The Door

by Lorilyn Roberts

  I crept closer sneaking behind some blueberry bushes. The plump gray donkey with extra-long eyelashes had a brown knapsack beside him. He stuck his head into the bag and rummaged around. The bunny jumped off the rock and onto the blanket. I gawked at the animals.

  The fresh aroma of apples and blueberry aroused my appetite. I tasted a blueberry but it was sour so I spit it out.

  The donkey pulled out a bright red apple with his mouth and chomped down. “Yummy.” He rolled his eyes. “But I only have three left.”

  “You and your apples.” The rabbit licked her fur and wiggled her nose. “Don’t you get tired of eating them?”

  He took another bite. “Do you get tired of cleaning yourself?”

  “Humph! Why would I get tired of that? I like to be pure white.”

  “I feel like that about apples.”

  “You like them to be pure white, too?”

  The donkey twitched his tail. “No, that’s not what I mean. I mean I like to eat them.”

  “How many donkeys eat apples?”

  “How many have you met?”

  The rabbit squinted. She held up her front paw as if indicating one—“Oh, my, a tiny speck of dirt.” She went back to her scrubbing.

  The donkey burped. “Maybe I should save the rest for tomorrow.” He inspected the knapsack and twitched his ears. “I can’t wait.” He took one more and closed his eyes.

  “Cool,” I said, under my breath, giggling quietly—a fat donkey and a silly, talking rabbit.

  The pleasant sound of trickling water reached me and I fell under its spell. I had forgotten about the strange apparitions when out of nowhere a gryphon—half-eagle and half-lion—sky-bombed me. The creature came within inches of my face, lunging at my eyes.

  “Help me!” Falling forwards, I anticipated talon-like claws hooking into my back or head. Why had I worn a dress? I buried my face into my arms and waited, huddled in a ball, too terrified to look up. Nothing happened. When I peeked out, I didn’t see anything but a surprised donkey and startled rabbit staring at me.

  Their curious looks miffed me. They could have done something to scare the creature away. I fumbled for words as I tried to catch my breath. “A strange-looking bird attacked me. It came from that direction. Did you see it?”

  The donkey shook his head. “Did you see anything?”

  The rabbit laughed. “I saw an animal with two legs that rolled along the ground that scared the bejeebers out of me.”

  “Humph.” I gawked at the rabbit who had insulted me. “You had to have seen it,” I exclaimed. “It was large and part of it had legs like a beast and—he almost poked my eyes out, over there.” I pointed to the blueberry bushes where a white dove was preening itself. “He was in my face, over there.”

  The donkey finished chomping on another apple. “Who are you?

  “How is it you can talk? Donkeys can’t talk.”

  The donkey strolled up close to me, almost touching my face with his nostrils.

  I slapped him across the nose, offended. “How rude of you to get so close.” I jumped back. “You’re a smelly donkey at that.”

  “I don’t smell,” the donkey retorted. “And, fortunately, you don’t either.”

  “Of course I don’t smell.”

  “I wanted to see if you smelled like an underling. Besides, you’re too pretty. You must be a princess.”

  “You need to mind your manners.” I wiped my face, even though he hadn’t actually touched me.

  “Heehaw. Who is the visitor here, you or me?” the donkey asked.

  “Oh, whatever.” What was the point of arguing?

  “You don’t smell like an underling. You must be a princess,” the donkey insisted.

  I scoffed. “A princess? What do you know about princesses?”

  “If you’re going to insult me, you can go someplace else.”

  I glared at the donkey who seemed to be doing his best to irritate me. “I didn’t like you being so close to me—and I sure don’t like being smelled. It’s insulting.” I stomped my foot.

  “I wanted to sniff you—to see if you had that stench on you.”

  “I don’t smell.”

  “But the underlings do,” retorted the donkey.

  “What are you talking about?”

  The rabbit wiggled her nose. “You aren’t as pretty when you have a scowl on your face.”

  “What?” I touched my face again as her words sunk in. How could a rabbit make me feel so irritable?

  “I’m not angry,” I yelled back.

