There is a cement couch in the unfinished basement of a cement house. Said couch was not there when the family moved in, it just showed up one morning. Baby Girl walked down the creaky wooden stairs to find Cat and take him back to bed. Much to her surprise there he was, lounging on the back of a couch she'd never seen. Wearily she tip-toed over, anxious, as though the couch would suddenly spring up and eat her whole. She called to Cat from a few feet back, but he simply stared at her as all cats are wont to do. Resignedly she stepped closer and scooped up Cat in her arms - and nearly dropped him in the process. Clutched close to her, Cat purred gently into the throat as Baby Girl reached out a tentative hand to fee the couch. It felt hard, rough, and slightly porous beneath her fingers just like it had against her arm when she'd grabbed Cat. "This couch," she mused, "is made of sidewalk!" And of course, no bit of sidewalk anywhere had ever wronged her, so she kissed Cat between the ears and gave the couch one last look before yawning and making her way sleepily up the stairs back to bed. As she drifted off to sleep, the couch flickered, blinked, Cat meowled, Baby Girl dropped off, and the couch disappeared.
Labels: cat, couch, dreams, girl, prose, surreal
Somewhere, there is a door which leads to nowhere. It isn't on the side of a house opening up into thin air, or cemented into the side of a building in front of some bricks. No, it is nowhere leading, to more nowhere.
I bet you know where the door is. I bet you think about it all the time and never even realise you're thinking about it.
That's probably for the best, really, because opening up a door to nowhere could be very dangerous. In fact, it could be downright stupid, and yet there you are, flirting with danger. You think about it without really thinking about it, dancing back and forth across the line of whether or not it's real. Oh it's very real I'll tell you that, but don't think about it, because thinking about its reality would mean opening it, and who wants to open a door which leads to nothing?
In the end though, the door is always opened. It's always there, teasing. You can't not open it, because it's not alone. And leaving one door closed means opening another.
Labels: choices, decisions, door, fear, nothing, prose
