The Door

“Don’t let it out. DON’T let it out! DON’T LET IT OUT!” Mother screamed, pointing to the door. It rattled and shook, tremors running up and down the door. There were strange sounds pouring from the inside, sounds that couldn’t be defined. But they grated at her ears, produced tiny fissures in her skull. An icy wind slipped across the grubby tiles of the floor, ensnaring her ankles.

“Be a good girl. Sit in your chair and don’t move.” Mother said between frantic, ragged, breaths.

She sat down in the small white chair, like a throne made out of bones, its beautiful swooping patterns stabbing into her back. She smoothed the wrinkles out of her skirt, only to have the miniscule folds collapse onto each other again and again.

“I’ll be back in a little while, darling.” Mother bent down to plant a kiss on her cheek, and it was like a dry leaf scraping against her face. Mother scurried away, she watched her, willed her to go faster.

She nearly let a giggle. She could barely contain her excitement.

As she heard Mother’s footsteps on the stairs fade away, she stood.

She couldn’t wait to meet her new friend.