The Girl Who Could Draw Doors

Funnily enough I never drew doors myself when I painted, as if I thought it would take the focus off my subject, that others would be as entranced by them as I was. So, all my paintings depicted the outdoors or a doorless background. This strange little avoidance behaviour had even come to the attention of my Art Teacher, but what could I say? Some people are just weird.

The day so far had had little to recommend it, my painting was going terribly, it didn’t help that my brushes had been rescued form the incinerator of an old Art Centre nearby. As a consequence they were all matted and hard as rock, with stains of old paint all over them. Just as I was dabbing a lovely green upon the trees I had outlined on the canvas, and old red stain on my brush came to life and the streaks of red turned the leaves a musty brown gray. The forest looked as if it was a victim of acid rain and I tossed my brush down, annoyed.

There was nothing left to do but wait until the painting dried and try to salvage it, I often had paintings ruined by old stains that returned from the dead and streaked unwanted colour all over the place.

I went over to my desk, staring at the blank piece of paper before me, which I was hoping to use as a draft for the big art project due in a few weeks time. I had been painting the forest in an attempt to clear my mind, but perhaps that wasn’t such a god idea, my brain was empty enough as it is.

My mind wandered to the thoughts of exotic destinations, the Whitsunday’s’, The Great Barrier Reef and so forth, trapped at school as I was…

I didn’t even know if I would pass this year, late as I was to arrive anywhere, if ONLY I could always get to school on time!

It was with those thoughts whirling about in my head that I picked up my pencil and started to sketch a door, wondering what we lay behind it if only I could open it…

It was much of a door that I drew, it was rather lopsided and the door knob of it was way too large, but all the same I sat there for quite a while just wondering, just wishing I could look on the other side.

At first I thought it was a trick of twilight, I had not yet turned on the light, so maybe it was the way I was squinting. When I turned on the light there was not change it still appeared as if there was a slit running along the door, as if someone had cut into the paper.

Reaching out I poked at the drawn door, shocked at how hard it seemed, the paper was lying on a wood desk, but it still felt as if the paper was much thicker and solid. The slit widened and curiously I laid my entire hand upon the page and pushed, expecting nothing much to happen at all.

The door swung open.

Leaping to my feet, sending the desk chair rolling violently across the room, I rubbed my glasses on my T-shirt, blinking my eyes hard, this had to be a case of overwork. Or perhaps I had finally discovered the secret of working those Magic Eye puzzles.

Putting my glasses back on I returned my gaze back to the paper, expecting everything to be quite normal the door merely a one-dimensional object.

It was not.

The door was opening in the paper, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing, leaning forward I blinked again, but it was still there. The trees, the calls of birds, the sound of running water. It was a forest! A forest…right in front of me. On the other side of the page.

Grabbing a hold of the desk chair, dragging it back and getting as close as I could to the paper, bending all the way down. The desk stopped my cheeks but my nose just cleared the bottom of the door and I could feel the wind, the moisture in the air. I reeled back, then reached out my hand, the door was big enough for it to fit through and fit through it did!

My hand touched leaves, real leaves. Reaching further still I felt the bark of the branches, it was then I felt something running over my hand and with a shriek I pulled it back, worried that I was about to be devoured by…well some horrible thing.

It took me a few seconds to recover my wits, when I did; I picked up the paper only to find the rainforest had disappeared, the door was back again. I let the paper go and it fluttered to the floor, but the rainforest did not appear again, even when I bent down and pushed at it, this time the paper was pliable beneath my finger.

Seized by an inspiration, I grabbed the pencil again; quite glad my parents weren’t home because I was about to break one of their biggest rules.

Pressing the pencil tip to the bottom of the wall, I drew up, up stretching my arm wide and over my head the rough and uneven line going across the wall and then back down the wall to the carpet again. Then I drew a knob and stepped back, hoping it looked enough like a door to work.

Stepping back I pushed hard on the door, and it swung open, revealing something that shocked me even more! In front of me was my family’s living room! But it wasn’t the living room of the house I lived in now. It was the living room of the house I lived in twelve years ago! The house that was a refugee from the 1970’s with the olive green striped couch, the little TV and shag carpeting.

Quickly looking over my shoulder I saw the door back into my own room, I didn’t want to get out of sight of that door though, what if the same thing happened as happened to the piece of paper?

So keeping my eye on the door opening I crept across the room to the door that I was sure led into the kitchen. The kitchen with the brown and orange colour scheme and that weird old-fashioned fridge with curved sides. On it were old drawings and a calendar twelve years old! The thing was none of it looked old.

It was impossible…but I had stepped back in time.

Before I had anymore time to think about the absurdity of that I heard a door open and the sounds of voices. Whirling about towards the other kitchen door, the one that led up the hallway to the front of the house I saw a group of people, two adults, three children. ‘My parents!’ I thought in horror. ‘With ME!’

