The Door

Last Stop Shop

In the heart of a quaint little shop on the corner of No and Where Avenue, stood a lone, ivory door. Its paint, although chipped and cracked here and there from ages of neglect, was still surprisingly intact for the most part, a touch of gold accenting the worn frame. The same could not be said, however, about the ancient rusty doorknob dangling to the side. Where once bore the face of a mighty lion, a smooth, ruddy handle remained.

The door, being the only item to ever grace the shop's otherwise bleak interior, was the root of many untold legends. It is inscribed on every wall the names of those whom have crossed its threshold, never to be seen or heard from again. They ranged from Sir William the Third all the way to Katy Portman, each one shimmering in an eerie iridescent glow that reflected evenly across the marbled floor.

At first glance, there was nothing spectacular about the shop, yet any time someone bold enough wandered in, a hag was rumored to appear bearing a tome blanketed in dust in her frail grey arms. She never spoke, never blinked, and never smiled. Instead, she would wait patiently for her customer to accept the tome before mysteriously vanishing once they glanced away, even if only for a brief moment.

Jemini, this fabled "last stop shop," earned its title from the common belief that whom shall ever choose to pass through the door after reading the tome, shall find themselves in an entirely new realm fitting of their deepest desires. Whether it was born from a miracle or some sort of mystical black magic, I could never be sure. The only known truth about Jemini is that all those seeking destiny have found it there, shrouded in crisp white walls artfully scrawled over with generations old names and the faint hint of mildew permeating the air.

The one and only consequence of using the door is that once it closes, you can never return to the world you left behind. Perhaps that is why, after all these years, people have grown to fear it so? No one knows for certain where Jemini's customers really go, just that they all left for their own selfish reasons.

Now, while you might insist the shop is a myth, I can assure you it is very, very, real indeed. You see, I am one of the rare few who owes their life to Jemini.

And it all began with a woman known as Amber King.