Nightfall in the Kingdom of Winter

by Andy Young

lived just a few houses away, was already on her way, wearing a bright purple skirt with little green and yellow umbrellas all over it, a cardigan sweater that was way too big for her, and a red and white hat with a little poofy bit on top, like something an elf would wear. Natalie dragged her heels, but Jessie was a slow walker; Natalie had no choice but to catch up with her and try to pass, or be late for school.

  “Hi, Julie,” said Jessie, who never remembered Natalie’s name.

  “I’m Natalie.”

  “Did you have a dream?”.

  “What?” asked Natalie, surprised. “What do you mean?”

  “I had a dream,” said Jessie. “I was a hot dog seller at a football game, but all I had in my cart were frogs.”

  “Frogs?” asked Natalie, perplexed.

  “And toads. It was like a swamp in there or something. Can you lucid dream?”

  “Lose what?”

  “Lucid. It means control your dreams. I want to learn to control my dreams and go where I want.”

  “You can’t control your dreams,” said Natalie confidently. But it had seemed so real, she thought. Maybe I didn’t have to open that door. Maybe I shouldn’t have.

  “But it doesn’t even matter,” she said out loud.

  “What matters?” asked Jessie.

  “Nothing,” said Natalie. “I have to go.” She walked ahead, crossed a street, then looked back. Jessie was investigating something, looking into a bush in someone’s yard like it might have buried treasure in or something.

  How, wondered Natalie, can she not think about how she looks? That skirt and that sweater. Everyone thinks she’s crazy.

  Natalie had English first (after homeroom, which was just ten minutes), which was fine, because Heidi was in that class and they were practically best friends. Then came science, where they planted onion bulbs in different sorts of soil. Natalie’s soil type was plain old beach sand, so she was pretty sure what the results would be. Then PE, which sucked as usual, then Social Studies. Social Studies also sucked. It should have been fine, because Heidi was in that class too. It should have been even more than fine, because Mr. Meyer split the class into groups for a project and she got matched with Heidi. But it sucked because the third person in their group was Walter. Walter was a freak, even freakier than Jessie. He always had this untamed hair that shot out from his head in random spikes, though today he was wearing a huge black hoodie with the hood pulled up so far his face was almost invisible. The hoodie had a picture of a big yellow smiley face with a bullet hole on the forehead. Under the face it said Have a Nice Day.

  “Ok,” said Natalie, determined to make the project work. “Maybe we need jobs to do for each of us.”

  “I’m a demon,” said Walter. Heidi rolled her eyes; she’d already given up.

  “You’re a seventh grader,” said Natalie. “You can draw, right? You can do the posters. Make an anime George Washington or something.”

  “Sick,” said Walter. Natalie hoped that was good. “Heidi and I can do research in the library.”

  “Mr. Meyer said we all have to research together,” said Heidi with despair. Natalie gave her a Meaningful Look, but Heidi missed it. Yes, Mr. Barnes had said that, but that didn’t mean they really had to do it. Natalie was on her own if she wanted to get the project to work.

  “Walter can come and do his drawings in the library, at the tables, while we research.”

  “Sick,” said Walter.

  “Whatever,” said Heidi.

  “Great,” said Natalie, sensing doom for their presentation. “Then we’re all set.”

  That night she dreamed again.

  It started in the forest, in the snow, just like before. Same dress. Her skin from head to toe was an image of the night, with sparkling golden stars. The boy was there.

  “Follow me,” he said, and she followed.

  The path wound through the trees, the snow crunched, but this time they encountered the weird girl statue in the woods, standing by the side of the path.

  “Did you put her there?” asked Natalie, but the boy just shrugged.

  “Don’t open the door,” said the statue. Its mouth was the weirdest thing: invisible until it was open, like a disappearing hole in the girl’s face.

  “Why not?” asked Natalie.

  “Ignore her,” said the boy.

  “Why should I ignore her?” But they had already passed her by, and Natalie could see the building up ahead. But it’s really just a wall, she thought. A wall full of doors. The boy led her to the steps, up, then past the first door, which was closed again, to the second door. There was another creepy girl there, her hair a bit lighter than the first, her body just the same, except her dress was blue.

