Short Fiction: The Door

I hope you enjoy reading this short fiction I wrote earlier today. Rough draft only, but I’m pretty pleased with it. It’s good to get into this side of my brain.


The Door

Claire paced nervously back and forth as she waited for him to pick up the phone. Ring, ring, ring. She knew he wasn’t busy. He was at work but he never did a whole lot of real work anyways, so why was it taking him so long to pick up?

Image Credit: Oliver Ottner at

Image Credit: Oliver Ottner at

His voice cut in abruptly. “What do you want this time? I’m busy, make it quick.”

Hello to you too. She thought. Why couldn’t he ever say, ‘Hello sweetie,’ or ‘How’s my darling?’ or she would even settle for just a plain hello and sounding actually excited to talk to her. “Ummm, I don’t know how to explain this but the house is . . . ummm . . .the house is gone.”

“Is this some kind of joke? You wasted my time with this? You’re an idiot and a moron if you think I’m finding this funny. I ought to have you checked for mental problems. Hello doctor, my wife needs to -”

Claire hung up on him. She wasn’t going to stand there and listen to him berate her like that. She couldn’t deny what her eyes were seeing in front of her – there were their front steps, there was their front door, but that was it. There was nothing else remaining. It didn’t seem possible. She sat down on the steps and leaned against the door. Where were they going to live? What happened to their house? She didn’t even know the first place to begin. What was she going to do, call the police and say ‘Hi, I think somebody stole my house. No, not all of it, the front door is still here.’ They would probably laugh her out of the police station even faster than Ian had laid into her.

The door unlatched as she was leaning on it and she felt a cool breeze. Except it was the middle of July. In Texas. She turned around and when she looked in the door, she saw a stream and a waterfall, pristine and untouched. There was green grass and flowers of every color. Butterflies flitted around.

She closed the door. How? What? She walked around the door. It wasn’t connected to anything. But then?

She opened the door again. A feeling of peace washed over her when she saw that scene. She wanted to dip her toes in the water, smell the flowers, lay in the grass and close her eyes.

She walked through the door and it closed behind her. With that, the door vanished.

Her cell phone lay on the ground where the house and the door once stood and it began to ring.

The caller ID said Ian.

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