Dell's Journey

Chapter 22: The Door

The studio, where the monster practiced and composed

his music was opposite the kitchen. The fireplace was

directly in the middle of the floor, underneath the little

opening at the top of the cave, dozens of feet above. There

were two passages, one leading out into the forest and the

rest of the world, and one which led further in to

bedrooms, guest rooms, and storage rooms. Next to the

bench where Monster sat at his great organ was a desk made

of a dark-colored wood. To the right of this were three

identical bookshelves, each three shelves high, and each

full of very impressive looking books, many of which if

opened, would have revealed sheet-music. The bookshelves

were positioned in such a way as to form a sort of half

circle, which divided the area from the rest of the hollow.

Next to the opening of the tunnel that led to the forest

was a weathered grandfather clock on the left, and on the

right, a well-used easy-chair with green upholstery and

brass claws on the armrests, the back of which was deeply

cloven with shreds of white stuffing coming out.

Dell was wandering aimlessly, half-listening to the

monster's playing, when he noticed a strange door at the

very end of the inner passage, barely visible in the

flickering firelight.

"Monster, where does that lead?"

"Oh, to the bedrooms and bathroom. There are three

bedrooms, and the bathroom is the second door on the right

if you want a soak. Towels are in the cubby right inside

the door.

In the morning, Dell was sitting at the kitchen table,

one elbow supporting his chin, one clutching the handle of

a blue porcelain cup with yellow flowers on it. Whitish,

early morning light was casting shadows on the countertops

and the growing stack of dishes by the little sink. It was

crisp and cool, and Dell's hand was grateful for the heat

of the tea on it.

"Monster," he began, "there's a door at the end of the

passage, and it's locked. What's in there?"

Monster spoke slowly and carefully, as though he had

been over his answer too many times, rehearsing and

refining it,

"That door is closed, and shall remain closed as long

as I am here."

Dell allowed a slight smirk to raise one of the sides

of his mouth.

"Well, can you talk about it? I mean, is it a secret

or something?"

"There is nothing to talk about. It is not a secret,

or if it is, then it is not one worth knowing," Monster

replied curtly.

"You may not know much about humans, Monster, but what

you are doing is not in the least diminishing my interest

in what is behind your secret door. If anything, it is

piquing it. Now come on. When will I have the opportunity

to visit a terrible monster in his, uh, lair again? I

mean, this doesn't happen to me much, and I don't imagine

it happens much to you. So let's just get past this

attempt of yours at suppressing what everyone knows is

going to end with the two of us turning that rusty little

handle and gasping at what we meet on the other side!"

Dell said this with much happiness and good humor,

being quite impressed with his own appraisal of the

situation. He loudly slurped his tea, and stared

stubbornly over the brim of the cup into the annoyed eyes

of the Monster.

"Your behavior is most unbecoming," said Monster in a

low, exasperated voice.

"Oh please! It's like you were just waiting to be

asked! You're on the edge of your seat, just hoping some

rambunctious youth all full of piss-and-vinegar will come

bounding along and force you into a major breakthrough in

your life. Well here I am, silly! Wait no more!"

Dell laughed, a little good-naturedly, and a little

rudely. Something about the ridiculous offended dignity of

the Monster had sparked a juvenile impulse in him that made

him want to ruffle feathers.

"You're making me very angry, and yet, I must admit

(because I am such an honest and reasonable fellow) that

you are not far from the mark," sighed Monster.

The monster was a very sensible fellow. He was right

in saying so.

However, the truth is that Monster himself was not

quite sure what was behind the door, since he had shut and

locked it so many years prior. That is not to say that he

didn't have an idea what was there, but he didn't know in

any way approaching certainty. Some will here point out

that certainty in any matter is, if not altogether

impossible, very difficult to maintain or even approach,

but that is not the real issue at hand. The real issue

involved some, shall we say, unpleasantness. The

unpleasantness involved, as it so often does, two

individuals with clashing autonomous wills.