosity, but didn’t offer any information. Responses to my questions were answered in generalities. It was a curious meeting. 

The voice dismissed me and I returned to my home, my chair, and my life. The hole was gone the next day. It did not reappear. There was nothing to signify its existence. I had nothing to tell. 

The good that came out of it was a relief of the boredom of my daily life. Fear, trepidation, confusion, sure. But I do have vivid memories. Maybe I’ll write a story or two.