We weren’t allowed to go beyond the wooden door. The spirits kept us confined to a spacious village by complex spells no adult wizard could unmake. Food was abundant, and we had artificial sunlight, so nobody protested against this captivity, even though every adult would eventually be possessed by a spirit. We were safe when we were kids. However, I was nearing the age when they would overtake me.
“Why can’t we go to that forest?” I’d ask them.
“They say the mushroom clouds still hang over those lands.”
“The radiation will kill you.”
The answers never satisfied me. We were all wizards, weren’t we? I was sure I’d be able to protect myself.
It was a windy day. I was shaking, so were the trees, so was the reality I was bending. I approached a spirit of Sloth who was sound asleep in what used to be my mother’s body. The spirit’s anchor wasn’t hard to find. I took it—Sloth vanished, the body died. Using the anchor to break the barrier at the door, I fled into the realm with no daylight.
It’s been three weeks and I’m still alive, but I have yet to find another human.
La Porte by Henri Duhem
Written for Jane Dougherty’s Microfiction Challenge. SOMEDAY I will write a story about rainbows and bunnies (with a happy ending), but it is not this day.
All comments are welcome!