Inside the Door (167 Words)
At the end of the road was a house. At the front of the house was a door.
For a moment Elle stood staring at the door. It was so familiar in memory that it was strange to see it in real life. Even the wreath was the same, although the flowers were certainly fresh.
It didn’t feel right to knock. It felt wrong, as if she would be troubling something sacred. Elle was turning to go when she heard the familiar creak of the door swinging on its hinge, and a familiar voice,
He was standing with a dragonling in his arms, looking ruffled and unkempt in a robe and slippers. Like everything else, she couldn’t imagine him otherwise.
“Can I come in?” she asked.
She expected doubt, even anger. Maybe sadness. But she didn’t expect the sudden, new light in his eyes, full of joy—a desperate, perfect joy.
“Come in, come in,” he said. “I was just about to feed the dormice.”
Written in response to Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer‘s photo prompt. Check it out! As an aside, there are no words to describe how much Wallie and I love the image of this door.
Photo (c) Goroyboy.