by Andy Young
they? Names? Warnings?”
Shrug looked at the doors, as if he’d never seen the symbols before. “Those are symbols of some kind,” he said at last.
“Helpful,” said Natalie. “Why should I open the doors? What if I don’t?”
“You bring the spring,” said Shrug. “It’s your job.”
“But the one creepy statue thing says I shouldn’t do it.”
“Don’t listen to Ms. Pink,” said Shrug. “You have to do what you have to do.”
Natalie looked at the doors, then again at the symbols, then back at Shrug.
“Hey, wait a minute. You said Ms. Pink. How did you know that?”
“It’s her name.”
“But I just made that up.”
“You’re Nightfall,” said Shrug. As if that explained anything.
“I’m Natalie. I’m done with opening doors. What’s behind the wall?”
“Nothing,” said Shrug. “You need to open the door.”
Natalie stuck her tongue out at Shrug, walked away, around the corner of the wall. She paused, blinked, shook her head. Instead of being behind the wall, she was back in front of it again, with Shrug there waiting for her, Ms. Green and Ms. Blue standing beside him.
“Huh?” she said. She turned and went back around the wall...
...and it was the same. The wall was exactly the same in front and in back. She tried to look at both places, but the wall was just thick enough to prevent that, and the forest was close behind her, a thick tangle of brambles and trees, so she couldn’t back up for a better angle.
“Time is running out,” called Shrug.
“I don’t want to,” said Natalie. “It’s messing things up in my life. My math test.”
“You think that’s messed up?” said Shrug. “You should see what happens if you don’t open the door.”
“Ms. Pink says I shouldn’t.”
“Don’t trust her.”
“Why shouldn’t I trust her?”
“Why should you?”
“What if she is right and you are wrong, Shrug?”
“Right and wrong is daytime thinking. You’re Nightfall. You have to bring the spring.”
“I don’t have to do anything. I’m lucid dreaming.”
“Loose what?”
“Lucid. I’m in control.”
“You’re always in control. But you still have to do your job.”
I won’t, thought Natalie, but then she thought: then what? I always wake up after the door opens. If I don’t open it, will I just stay asleep? Isn’t that the same as dying? And what will happen if I don’t bring the spring?
Wait, wait. None of this matters. This is a dream, right? I didn’t come here. This isn’t some actual place on a map. I’m home, in bed, asleep. This is not real. It doesn’t matter what I do. But I do want to wake up.
“Fine,” said Natalie. She walked up the steps closest to her. Shrug, Ms. Green and Ms. Blue hurried to catch up, running (or gliding) up the opposite steps and hurrying over.
This door was guarded by... Ms. Yellow. Her eyes were already open.
“To open the door that you see you must answer this riddle from me.”
“Hey, nice rhyme,” said Natalie.
“Thanks,” said Ms. Yellow. “Always glad to meet a fan. Especially one covered in such lovely stars” Natalie decided she liked Ms. Yellow, though she was just as creepy looking as the others.
“So what’s the riddle?”
“Ah yes. You are the key.”
“I’m what?”
“You are the key.”
“That’s the riddle?”
“Just figure it out,” said Shrug.
“You shut up,” said Natalie. “I’m not doing this for you. I just want to wake up.” She looked at the door. “There isn’t even a keyhole, not even a small one. How can I be the key?”
“You are the key,” repeated Ms. Yellow. “Don’t blame me, dear, I’m just doing my job.”
“Like you’re supposed to,” said Shrug meaningfully.
“Then do yours and be quiet,” said Natalie. “Let me think.”
“My job is not to be quiet.”
“I’m Nightfall,” said Natalie. “And I say it is. Hush.” She looked at the door again, back at Ms. Yellow. She searched her dress for pockets, but found nothing.
“She said you are the key,” said Shrug. “Not that you have it. Just saying.”
Natalie glared at him, then paused, and smiled. “Oh. Right. It’s not even locked, is it?” She reached out and pulled on the handle. The door opened easily. Behind it was a small vase made of ice.
“That’s beautiful,” she said.
“Don’t touch it,” said Shrug.
