The Door in My Room

That tiny door appeared long ago in my dreams, now there it was in my waking. I was not much surprised as it was a morning I awoke untethered  to the world above my bed. I have a companion in my lofty state, an owl by the name of Laz. In some circles he would be known as my “familiar”. Whether or not I am a witch, is yet to be decided…as for me, I do not count myself among those common spirits. Of my making, I am multiple in being, possessing the “skills” of the presenting form. My control over these, when and where they appear, varies.

Someone or Something is the Master, the Root. He is dark and beautiful and he is horrible. He comes to me in dreams; in waking I feel his presence. It was he put the door there. Of that, I have no doubt. Although horrible, he is a gentleman of sorts, as he allows choices. I can go through the door or not.

 Laz imposed his bookish opinion that not to enter the door would be a disservice to my spirit, hopping back and forth upon his meaty talons suspended beside me in thin air. Pulling my golden braids up into a knot as I swirl, I agree. Laz upon my shoulder, we climb the tiny ladder and open the door.

All that happened next I have not the words to tell! A great roaring rush of sound and wind swept up up and into a whirlpool of darkness; ethereal music, tinkling, growling, stinging things, words in unknown tongues going on and on! The former blended into cool light, still whirl-pooling space; blazing colors swirling, hideous laughing, cries of the dying and maimed, millions of stars and galaxies bright and turning rushing by us toward some unknown end.

In the center of the blaze a form took shape, hazy in shadow of the light. Huge he stood, tattered flowing garments billowing fire. The heat and smell of decay made one breath nearly impossible. I stood my ground, transfixed. I knew this form, shape in all. This was the Someone, the Master, the Root! 

He spoke, not in words. He told me my name. 


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