Choices

 The doors stood on the beach like two great sentinels. The one to the left If you stood facing the sea, was made from stone, crudely carved, yet unmistakably a door. A glowing green symbol dominated the upper half. A stone, a circle, and three lines. The other carved from wood, is a work of mastery. Painted and decorated with tiny green leaves, small yellow berries, and hidden animals inlaid in gold around the edges. One could spend hours following the design as it leaped into a fish, pounced into a cat. One continues line of life.

               For a moment, I wondered how I managed to find myself here, the beach looked unfamiliar, the sea a blue so bright it made my eyes hurt. The sun overhead was high, hot, and menacing. I longed to dip my aching feet in the cool water, but I knew that I dared not do so. Danger lurked; I could feel it in my bones.

               Logic tells me to choose the beautiful door, the one that looks like life, after all, aren’t we hard wired to do so? But I’d read enough Russian fairy tales in my youth to ever trust such an obvious choice. Don’t take the gold, take the sand. That was one of the first lessons I had learned as a child. Take the useful, not the shiny.

               In nature the prettiest creatures are often the deadliest, I remind myself and take a step closer to the doors. As I get closer to the stone door, I notice that there are circles, swirls carved in so subtly that I hadn’t even seen them. Closer still, I could see that the lines were a series of miniscule dots. It appeared hand carved, and I was amazed at the sheer time consumption it must have taken to complete such a work. I picked one line and began to follow it as it weaved its way across the stone.

               Mesmerized, I spent what felt like hours examining the door to its last detail. There was writing, in a language I could not read but in a handwriting that looked oddly familiar. Loops and whirls that made me feel at home some how. When I touched it, I felt a warmth that made me want to hug the stone. Once when I was young and my Dad found a stray kitten in the cold, we wrapped a towel around the kettle and the cat curled against it like a baby seeking mom, this is what this stone made me feel. I wanted to curl up against it, take comfort and weep.

               I pulled my hand away, not convinced just yet, I needed to be certain, somewhere I knew this was a choice I would only get to make once.

               Behind me, somewhere deep in the jungle, a growl emerged from the darkness and curled around my fear. It was awake, my heart began to pound. I didn’t have much time left.

               Now at the other door, I examined the berries on the vines with the tiny leaves. They had looked so inviting and tasty but now that I was closer there was an unhealthy sheen the fruit, some where deep in my monkey brain something was very afraid of those berries. My eye followed the vines, and I noticed, that the golden inlaid animals were all predators, Wolves, jungle cats, sharks, alligators. For a moment I wondered what happened to their prey and then swallowed hard realizing that I was that prey. I reached my fingers towards the carved wooden surface and before my fingers even made contact, I felt a cold that made my skin run with goosebumps. This was corpse cold. Not a low temp but the very lack there of. I shivered and pulled my hand back.

               Behind me the growl was slowly turning into a snarl and getting closer. I took a deep breath and reached for the handle of the stone door.

               Locked. It was locked. I stood in shock for a moment, pulling at the door, tears streaming from my eyes. I had made my choice but that wasn’t enough it would seem. The noise behind me was getting closer, now I could hear hoof beats and leaf crunch. There was more then one, what ever it was.

               Panic rose inside me like bile, I took deep breath and  reached for the wooden door. Not the door I wanted, I was sure, but any where might be better then here and I pulled the handle. It was locked as well, and I could feel the anxiety take on a new, higher pitch.

               I screamed in frustration. Panic now wrapped around my neck like a vice. Both doors locked. No escape to the water, no going back. What the hell was the point of this I screamed out loud and threw myself against the locked stone door. I began pounding on the unyielding surface screaming let me in! let me in!

               The growl, which was now a snarl and heavy breathing was closing in, any minute now I knew I would see the dust rise as the group of what ever was chasing me found the beach, and me. Images of what would happen if they found me danced through my head and I redoubled my efforts on the door. I wracked my brain, wasn’t there usually magic words that went along with a thing like this? Scenes from old fairy tales ran through my mind and I remembered every magic door, magic word, magic anything. I was desperate, running out of time. I hugged the door and closed my eyes certain that I would die and uttered my last word.

               “Please.” The door swung open, and I fell into another world.

               I awoke on a bed, all soft and warm and comfortable, and for a moment I lay just enjoying the feeling of comfort. I was groggy, weak , and I stretched beneath the covers.

               There was a faint knock at the door, and I tried to hide beneath the covers, pretending I hadn’t woken up. The door opened and through my nearly closed eyes I could see a kindly old man bringing in a tray. Something smelled amazing and I lifted me head, inhaling the aroma of food.

               “You gave us quite a scare” said the little man, smiling at me. He was wrinkled and wizened but I could see the kindness etched like a map across his features. I relaxed and smiled back.

               “I’m sorry” I managed before the man brought me a bowl of soup and a spoon.

               “No need for sorry,” he said, sitting on the corner of the bed, “ We were just surprised to find any one out by the stone circle. Had it not been for my sheep being frightened by the children we would have never gone out that way. What where you doing out there? It’s a dangerous place, especially at night.”

               I took a sip of the soup, found it as good to taste as it had been to smell and began to eat slowly.

               “I’m not sure,” I tell him. I was being honest, I had no idea where I was, so how was I supposed to know about a stone circle. I cast my mind back but found only darkness and anxiety.

               “Well, its not important, at least you are safe now. My name is Ferdinand, but everyone just calls me Din. What shall we call you? “

               I swallowed the mouth full of soup and thought a while. My mind was blank, my heart began to pound faster.

               “I’m…” I paused; it wouldn’t come to me. The space where my name used to be, was blank, as if stolen by a thief in the night. I tried to think of my home, nothing, my family, nothing. I put the bowl down and put my hands up to me head. Checking for lumps, bruises and found a large goose egg on the back of my skull. I winced as I prodded at it with my fingers experimentally. Something vague whispered the word ‘concussion’ but I was beyond trying to sort out the meaning. Din watched me with interest and when I finally looked back at him, I saw concern in his eyes.

               “It’s all right, “he tells me soothingly. “It will come back. Rest now, gather your strength. Here you are safe.” I smiled weakly and nodded. Laying my head back down on the soft pillow I felt the drowsiness as it washed over me like warm bath. I wondered, not for the first time, just where I would wake up tomorrow.