[RiddleRose]: 298.Contest Entries.Vortex

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Created:
2007-02-07 02:03:06
Keywords:
Genre:
Magical Realism/Paranormal
Style:
short story
License:
Free for reading
Vortex

Lisa looked at the little creature with an expression of undisguised horror. “And what do we do with it? Do we tell everyone else on the station? Or keep it a secret?”

Sophie grimaced, she hadn't thought of that. “Um... I think we should keep it a secret. Remember, these are scientists here. They might want to cut it open and examine it or something!” She shivered at the thought of it. Already she liked this strange little creature.

Suddenly Lisa gave a yell, “HEY! That little beast is eating my chocolate! Get away from that you!” She swatted it lightly away from the bar of cocoa. It chattered at her, but allowed itself to be moved. Her expression softened a little as it's tone changed, clearly scolding. She cracked a grin as it tried to catch her swinging braid. She started laughing when it got it's head stuck in an empty mug, and she gently extricated it and placed it, upright and mug-less, on the desk. 

“Well, I suppose we should find it a hiding place,” said Lisa, practical as always, “My closet is bigger than yours, let's try it in there.”

“Okay,” Sophie agreed. It was true, as a more experienced and vital member of the team, Lisa had much roomier rooms than she. She carefully picked up the tiny Dragta, which immediately started chewing on the button of her shirt. She laughed, and followed Lisa to her rooms.

True to form, they were a complete mess. There were books everywhere, on the bed, on the floor, on the small table, balanced precariously in piles in, on, and around the bookcase that took up an entire wall, and even stacked on makeshift shelves that Lisa had apparently nailed to the wall. The room was painted dark green, and somehow managed to remind Sophie of a forest, albeit a forest full of books. 

Lisa waded her way across the room and pushed aside a green curtain, revealing a closet that was a true marvel. There were stacks and piles of stuff, stuff of every variety and species. There were clothes, there were books, there were picture albums, there were pieces of coral, there were shoeboxes overflowing with shells and driftwood. There were candles, and incense, and what looked like a carnival mask. There was a suitcase full of what appeared to be large chunks of chocolate, small morsels of chocolate, heavy bars of chocolate, and a liberal sprinkling of chocolate chips, all of the finest quality dark semi-sweet Belgian cocoa. Sophie's eyes bulged at the sight of it, and Lisa coloured slightly. “I like chocolate,” she said defensively. 

“Well,” Sophie said, “your closet may be bigger, but it is also messier. We need to dig this place out. You wouldn't happen to have a backhoe anywhere, would you?” she grinned impishly.

Lisa scratched her head. “I don't think so... but then again, you never know what might be hiding in there!” They both laughed, and the Dragta trilled along with them. Sophie found a large basket and emptied it of it's load of books. She lined it with a soft flannel blanket and put the Dragta in it. It settled down, closed it's eyes, and fell asleep.

An hour later, the Dragta was still asleep, and Sophie and Lisa were still digging. They hadn't come across the floor of the closet yet, but they were expecting it any minute now. They had so far unearthed a collection of animal skulls, bleached white and mounted on wooden stands, a box which refused to open, a small chest full of Lisa's deceased grandmother's valuable jewelry, a packet of old letters tied with a crumbling red ribbon, (“Love letters to my mother from my father,” said Lisa), and numerous silk scarves. (“I collect them,” Lisa explained).

There had been things that dropped menacingly from the shelves to attack unsuspecting heads from above, things that popped out of corners, things that sang at them in tinny voices, things that threatened to strangle them, and even an old-fashioned ball gown that tried to put itself on Sophie, but gave up when she hit it with a tennis racket. 

Finally, after almost two hours, everything had been removed. The floor of the closet looked at them innocently, covered with a soft brown rug, and showing no remorse at the way in which it had hidden from them for so long. Covered in dust, chocolate, and success, Lisa and Sophie vacuumed it thoroughly with great glee. But the closet was not quite defeated yet. Somehow it had managed to hide one thing from their cleaning frenzy. A small wooden box, intricately carved and inlaid here and there with softly gleaming gold lay quietly in a corner. It looked very very harmless.

“Do you think we should touch it?” whispered Sophie, wise to the closet's tricks by now.

“Don't know,” whispered Lisa back, “It doesn't look all that dangerous...”

“Neither did the goblet,” retorted Sophie.

“Ow, yeah, you're right,” said Lisa wincing, and gingerly touching the dark bruise on her cheekbone. The battle with the antique crystal goblet had been one of epic proportions, and had only ended when Sophie slammed a pillowcase over it.

“So,” said Lisa nervously. Then she appeared to gather her nerve. She pounced bravely upon the little wooden box, which promptly did exactly what most boxes do when one pounces upon them: absolutely nothing. “Well that was anticlimactic,” remarked Lisa disappointedly, emerging from the closet with the box in her hand, “let's see what's inside.”

She fiddled with the catch for a moment, then flipped the lid open. The box was lined with red velvet, and seemed to contain only a small mirror in a frame that was carved like the box. Then lights began to appear deep inside of it. They burst out of the mirror, then out of the box, swirling purples and grays, with flecks of black spun into the depths of the closet, where they lit up the inside. Purple lightnings, so bright they left afterimages on Sophie's eyelids when she closed them, flickered and danced. Lisa and Sophie both skipped backward in alarm.

Seemingly at random, bolts of purple lightning flashed out of the closet, targeting stray socks, pens, a pack of tarot cards, and a hair scrunchie. What the lightning touched disappeared without fuss, silently sucked into the swirling light that had taken up residence in the closet. Almost as an afterthought it seemed, an especially large bolt hit the little Dragta, and, with a squawk, it was pulled into the closet, disappearing, basket and all. Then abruptly the lightnings stopped, the lights stopped, and it all was sucked back into the mirror.

Sophie was the first to move. She rushed to the box, pulled the mirror out, and exclaimed when it suddenly grew to become a full-length one. She looked into it and exclaimed again. Instead of her reflection, the mirror showed a picture of... well, it looked like an immense mountain of mismatched socks. She touched the right side of the frame, and the picture moved to the right. It showed another mountain of pens and pencils. She touched the top of the frame, and it moved up, showing a valley full to the brim with glittering jewelry. She moved the picture around in fascination, showing ties, shoes, underwear, silverware, CDs, address books, memos, puzzle pieces, and cell phones. Then she gasped. In the middle of an ocean of golf balls sat the Dragta, in its basket, looking very confused. 

Lisa suddenly gave a shriek. She had been looking over Sophie's shoulder, and now she shouted excitedly, “That's the golf ball my dad gave me when I was ten! Look! Right there! He signed it for me, see?”

Sophie goggled, “You can tell one golf ball from... never mind. What's it doing there?”

“I don't know, I lost it a few years back. I'd put it in my closet...” She trailed off.

“Lisa,” said Sophie, “um, have you ever lost anything else in your closet?”

Lisa panned the picture around until she found a river of flowing silk scarves. Mutely, she pointed out three that had belonged to her. There was even one with her name monogrammed onto it in gold thread.

“Lisa,” said Sophie again, “I think that thing is the reason you lose things. I bet they find their way into houses all over the world, take things from bedside tables, closets, under beds... I bet they're the beginning of the whole “monster under my bed” thing. Some kids have them and some don't. Sometimes it's a monster in the closet... or maybe it's just that all lost items go here. To this weird place. The mirror must be a portal!”

She touched it, and her hand went through. She reached down, grabbed one of Lisa's scarves, and pulled it out.

After a stunned moment Lisa said, “Well, I guess we found a hiding place for the Dragta!”


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