  The two of them exchanged glances. “Are you sure she’s not an underling in disguise?” the rabbit asked.

  “An underling? What’s that? And where in the universe am I?”

  The donkey shook himself—like a dog shaking off water— arched his neck and held his head high. He spoke like an orator: “You’re in the king’s garden, where it’s always light and never dark—except when the underlings sneak in and steal what doesn’t belong to them. Beyond the river and the forest is the king’s palace—a mansion on the mountain where you’re always welcomed. Never a stranger has visited the king.”

  “Are you a princess?” the rabbit asked.

  “I’m no princess, though I wish I was.”

  The gullible creatures displayed an innocence that was now disarming. Where on the planet did talking animals exist? Surely, Disney would have discovered them.

  “What are you doing here?” The donkey asked.

  My anger had melted so I told them my strange story, ending with the elusive dog. “She disappeared in an invisible doorway and I can’t find her.”

  “A doorway?” The donkey’s eyes got wide. “I came through a gate guarded by an angel with a flaming sword. I was so afraid, but the king called my name.”

  “Someone called my name, too.”

  “I hope you find your dog, little lady. I haven’t seen one in the garden. We have a brown puppy that comes around to play with Cherios.”

  “My name is Shale,” I corrected. “Not little lady.”

  “Pardon me, but you seem bossy for a girl.”

  I glared at him. “Don’t donkeys say something like heehaw? I’d like you better if you were a normal donkey.”

  “I am normal. But I have a larger vocabulary than heehaw.”

  How could an obstinate, fat donkey with extra-long eyelashes get me so upset? “You’re rude, in case you didn’t know it.”

  The donkey softened his words. “I once had a friend like your dog—sweet and all white, back in the cave at the grand estate of my former master.”

  “And I bet your name is Baruch, huh?” I said sarcastically.

  “Yes, that’s the name the king gave me.”

  I shook my head. “I admit you look like that other donkey in the book—gray with a white belly, and a fat one at that—even the extra-long eyelashes. Of course, I’ve never seen a live donkey. Was the name of your friend Much-Afraid?”

  Baruch eyes lit up. “How did you know?”

  The white bunny wiggled her nose. “Where did you say you’re from? Most of the king’s animals don’t come to our part of the garden. And you seem to know a lot about the king’s animals.”

  “She’s a girl,” corrected Baruch. “Not an animal.”

  “Yes, that’s what I mean. A pretty girl.”

  I did a slight curtsy and then sat on a flat rock. All the similarities to my favorite book when I was young seemed more than strange—an outlandish tale of fantasy and mystique. I shook my head—was I dreaming. There must be an explanation. I put my hand on my chest. My heart was beating. I blew on my hand and cool air hit my palm. I was alive. How could all of these strange things be happening?

  The rabbit hopped up beside me holding a white flower in her mouth. She had pulled it off her bonnet.

  “Is this for me?” I gently took the flower out of the rabbit’s mouth.

  “Your present,” the rabbit said.

  I blew on the blossom, and the petals, ca
rried along by the breeze, floated away. “Thank you.” I scratched her behind the ear.

  “Cherios.” She pointed to her white fluffy chest. “I’m a garden bunny.”

  I patted her head and she planted a kiss on my cheek.

  Baruch stomped his hind legs. “Why can she kiss you and I can’t even get close to you?”

  “Because she’s a cute rabbit.”

  Baruch showed his white teeth in a pretentious smile.

  “Besides, you’re a male—go find a female donkey.”

  Baruch hung his head apologetically. “I want you to like me.”

  “Well, I do like you. I just—I grew up in the city. I’m not used to being around donkeys.”

  Neither one of us said anything for a minute—we had gotten off to a bad start.

  Baruch changed the subject. “Tell me more about that book with the donkey.”

  I shrugged. “One day I found it on my bookshelf. Mother never bought me books because we didn’t have any money.”

  Baruch’s lopsided ears perked up. “Keep going.”

  “You ran away—sort of like me—and met a powerful king.”

