by Angela Kempe
Sarah stared at the doorknob. Would today be the day? She touched the cool brass surface of the round knob.
“No. No. No,” she repeated, turning away.
Sarah hastened past stacks of dusty newspapers and books lining the hallway like thick wallpaper. She stopped at her living room and gazed out at her TV. The coffee table, cluttered with medicine and empty chip bags. Accumulated empty soda cans, contorted and tossed about. Her cat, Olive, napping on the love seat, nestled in a mound of blanket folds.
She walked over to her cat and sat next to her beloved mound of black fur.
“Wish I was you,” she said, stroking the soft fur behind her ears.
The cat stretched and rolled onto her sleek back, engine cooing softly.
“Well, someone has to get the groceries!”
Sarah was suddenly consumed with terror.
She stood up.
“It’s just a door. It’s just a door. It’s just a door,” she chanted as she made her way back to the doorknob.
She placed her hand on the metal and let her palm feel the iciness until it began turning red and hot. Then she clutched it to her chest and let her left hand nurse the other.
“It’s just a door,” she muttered under her breath.
Sarah’s body felt like liquid. Her blood had drained out of her face and gone out of her shoes. Taking a deep breath, she struggled to move her feet.
“It’s just a door,” she said closing her eyes and grasping the doorknob.
At once she opened it and hurried through the threshold, squinting in the brightness. Then, the light settled and the alien forms began to take shape in front of her. Forest green long necks walking along the promenade in large straw hats embellished with exotic blue flowers. Thick green lizard ones striding hurriedly on all fours, donning black bow ties.
Sarah nervously felt for the folds of her stomach. A beaked feathered snake, sliding on the very end of his tail stared horridly at her and then slithered away. She lift her head to the snowy mountain range that lay like a picture in the distance. The world was a vast icy place.The sky tinged with purple, and three moons sitting like a Garnithuan’s eyes staring down at her.
Then, she walked herself to the store.