Running from the kitchen almost slipping over on the tiles, I dashed into the living room, fearful that the door had disappeared and I would stuck here forever, and caught sneaking around by my parents.

The door was there, and I all but threw myself through it as the voices came closer, and turning back I saw it was still open! Any second now they would be able to see through, right through into the future! Desperately, I looked around, but the door was more like a portal, there was nothing to close! Pushing against the walls on either side of the door I tried to make it shut, nothing happened.

Cursing in horror, turning around I threw myself towards my desk and grabbed up my eraser.

"Penelope!" I heard my mother’s voice. "Stop pulling your brother’s hair!"

"He started it!"

Jumping back to the wall, I desperately started rubbing at the rough pencil-drawn lines and slowly but surely the door started to disappear. I could still hear what was going on in my family’s kitchen, luckily though; everyone distracted and shouting at everybody else. I could have kissed my younger self for, as always, being able to divert everyone’s attention from the task at hand. Even though my arm was aching I didn’t slow down, the voices from the past becoming fainter and fainter until finally the disappeared all together.

Sighing with relief I sank back down on the floor and wiped my sweating brown, that had been a close one. For a few moments I stayed where I was, staring at the pencil and wondering if I dared to draw another door. What if I ended up face to face with myself thirty years in the future? What if opened the door into a war zone and someone threw a bomb through and…

All the same, how could I not try again? I could draw doors not only to other places, but other times. I could go to 19^th Century England and see how Jane Austen really lived. I could go to the Renaissance and see some of them greatest painters of all time at work. I could get to places on time. All I’d ever have to do is draw a door to go wherever I needed to go…

My thoughts came to an abrupt halt and I realised something- I couldn’t just draw a door and step through to where I wanted, I mean it seemed perfectly random how had I opened a door onto a rainforest or at my parents past house?

Frowning, I thought back maybe it wasn’t so random after all…hadn’t I been painting a rain forest when I drew the door that first time? And hadn’t I thought about my parents’ old ‘No drawing on the walls’ rule before I drew the door into my parents living room, twelve years ago, when I had gotten into trouble for drawing all over the walls in a fit of anger?

Smiling, I remembered how fun it would be to go somewhere tropical. Why waste any time? I drew a door, imagining the surf and the golden beaches and all the letters I would write home and then I pushed the door open.

I was confronted by blackness, complete and total darkness.

Not only that, but only half the door had opened! This dark view came only up to the bottom of my neck.

Confused I leaned forward wondering what this was all about, had it not worked? Had my mind gone blank the last minute before I drew the door and now it had opened out into an abyss? Carefully, I took a step through, my bare foot landing on something soft and papery, curiously I moved my other leg and crouching down went under the door and reached out one hand.

"OUCH!"

My hand banged against something very hard, only a few centimetres in front of me. I looked around this very dark place, wondering why no light from my room filtered through to…wherever I was.

I heard a loud noise above me, like a metal door opening up and above my head I thought I saw twilight filtering through a small crack. But almost immediately it disappeared and something fluttered down and landed on my head. I reached up and felt the sharp corners of paper and rectangular shape…a letter!

I’m in a POSTBOX?!

Stunned I fall back, only just missing my head on the top of the door and landing painfully on my butt.

In my hand I clutched the letter, which was unpostmarked and addressed with a name I didn’t know. Reaching out with my other hand through the door I picked up another papery rectangular shape just to make sure I wasn’t imagining it.

It was another letter to someone I didn’t know- how had I ended up in a postbox? I thrust the letters back through the door and rubbed it back out again. After all it was nearly six o’clock and any moment the mail would be picked up, it would be a bit difficult to explain that one, even to a mailman.

Deciding the best thing to do was practice I drew door after door on a pieced of paper, opening it into all sorts of places: The post office, a town I used to live in. I toyed with the idea of going to the tropics and getting it right, but how could I? School was still in and my project was due soon, nope far better I drew a door into one of the bathrooms at school, it would cut my travel time down by fifteen minutes. Sure it was boring, but it was practical.

I better make sure I was doing it right, I put my shoes on first, there was no way I was going into a bathroom without proper footwear. That taken care of my mind fixed firmly on the bathroom and the future of my travelling. I drew the door and stepped through.

On the other side of the door I was momentarily blinded by a bright light, geeze I didn’t realise the lights in the bathroom were so damn bright, I had to blink for at least a minute before everything came into focus.

"Who are you?! What are you doing here?" A loud and definitely male voice demanded.

What a stupid thing to do, ending up in a male bathroom!

Suddenly, I was grabbed roughly by the arms and dragged along.

"Hey! Wait a second, this is a mistake! I didn’t mean to come here! Give me a break! Let go of me!"

They kept on dragging me and I kept on struggling, these guys were totally out of control, I wish I wasn’t such a wimp so I could get free of them!

Finally the dragging stopped and the next thing I knew I was being unceremoniously tossed through a doorway.

"Ouch! Thanks a lot!"

