...There was a Parallel

The door made a resounding click behind him and he glanced back instinctively.

What lay on the other side of the door was the same as what had lain on the original side.  At least, at first glance all was the same. But Old Man Norman only saw the same beach, with the same cottage on the hill, and felt a brief respite from depression and self-depredation when the anger hit.  Anger at being duped into opening the basic, ordinary door, anger at seeing nothing new on the other side, and most importantly, anger at being tricked out of having an adventure.  With resolute steps, he strode back to the door and twisted the knob and pushed.

What happened, my dear readers, astounded him.

Nothing.

The knob turned, yes, but the door did not open.  So he tried again.  And again.  And again.  The same result for every attempt only fueled his anger and frustration.  In a fit of anger, his booted foot met the white door with a fury only surpassed by an angry donkey.  The door barely shuddered.  It was solidly, firmly, and quite unmovablely locked tight.

It is important for you to realize something very special about this door.  While it may have the appearance of a white, basic, ordinary door, it was – in fact – quite the opposite of ordinary.  As Old Man Norman would soon discover, this was a one way door.  This realization, however, was slow in coming as he continued to battle the door, kicking, pounding, and screaming colorful obscenities at the immovable door until his feet were sore, his legs were tired, his fists were bruised, and his throat was sore.

Old Hermit Norman stomped over to a perfect looking, grey rock and plunked himself down on it.  He shook his wrinkled and gnarled fist at the door in a very pissed off manor and muttered under his breath about trick doors and dreams.  He determined that it had to be a dream.  He just needed to be patient until he woke up from the dream.

A very vital and important part of the story is present here that I shall inform you of, but that Norman has yet to observe in his dour mood.  A ways down the beach stood another door.  This door was quite tiny in nature, in fact it was barely large enough for a small hermit crab to fit through.  It was a carbon copy of the very door that he himself had gone through only minutes before.  And crawling to the door was a tiny hermit crab. 

The little crab’s name was Hermy.  He was a lonely little crab who had been searching for a new shell for days now, with his old one too tight and uncomfortable for the poor little thing.  He had driven off all of his companions with his anger at his discomfort, which is a silly thing, really.  Had he asked any of them, they would have surely pointed him in the right direction for a new shell.  Instead, he set out on his own to discover a new shell.  And the journey was miserable thus far.  He had braved the Meadow of Vicious Sharks, the Forest of Evil Gulls, the Plateau of Very Large Mammals, and was now crossing the Desert of Loneliness. 

While the Meadow of vicious Sharks had indeed been dangerous, with the large sharks with their pointy sharp, razored teeth, they had paid him little mind except when he would crawl across one of their fins or near to their eyes.  The gulls perched upon their buoys in the Evil Forest eyed him hungrily as he skittered by nervously, and the very large mammals on the plateau simply ignored the small crab.  It was the Desert of Loneliness that threatened to be his undoing.

Now, in each of these places Hermy found shells, yes, but none that satisfied his cravings.  But instead of discarding the shell he held onto it, until he was dragging behind him an insurmountable pile of shells.

Of course, our hermit did not know all of this about the crab, in fact, he didn’t even see the small creature nor did he see the small door.  I tell you this, not to give you an insight into the life of a hermit crab, but so that you may grasp something very important at this point in the story. There are many parallels that are present in our lives, bridging the span between multiple entities, be them human or animal.  Most we chose to ignore, some we miss altogether due to our lack of observation skills, and others are too obvious not to notice.  It took Norman awhile too long to notice what was different about this place.

The air was silent.  Completely and totally silent.

The waves made no noise on the beach, his breathing was hardly audible to even his own ear.  There was only one sound that could be discerned.  The soft skritch skritch of something scraping along the sand.  His eyes fell upon the small crab and he huffed in annoyance.  A twinge of familiarity was shoved down as he tromped to the door again. 

And he stared in astonishment at what he found.

The door had changed.

In all aspects and appearances, the door was the same.  But there was a certain air about the door that seemed different and instinctively he knew that should he ever actually go through that door, he would find himself in a location completely unexpected and unknown.

He stumbled back a little from the door and stared, pondering.  The skritch skritch of the crab started to pound in his brain, fighting for him to focus his attention on it.  He ignored it and continued to will himself back to his little cottage of solitude.

A thud tore his attention away from the door and down finally to the crab.  Hermy was slamming his little body against the little door and was failing continuously, the shells he’d been dragging banging together until one fell off, rolling across the sand.  The little crab and our hermit friend both stared at the shell, realization dawning on one of them.

Slowly, the shells began to roll away as he cut them away from his body until he was left with only the original.  Crawling to the largest of the shells, he wiggled himself out of the old and into the new home.  Venturing towards the door, he found that it effortlessly opened and he crawled through.

Norman huffed again at the absurdity of the whole situation and plunked his old self back onto the rock, content to sit there and rust.

But the absolute silence started to pound in his ears and reverberated inside his skull.  He could see the waves and knew there should be crashing and sloshing.  He could feel his chest move with breath and knew he should hear himself breathing.

Yet there was not a sound.

In a panic, he leapt to his feet and bolted for the door and attempted to twist the knob once more.

And he sprawled face down in the grass on the other side.


Next >>