It became her new strategy: just get the door opening bit over with as fast as she could so she could wake up again. She arrived in the woods each night and started marching for the doors right away, followed by a growing contingent of colorful creepy girls (though not Ms. Pink), not bothering with any more questions or discussions. Doors five through ten were all riddles, as follows:
What is one hundred plus one hundred? (You’re not serious, she thought. Are they all going to be like this?)
What is on one side of the room in the morning, up on the ceiling at noon, and on the other side of the room in the evening? (Ok, she thought. That's more like it)
What kind of key could never open one of these doors? (This was just like a joke she’d heard before)
What stays in one place but is always moving, and goes under you if you go over it? (This took a little thinking)
What is between night and day? (This was hard, and took a lot of guesses)
How do you spell recommend? (Seriously? she thought, but recommend was actually a word she always had trouble with, and Shrug made it clear she had only one chance on this one; before she’d been able to guess as much as she wanted. She got it right)
The answers were:
Two hundred;
The sun;
A monkey;
A river;
A space (as in the space on a page: night and day were the words: ‘night’ and ‘day’, with a space between them)
r-e-c-o-m-m-e-n-d.
Behind each door there was always a gift, though of course she could never touch them. The first five were:
Six pieces of golden honeycomb;
A single green apple;
A can of Mountain Dew (No way, she thought);
A rock;
An egg.
The sixth (behind door ten) was the best gift yet, or at least the most unexpected. Behind the sixth door was a trio of elf things like Shrug, one with a drum, one with a guitar-looking thing and one with an accordion-looking thing. They played and sang a merry tune:
Here comes Nightfall gold and blue
Says she’s Natalie, but that’s not true
Opens doors to bring the spring
‘Cos bringing spring is Nightfall’s thing
...followed by a blistering accordion solo by one of the little guys.
“Wow!” said Natalie, clapping. “That was great. Can I keep them?”
“Ha,” said Shrug.
“Hey, Shrug,” said one of the musicians. “How ya doing?”
“Fine.”
“No way,” said Natalie. “They call you Shrug? I just made that up.”
“You’re Nightfall,” said Shrug. “You should be more careful.”
“Am I like a Goddess or something?”
The band tittered. Shrug rolled his eyes. “That’s-”
“Daytime thinking, right,” said Natalie. “I get it.”
Now she had ten new dolls, and of course it was only a matter of time before they caught her parents’ attention. Her dad noticed them one morning after breakfast, peeking into her room just before she left for school.
“Hey, Nat. Have I seen those dolls before?”
“Dolls?” she said, wishing
she’d thought to hide them. Duh. “Which dolls?”
“The spooky looking ones with the cone-bodies. Have you always had them?”
“Sure,” said Natalie.
“I saw those,” said her mother, poking her head in, too. “They’re new, aren’t they?”
“Um...”
“She says she’s had them always.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
“Never noticed them before.”
“Me neither.”
“They’re creepy.”
“I thought so.”
Natalie let them work it out, convince themselves that the dolls belonged in her room and that they always had. I should hide them, she thought, or get rid of them. I can’t just ignore them like they are nothing real at all. They have to be coming from somewhere.
Outside it had snowed, a good four inches, but the snowplows were on top of things and school wasn’t cancelled. Natalie got out the door early, with plenty of time to walk. She ran her hands along the wall, sweeping off the snow, made a snow angel, then drew one of the symbols she’d seen above the doors into the snow with her foot.
“Hey Karen,” said Jessie, behind her on the sidewalk.
“It’s Natalie.”
“Is that your own language?”
“What?”
“Is that your own language? That symbol? I have my own language. Kittycat!”
Kitty cat? “Um, what?”
“That’s how you say hello in my language. Kittycat!”
“Oh,” said Natalie. “Um, I don’t do that.”
“Here’s how you count to ten,” said Jessie, undeterred. “Frog, log, hog, fog, bog, dog, tog, zog, mog, rog. I ran out of real words.”
“Ah.”
“You have hog trees in your yard.”
“Um,” said Natalie. “Three?”
“Yes! See?”
“School is starting soon,” said Natalie, making her escape. In science class her onion was making waves. Even though it was planted in beach sand (and Natalie, distracted, had forgotten to water it), it was growing better than any of the others, already twice as high as the second tallest shoot.
In social