  “And—”

  An imminent coughing attack tickled my throat. “I’m thirsty. Can we get some water? And then I’ll tell you the rest.”

  We meandered through tropical ferns and shady plants and water oaks with delicate moss gracing the branches. The winding trail opened up to a clearing that led to a sandy beach bordering a luminescent river. Water lilies floated in the middle where lazy turtles had fallen asleep on a log that stretched across to the other side. They plopped into the river as we approached. The ripples spread out to the water’s edge and lapped the sandy beach. I peered at my reflection.

  “What’s wrong?” Baruch asked.

  “Nothing, but my hair is a tangled mess.” I lifted the long strands over my head and rolled them into a bun. Then I caught movement among the tree canopy. Several dozen crows had gathered—spooky-like because there were so many. I couldn’t ignore their loud, irritating cackles.

  Baruch squinted and blinked his long eyelashes several times. “The crows have returned.”

  “Oh, dear, oh, dear.” Cherios hopped about in a circle, wringing her paws. “I don’t like it when the crows return.”

  Chapter Six

  Banished From the Garden

  What could be so bad about a few cackling crows? And why, out of all days, did I wear a dress? I couldn’t swim with it on and I wasn’t going to take it off. I glanced at Baruch—a male donkey, and a talking one. So tempting, but no, I wasn’t going to swim in my underclothes.

  I slipped off my shoes and lifted up my dress above my knees. After tiptoeing to the water’s edge, I stepped into the cool river. I waded out a few feet before the water came up to my knees. Golden rocks covered the river bottom and dazzled in the sun—like an enchanted pool. I started to pick up one but then remembered the flower stem that turned into a snake. My fear returned.

  More crows gathered but they had become quiet. Dozens sat in the trees. “Is that their rookery?” I asked.

  Baruch shook his head. “We never have any crows here—except when we’re invaded by the underlings.”

  I was enjoying the water too much to worry about underlings. After a few minutes, I got out and climbed up on a flat rock. As I lay on my stomach, I dangled my arms out over the river’s edge. A blue bird darted up in front of me and danced over the water. “She’s so cute,” I said, fascinated by the small-winged creature.

  “They are terrible,” Baruch said. “Not the bird, I mean the underlings. Most of the time, they don’t have real bodies, they shape shift, though they look similar to large black bats. The acrid stench always precedes their appearance. I smell them coming now.”

  “I don’t smell anything,” I said, absentmindedly.

  “There’s the cackling again,” Cherios said. She nervously twitched her ear to one side.

  Which was cuter, the bird or the bunny? The tiny creature moved its wings like a hummingbird, though it was slightly bigger. After a few minutes of graceful gyrations, the bird landed on my shoulder and whispered, “I’m Nevaeh. You are a daughter of the king.” Then the winged creature flew away.

  Why did it tell me that?

  I scooted forward. Cupping my hands, I gulped several sips of water.

  The golden rocks glittered on the bottom casting a golden reflection on the surface, but the sun’s rays immersed the river in a shimmering white light. I couldn’t resist. I reached down and tentatively picked up one of the nuggets. Nothing happened. As I turned it over in my hand, I commented, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say this is gold.”

  “Take as many as you want,” Baruch replied, “But hurry.”

  The trees creaked as the wind picked up. Overhead, more crows circled.

  Baruch turned to me, “We better hurry to find cover. I smell the underlings.”

  I slid off the rock and tried to put the golden nugget in my pocket, but the egg was in the way. I set the rock on the grass. When I pulled out the egg, I opened it to make sure the bunnies were still there.

  Cherios hopped over to look. “Oh, they are so cute. It must have been a very unusual chicken to lay that egg.”

  I laughed. “It’s not real, though I wish the rabbits inside weren’t broken.”

  “I didn’t know chickens have bunnies in their eggs.” Cherios nudged closer to me to see.

  “No, you’ve got it all wrong. The artist sculptured the egg to hold the bunnies inside.”

  Cherios still looked baffled. “If you ever decide you don’t want the egg and the rabbits, will you give them to me?”

  I nodded.

