Eternity

Center your story around a character discovering a hidden door or path.

Eternity

by Denise Beck-Clark

I love my apartment and I love the woods that are just a few feet away, on the other side of a chain link fence and the building’s parking lot. My apartment is on a corner so when I sit on the terrace, it’s fairly private.

Sadly, though, my home of many years falls short of perfection because it’s located on a noisy street which ruins the peace. But the woods. The woods are why I’ve stayed here for so long. I’ve written poems and stories about the woods and now, another.

I love woods and forests. I love how they’re dark and cool, and a world unto themselves. The strange thing is that the woods I live next to, I’ve never ventured into them. I’ve thought about it often. I’ve asked myself, why, in all the years I’ve lived here have I never gone into those woods?

The answer is fear. Fear? How could I be scared of woods, something I love? I’m not scared of woods in general, just these. When I imagine going into them, I picture first, the animals that may live there, such as mice, skunks, raccoons, rats, and the odd unexpected puma or coyote. I think, would I want to run into one of those? The answer is obvious.

And then, there are the human kind of animals I wouldn’t want to run into. Like homeless people who seek the same safety I assume the woods offer. They may have tents, or cardboard boxes rescued from nearby dumpsters. Or, depending on the weather, they can just hang out there, until they’re ready to move on.

But the truth is I’ve never seen anyone going into this forest.

One day in late summer, I’m sitting on my terrace, reading and dreaming. I fantasize about going to the edge of the woods and nonchalantly walking in, not worrying that people in passing cars would see me.

I realize that if I’m going to conquer my fear and resistance, I need to do it before winter when the leaves will be gone and the woods will no longer be a place of camouflage but of complete visibility through bare branches.

Having decided to do it, I consider whether to bring something that could serve as a weapon. Of course, I’d only use it if absolutely necessary, like, if I were being attacked. I decide I’ll bring the Swiss Army knife I’ve had for decades and never used (well, besides the nail file and screw driver, one time each, long ago).

I’ll also bring a small bottle of water, though it’s unlikely I’ll get dehydrated since my home is nearby. I don’t plan to stay long. I’m just going to walk in there, have a look around, then get out.

Trying to decide when to go, day or night? Day seems safer, there’ll be some light, but night, well I’m less likely to be seen going in there. Then again, a compromise: dusk. Or dawn?

Okay, I need to do it already. I’m procrastinating because I’m scared. What am I scared of? I’ve already gone into that.

Now, it’s about seven in the evening. All the sunlight has gone for the day. The light is simple, uncomplicated. Standing at the edge of the woods I can see that in there it is already night. I hear the leaves rustling. Also, cars on the road behind me zipping along to who knows where. Me, I’m on my way into a forest, but now I’m thinking maybe I should wait and go during daylight hours.

No, I’m here, so I’m going in. In my jeans pocket my hand fondles the Swiss Army knife. Having it encourages me to move forward. As I walk I think of the trees closing rank behind me, as if, ta da, now I’m theirs. They’ve captured me. Well, I can honestly say if I’m going to be captured by anything, I’m happy it’s trees.

It certainly is dark in here. Beyond the woods’ edges I see lights, from my building, cars, streetlights. In here, a total lack of electricity. It feels good, pure. Even though I’m still near a busy road, the air in the forest seems much fresher and cleaner. I take a couple of deep breaths, remembering that doing so is a good way of calming oneself.

I have to admit I’m anxious despite having turned on my flashlight. In my small backpack, along with the flashlight is a book, a snack of trail mix and chocolate, and three small bottles of water. I had thought about bringing wine but that seemed excessive. Now I wish I had.

The thought goes through my head that I could go and get wine. I mean I’m just a few steps from where I live. In fact, that’s what I decide to do. But when I turn around to exit the woods the way I came in, I’m shocked to find that the woods are only getting thicker in that direction. OMG, this is getting more and more weird.

I stop. Looking around I realize I can no longer see the lights I was able to see just a few minutes ago, from my building, cars, and streetlights. Where did they go? Where have I gone? Suddenly there’s a sound that is like that of a living being, a kind of mix between a growl and a laugh.