There was no answer, only a whisper of air as if one of those sliding doors were closing, I looked over my shoulder, gasping.

I was lying on cold steel tiles and in front of me was a shiny metal door. Yet again, I leapt to my feet and rushed forward to the door and searched aimlessly on I for a knob or some sort of release.

When pushing against it didn’t help I started to bang on it, shouting to be let out.

"If this some sort of joke, it’s not funny! Let me out of here!" I screamed at the top of my lungs.

But no amount of yelling and banging would open the damn door, I stepped back and looked around the room there were no windows.

"I’m trapped!" I muttered aloud.

Or was I?

As soon as I had said the words I realised I couldn’t be trapped; I could draw doors to wherever I wanted!

Quickly, I started hunting for my pencil, I checked my pockets my stomach dropping, and it wasn’t there!

There was just one problem with this talent of mine, without something to draw with I was stuck.

Burying my head in my hands I sank to the floor. Why hadn’t I looked before I leaped? I had no idea were I was, but one thing was certain I wasn’t at the High School. I had been so stupidly certain of myself that I had stepped right into this. I could die here! What if I was killed or tortured? No one knew where I was or even where I was.

Some time later, it could have been hours, there was a sound beyond the metal door in the time that had passed I had time to think of the horrors that could befall me and I quickly crawled as far away from the door as possible.

It slid open, revealing a strangely dressed man, he looked like some Sci-Fi Conventioneer dressed all in silver. I blinked at him and though perhaps this was a joke, or maybe I was dreaming the whole thing, my father always told me I watched far too much television.

"Hello."

Well, at least he sounded normal enough; not like he was computer generated or had a head full of circuits.

"H-hello?"

"My name is Selyton," the man replied, "I have been sent her to interview you."
"Interview me? What, have I broken the law or something?"

"I can’t say, that’s not my department, but we have confined you here for other reasons. Your state of dress is quite incorrect, the colours are completely contraband."

I blinked at him as if he were speaking in Swahili, contraband? Since when have there been laws about what colours to wear?

The man Selyton took out something that looked like a tiny floppy disk.

"Name?"

"Uh…don’t I get a lawyer?"

"A lawyer?" Selyton gave me a confused look, as I was the one speaking some kind of nonsense. "I don’t think so, that’s quite an archaic term."

Archaic? Where the Hell was, what time was I in?

I decided that it was best that I answer the questions.

"My name is Penelope Jones."

"Jones? How unusual."

Unusual? Ok, whatever.

"Residential zone?"

"Uh…you know, I can’t really say.

Selyton gave me a quizzical look. "I’m afraid I don’t understand."

"Er…I’m not from around here…so I don’t have a residential zone."

"I see," Selyton muttered, then from some hidden pocket he pulled something out, something thin.

"My pencil!" I cried, leaping to my feet.

"I’m sorry?"

"You have my pencil!"

"What exactly is a pen-cil?"

"THAT!" I demanded pointing at his hand.

"I see and what is this device used for? Is it dangerous? A weapon?"

"No, it’s to draw and write things."

"Draw? Write? Those terms I am quite unfamiliar with," his eyes narrowed slightly at me and he looked as if he was trying to remember something. "Although I do seem to remember that they were mentioned in History."

"History? You mean you don’t write or draw anything?"

"I have never done anything of the sort and I must remind you that it is I who are asking the questions." Selyton seemed quite offended and he returned the pencil to wherever he had gotten it from.

"Wait! That’s not dangerous…can’t I have it back?"

"I don’t think so, Miss…Jones, you have been apprehended her under suspicious circumstances, these clothes of yours and this pen-cil thing and you are using phrases that I guess to be nearly two hundred years old!"

"Two hundred years!" I gasped.

Selyton didn’t answer and went on. "So no residential zone, a strange name and I suppose you don’t have a Security Passcard."

"No, I don’t, I told you I’m not from around here! At all."

"Then where are you from, Miss. Jones?"

"A place where there are lawyers and pencils!" I burst out annoyed. Selyton wasn’t exactly the threatening sort and I decided that enough was enough.

"I know of no such place, Miss" having said that in a no nonsense voice he started towards me.

I took a big step back and ended up against the wall. "What are you doing?!"

"I have to take your prints."

"My prints? What do you need those for?"

"To identify you properly, Miss."

"Isn’t that an invasion of privacy?"

"Of privacy? Evidently Miss you have some strange ideas, it’s quite possible you have escaped from the hospital."

"The hospital?!"

"Yes," Selyton didn’t mince words and grabbing a hold of my arm roughly he all but forced my finger onto that strange little device he was holding.

"Hey! Let go of me!"

He did do so, but not before that strange metallic thing had made a beeping noise.

"Thank you, Miss," Selyton said heading back to the door and with one last queer look back it me and stepped back out the door, which whooshed closed behind him.

"Well, isn’t this just GREAT," I sighed, staring at the cold start walls around me wondering how I would ever get out of this.