  Baruch brought over another golden nugget in his mouth and plopped it on the ground. “If you want it, you can put that in my knapsack since your pocket is full. And how about that white pearl over there? But we must hurry away from the water. That is the entrance to the garden for the underlings.”

  “Sure.” The knapsack was too full with Baruch’s apples so I didn’t pick up any more. What a shame to leave them if they were worth something.

  Where was I, talking to prissy rabbits and bossy donkeys? Unbeknownst to me, the dark magic grew. Floating over the river, an ominous cloud approached. When I turned and saw it, fear swept over me. A misty fog seeped from the pea soup and overflowed the river’s banks. The garden shimmied and quaked; the mist spread in all directions and lightning bolts started striking the ground. The bolts splintered the trees and limbs fell around us. My eyes burned from the acrid smell and I grabbed Baruch’s mane, trying to cover my face. The sweeping murkiness was like a glove that groped everything in its path.

  Shadows crept into the hidden pockets and tiny crannies and scampering animals rustled through the leaves. The garden suddenly became quiet. Then Baruch leapfrogged over a clump of rocks, knocking me backwards.

  “Wait for me,” I cried. Baruch paid me no attention. I shouted louder, “I want to go back. Get my shoes.”

  Baruch scowled, “You get them yourself.”

  Me? I bolted over to grab them. Seeing Baruch’s knapsack, I scooped it up along with the blanket. I ran back and dumped everything beside the panicked animal.

  Cherios panted heavily as she hopped over to catch up. “Baruch, you’re stepping on me,” she said shrilly.

  “You’re under me,” Baruch complained.

  “I’m hiding,” she said, as if under his belly was a good place to hide.

  I wanted to put Cherios on Baruch’s back, but I needed to drape the blanket on him first. I slipped on my shoes—yuck. They were coated with wet sand.

  I couldn’t stop shaking, though I wasn’t sure if it was because I was cold or because I was scared. Fighting the wind, I got the blanket to stay on Baruch’s back long enough to put Cherios on it, but when I went to pick her up, I couldn’t find her. Where did she go?

  The howling wind knocked more limbs to the ground. I climbed on Baruch’s back. “Take me to
the door, I want to go home.”

  “Grab my knapsack,” Baruch said, “and hold it for me.”

  “I don’t care about your knapsack. Let’s go.”

  “Not without my apples.”

  “We’re going to die—go.” The stubborn donkey wouldn’t move. I slid down and grabbed the bag, which seemed unusually heavy. “What do you have in this thing?” I hollered.

  Baruch stomped his hindquarters. “Hee-haw. Hurry,” he rasped.

  “Okay, okay. I am.” I tied the knapsack around his neck, and climbed back onto his back. The wet blanket was cold underneath me.

  “Don’t fall off,” Baruch hollered.

  “Do you see Cherios anywhere?” Then I saw her bonnet flattened in the wet sand. My heart sank.

  A rancid odor turned my stomach and I started breathing through my mouth. If we stayed to hunt her down, we wouldn’t make it back.

  Every living thing had vanished. Some headed into the woods—maybe they knew a shortcut— others took the path like us to the grassy knoll.

  “Cherios?” I called. Perhaps she hadn’t waited for us.

  Baruch bolted up the trail as I struggled to keep from falling. I had never ridden on a donkey and it was nothing like a horse. Not that I had ridden on a horse either, except at camp with a handler walking beside me.

  I looked back and saw the mysterious cloud from the river following us—chasing us from the king’s garden. The blob was thick and impenetrable and acted as if it were alive. It was no ordinary cloud. The pursuit left me breathless and terrified.

  As we neared the grassy knoll, the door of escape reappeared. A vortex of swirling, distorted images faded in and out. I searched for Cherios, but the shifting cloud crept closer.

  “Baruch, what should we do?”

  The donkey ignored me. I clung to his back as he leaped into the portal. The once magical garden faded behind us. We passed through shadows eclipsed by stars on a moonlit night, arriving at a garden unfamiliar to me but not to Baruch.

  Chapter Seven

  Surprises