“Who’s there?” I call out, stopping again. In the flashlight beam I see only leaves, very dark green and dense. Damn, it sure didn’t look this way from my terrace. I really should have brought that wine.

I need to take stock of the situation. The small, innocuous forest I’ve watched through my windows for eons has suddenly become something else. Now, it’s as if I’ve stepped into what feels like a medieval forest. Like any minute I expect Sir Gawain to come riding through on a white steed.

“You can’t just stand here,” I tell myself as I begin to walk. At this point I don’t even know what direction I’m facing. I’ve lost all sense of orientation. I can no longer hear the traffic on the street that last time I checked bordered these woods. It seems as if everything has changed.

As I walk along, breathing the pristine air, I realize I’m on a path. There are berries on the trees that surround me. They’re the size of small grapes, bright red and plump. Pulling one off the branch I wonder if it’s safe to eat. I mean, it’s just one so even if it’s bad how bad could only one be. I pop it in my mouth and bite into it. Cool juice, a bit pulpy and very sweet fills my mouth. I swallow it down.

What did I just eat? As I continue walking I’m startled by the loud hoot of an owl. I look up and see it right above me, perched on a branch. I’ve heard of talking owls; maybe if I start. “Hi, Owl. Are you having a good day?”

The owl sort of turns his head so he’s looking up, but not at me. It appears as if his wing is pointing toward something. “What is it, Owlie?” I enquire. He seems to nod his head in the same direction his wing is pointing. I don’t see anything, at first. Just thick dark leaves bunched together, but as I move closer the leaves seem to part, like a curtain on a stage and there behind them, what? A door. It is beige and still partially covered by the drape of leaves. It occurs to me then that I might try to open it, assuming it’s not locked, of course.

Though why would a door in the middle of woods be locked? I’m sure there must be some philosophical term for this, i.e., the question is absurd with no answer because the real question should be why is there a door in the woods at all, never mind whether it’s locked or not.

Well, I’ve come this far in terms of overcoming my fears so why can’t I continue? Edging forward toward the door I touch the knob and quickly remove my finger in case it’s extreme in temperature. The truth is I touched and removed it so fast I didn’t feel it at all. There’s nothing on my finger either. No mark, or burn or anything. So I decide to be really brave and grab the whole knob with my whole hand. If anything it’s more cold than hot for which I’m glad.

I turn the knob and the door opens but just a crack, a couple of inches. What good is this? I put my eye to it, and that’s the last I remember.

When I wake up I find that I’m in the most beautiful tree house you could imagine. Made of wood, of course, though not logs, it’s a large room with, from what I can see, all the comforts of home, and then some. The most adorable little royal spaniel puppy appears next to the bed or sofa I’m lying on and rests its chin on the edge, staring at me with the sweetest doggie smile. I pet its head. “You’re so cute,” I say.

Sitting up, I look around. What is this place? And where is it? All three windows are large, but covered. Well that’s easy enough to remedy. All I need to do is push aside their curtains and I’ll know. But when I do, nothing but stars. This is really some kind of prank. But who’s the prankster? I’m the one who voluntarily walked into woods near where I live.

“Hello!” I yell out. The dog lets out a little yelp as if answering me.

“Yes, baby, talk to me. Where are we?”

Now it’s not talking. “Come on dog, help me.”

I stand up and that’s when I realize that we’re moving, tilting first one way, then the other, like those rides where people sit in big cups, except I’m standing and keep sliding this way, then that way with little Floppy Ears parked firmly in the middle and not moving.

When I’m finally deposited close to one of the windows I grab onto something and push aside the curtain or whatever it is covering the window and see the most fabulous sight: we’re in space! As in Outer Space.

The window itself dissolves beneath my grip and I’m suddenly breathing air like none I’ve ever breathed before. It’s perfectly clean and clear and my instinct tells me that within seconds I’ll leave this wooden treehouse-spaceship behind and float off to my next destination which I won’t know until I reach it.

Floating out there in the most exquisitely pure air, my perception suddenly feels just as vast and far reaching as if I have infinite knowledge in an infinite universe. And that’s how I’m able to know that just stepping over that invisible line that separates the forest from the trees, leads us to where we’re all dying to be: Eternity.