Writing Without the Me #14
Exercise #38 The Door in the Wall
Here we go— another entry in this year-long project! In this prompt Joselow asks us to imagine a magic door, then describe it and what lies behind it.
The door does not look like a door. The door is a secret door. The door is a poster frame, set in a door frame that’s hidden in the wall. Inside the frame (inside the door frame) is a poster. It does not look like a door even as our hand gently pulls on the right side of the poster frame, even as it clicks open, even as it swings toward us.
It looks nothing like this.
Before we go inside, we note the poster is strange. It looks like an ad for antidepressants mixed with an ad for a live show or possibly a movie that is about the mental health issues of a performer. From the top down we see a light blue sky populated with cotton ball clouds. A copse of ancient trees with magnificent faces peering from the bark of their trunks sits atop a gently sloped hill covered in thick grass and wildflowers. A diagonal line runs from the bottom left corner up to the top right. Below the line is an entirely different scene. It’s a small theater. Our vantage point is from the wings. We can see the entire stage and most of the seating too. On the stage is a microphone in a stand. The spotlight is on but the venue is empty.
And on that line, as if walking on a tightrope, we see a red-headed figure from above. Her face is hidden (but it’s me!) and she’s wearing a long flowy garment. It could be a half-decade-old cardigan with a quirky pattern picked up at Community Thrift or it could be the heavy robes of a fantastical sorceress stitched with arcane symbols
The door opens to a wooden landing. It looks like one of those tacked-on fire escapes seen in buildings of a certain age. It is summer evening on the fire escape. It is warm and there is a cooler filled with drinks on the floor and a sporadically cared for potted plant on one railing and an ashtray on another. There are lights in the distance but we’re all turned around and can’t tell which part of the city this is. We are at one of a hundred thousand thousand house parties. And here’s the fun part. If we go down the stairs it will open up into a comedy club. The audience is always warm but still fresh. They’re a smart audience. Buzzed a little, maybe, but not drunk. There are spots available, but hey, no pressure if we just want to watch.
If we go upstairs it opens up into, yeah, that beautiful hill. The trees are like a council of Elders, but so much that the Tolkein estate would be upset. They are magical creatures and are always more than happy to chat. They’ll dish with us about the latest happenings in the forest. But they’re also trees so they’re great to lean against while we read our books and enjoy the view. And they don’t mind a bit. Because they’re trees.
This prompt led to somewhat feels like pretty bare-bones writing. I think it’s partly because I spent too much time introspecting about what I would want on the other side of the door (and what those wants mean, whether or not I want the right things, etc). And partly because I got embarrassed with the painfully obvious wish fulfillment going on in my fictive writing.
Anyway, what would you have a secret door in your home lead to? Hmmm?
