A Better Place

There was only one rule: don’t open the door. Mama would berate you if you even looked at it. She’d been here longer than any of us.

There wasn’t much to do with our time other than look. We’d all been together so long that there were no new stories to tell. Or, at least, no new stories that any of us cared to share.

“Quit your dreaming!” Mama snarled. She’d once run an orphanage and liked to pretend she was still in charge.

Harlan tried to open it, once. None of us knew we could hurt each other before that day. Somehow, Mama had found a way. She’d always had a talent for hurting people, as the orphans still lingering would tell you.

Today was the day. I signaled, and the orphans immediately climbed on the furniture. Mama hated feet on the furniture. Sure enough, she swiftly turned her ire on the little ones, screaming like an air raid siren.

Now was my chance. I sprinted, faster than I’d ever been in life, and wrenched the door open. A glorious light spilled through. I heard my mother gently calling to me. As I began to step over the threshold, something barreled into me. Now prone, I braced the door open with my feet. Mama was pulling my hair, but it felt like she had her fingers in my soul, clawing me open from the inside.

Then, something caught her eye, and she gazed in horror into the doorway, which was now smoking and glowing ominously. The shadows oozed outward, swallowing her as she screamed and clawed at the doorway, begging for more time.

As soon as she was gone, the darkness retreated and the light returned. I heard a chorus of welcome as I stepped through the door.