  “It’s locked,” said Natalie, after trying to pull the door open. The boy just shrugged. Natalie heard a weird squishy sound, and looked at the statue. Its eyes were closed, but its mouth was open wide. It slowly stuck out a long, red tongue. There was a key on it, moist and shining.

  “Ok,” said Natalie. “That is totally disgusting.” She wasn’t looking at the boy, but she could imagine him shrugging behind her. She gingerly took the key in her fingertips, fitted it in the lock on the door. It turned with a heavy clunk.

  “Don’t open it,” called a voice. Natalie turned. The first creepy girl was there, the pink one, looking up at her from below the balcony.

  So they can move, thought Natalie. Interesting. She grabbed the handle and pulled.

  The door swung open to reveal another snow-covered land, wide and empty: treeless hills of white receding into the distance. Just inside the door something small and purple sparkled in the snow.

  “It’s a gem or something,” said Natalie.

  “It’s a gift,” said the boy.

  “For me?” He nodded. She started to step through the door.

  “Don’t touch it,” said the boy.

  “I thought it was a gift.” But he just shrugged again.

  “You shouldn’t have done that,” called the creepy girl.

  In the morning, there was another doll.

  There on the shelf, beside the first one, was a doll that looked just like the second creepy girl, sitting on her desk as if it had always been there. It was an impossible thing to try to think about: how could statues from your dreams turn into real dolls on your desk? So, Natalie did an odd thing: she didn’t think about it.

  She just kind of forgot. Forgot that either of the dolls were there. Refused to look at them. She got dressed with her back to her desk, and went off to school without a second thought.

  The next night she was back again, in the same spot in the forest, dress and all. She sighed. I wonder, she thought, if maybe this is the first sign of lucid dreaming? Being tired of a dream and wishing it would stop?

  “Follow me, Nightfall,” said the boy.

  “My name is Natalie,” she replied firmly, but she followed him. Crunch crunch crunch went the snow, her feet and the boy’s, but Natalie had the feeling there was someone behind them, and she was right. They were being followed by the second creepy girl; she moved over the snow like a ghost, gliding just above the surface. No feet.

  “We’re being followed,” said Natalie, but the boy just shrugged. That’s annoying, she thought.

  “What’s your name?” she asked, thinking: if he shrugs again I am going to name him Shrug.

  The boy shrugged.

  “Ok, Shrug,” she said. “Why do I have to open the doors all the time?”

  “It’s your job,” he said. “You’re Nightfall. You have to open the doors. You have to bring spring to all the worlds.”

  “Each of those doors is a different world?”

  “You have to bring spring to all of them.”

  “No you don’t!” called a voice. They were passing the first creepy girl again, in her spot by the side of the path. “He’s lying. Don’t open the doors.”

  “Are you l
ying to me?” she asked Shrug.

  “Don’t listen to her,” he said. “She’s done her job. Now you do yours.”

  They came to the wall, went up the steps, walked along the first balcony to the third door. The second creepy girl still followed them. There was a third creepy girl by the door. She had silvery hair, and a dark green body with a white snowflake on it. The door was locked.

  “Oh yuck,” said Natalie, but this time the girl didn’t offer her a sticky wet key.

  The creepy girl opened her eyes. They were gray. “To enter this door,” she said, in a whiny little voice, “you have to answer my riddle.”

  “Oh boy,” said Natalie.

  “Don’t mess up,” said the second creepy girl, behind her, the blue one..

  “Ignore her,” said Shrug. “You have to answer the riddle or you won’t wake up.”

  “Don’t answer!” came the first creepy girl’s voice. She was at the bottom of the stairs, watching.

  “Ok,” said Natalie. “What’s the riddle?”

  The creepy girl closed her eyes and recited: “What is seven plus six?”

  Natalie blinked. “Excuse me?”

  “What is seven plus six?” repeated the girl.

  “What? That’s the riddle?”

  “Just answer it,” said Shrug, but it seemed absurd that such an easy riddle would open a magical door. Natalie counted on her star-spangled fingers, twice, just to be sure she didn’t make a stupid mistake.

  “Um...thirteen?” she said. There was a clunk from somewhere inside the door. Natalie pulled it open, revealing what looked like somewhere at the north or south pole: an expanse of seawater with ice floating on it, with only the thinnest ledge of