Wayne Batson - The Door Within

He saw a large cardboard box. It was overflowing with toys, but in the ghastly green shades cast from the windows, these toys were not a cheery sight. A wooden sailboat, a broken drum, and a doll that stared back with one eye-Aidan cringed as he passed them.

Aidan scuttled over to a workbench up against the far wall where, to his great relief, he found a small lamp that still worked. In the new light he made many discoveries: an old radio with large wooden knobs, a stack of newspapers from the 1950s, and half of an old baseball card of a player named Gil somebody. Thinking that there might be more old baseball cards, hopefully intact, Aidan began to search meticulously through other boxes nearby. No luck. The boxes were filled with musty smells, wads of tissue paper, or other smaller boxes. No ’52 Mantle, no ’81 Ripken.

Aidan sighed and furrowed his eyebrows. He marched over to the far corner of the basement but stopped abruptly when he heard something. It was faint and might ordinarily have gone unnoticed, but because of Aidan’s nerves and the unearthly quiet of the basement, it was as bone jarring as an explosion.

Aidan stood still as a tombstone, but his eyes strained in wide arcs. The noise clearly came from the angular nook beneath the steps, but there was nothing there. No bike with a rotting, leaking tire. No box with a mouse family within. No tipped paper cup with a roach clicking about in search of food. There was just bare cement floor. The sound continued, a raspy, whispering sound like wind disturbing a pile of dead leaves. It was getting louder. Aidan thought suddenly of the thing watching him from the pine outside his window.

His heart now lodged somewhere in his throat, Aidan lunged toward the stairs-for there was no other way out of the basement. Just a few more steps, and he’d be… But on Aidan’s very next step, the lamp on the workbench flickered, dimmed, and with an audible pfffft, died.

The darkness was almost total. Even the green light from the basement windows had been blotted out. Aidan stood frozen again, his eyes darting. He opened his mouth to scream, but his voice chose not to cooperate. He thought humorously that even if he had screamed, the only one in the house was Grampin. What could the old guy do?

The noises continued to get louder and sounded less like wind and more like deep breaths being exhaled. There was an especially loud breath and something sparkled on the floor beneath the stairs.

It was like blue electricity-flickering and powerful. There was a pause and the sparkles faded. Another breath, and the sparkles rekindled and began to swirl as if rapidly climbing a spiral staircase. Another pause-fade and then another breath-sparkle. This time two more electric spirals appeared directly behind the first. All three pulsed with energy and then dimmed. Suddenly, the electric sparkles glowed fiercely, bathing the basement in blue. Then, they waned and disappeared.

Just an electrical arc of some sort, Aidan thought, trying to calm himself.

Then the lamp on the workbench came back on just as suddenly as it had gone out, and there on the floor beneath the stairs were three tall clay pots.

Aidan shook his head. Were they there before?

Aidan took a few tentative steps closer. Each pot was dusty gray and at least two and a half feet tall. There was no writing or decoration of any kind on them. They had lids that made them look like huge, ancient cookie jars.

His mind whirled with ideas. His heartbeat raced off the charts. Only a moment ago he had been terrified, but now all he could think about was what could be inside! Gold and silver coins? A treasure of emeralds, rubies, and diamonds? Aidan smiled, his mind already imagining what he would buy with his newfound riches.

Then again, Aidan thought, each jar could be filled with something less pleasant, like cobras or-yuck-somebody’s ashes!

Either way, Aidan had to find out, so he reached slowly toward the clay pots.

There was no blistering heat and no biting electric shock, but the moment Aidan’s finger touched the first pot, all three of the pots shattered. Aidan flinched and pulled back, feeling very much in trouble for breaking something so valuable. He half expected his mother to run down the stairs immediately to lecture him about his carelessness. She didn’t, of course; for she wasn’t at home.

Then Aidan noticed that lying in the shards of each pot was a scroll. TREASURE MAPS! Aidan hoped as he reached down and picked up one of the scrolls. It was surprisingly heavy, and Aidan immediately saw why. For it was not one but many pieces of parchment rolled up and secured by a leather lace.

Aidan scooped up the other two scroll bundles. He carefully walked up the darkened, creaky basement stairs, but at the top he bounded through the door and rushed to his room-all the while wondering what was in the scrolls.

C arefully, Aidan untied the lace around the first scroll. As he unrolled it specks of parchment fell to the bed. He caught his breath, fearing the scrolls might be so ancient and brittle that they would crumble to dust if opened. Aidan’s fears proved unfounded, for the pages were quite thick-more a stout cloth than paper.

A stone castle tower was emblazoned near the top of the first page and seemed to guard the beginning of the text-which, to Aidan’s relief, was in English. Aidan read the first line aloud.

Outside of time and place, there is a realm of great nobility and renown.

Aidan’s mind buzzed with excitement. He read the words over and over, as if he was sampling some rich, delectable treat. Eagerly, he gently turned to the next page.

For the next three hours, Aidan lay in his bed reading the scrolls, his mind mesmerized by the fantasy world unfolding before him.

The first scroll told the story of another world, a region known only as The Realm. Early in the history of The Realm, a vast and glorious medieval kingdom known as Alleble became very powerful. The kingdom grew and gave birth to many neighboring cities. In time, castles and townships appeared in every corner of the known world. But Alleble was the Father Kingdom. And like a good father, Alleble protected all of its offspring, those who swore allegiance to Alleble, and even the many who did not. There was a great time of peace, for Alleble’s power was absolute. Its King, sovereign. Its armies, unmatched.

There were, of course, occasional skirmishes between smaller armies, much as young siblings might bicker. And there too were natural threats, aggressive creatures that left their caves and other dark places of the world to assault the strongholds of nearby cities. But with each incident, the King of Alleble saw to it that all conflict was resolved and order restored. The Peace, as it was called, did not last. For in all its plans to protect its people from the dangers lurking outside it, Alleble never dreamed of a war within the kingdom.

Aidan had read lots of fantasy fiction before: King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table, Oswald’s Quest, The Dark Mountain Chronicles-all mysterious and exciting tales. But something about the story in the scrolls was different. Of course, none of those other tales were written on ancient scrolls Aidan had found, but it was more than that.

From the first word, Aidan found himself strangely connected with everything he read. Yet a suspicion grew at the edge of Aidan’s consciousness. Sure the story was full of fantasy stuff-knights, castles, dragons, and other beasties-but it sure seemed real. Of course, it could not be real, Aidan thought. However, certain elements nagged Aidan to reconsider. The unbelievable detail, for instance. Things like the exact measurements of a castle gate or the precise number of knights killed in a specific battle-even their names! Some of these lists went on for almost an entire page.