We all know of the times when magic flowed in the air - the times when witches were abroad and prophecies made every farm boy a superhero. But this is not a story from those times.
This story takes place in a time when the world had been engrossed in the mundane for so long that nobody even remembered how magic worked. Everyone wanted to change their lives, but nobody knew how to go about it.
This is the tale of someone who, like many of us, wanted to become something different.
This is the tale of a Door.
In a quaint little inn at the center of the poorer end of a quaint little town, was a Door. Now, it wasn't your normal, run-of-the-mill door. No - this door had been made from the hardwood of the mountain firs. It had grown in the glorious highland air, and it had been very proud to be chosen as a door in what it had thought would be a prominent establishment in a well-populated town.
But for all its eager-eyed wonder, it soon came to realize that life wouldn't be as it had hoped. For starters, the inn was in a sorry state. Its owners were just as rich as the clientele, which is to say they were not rich at all. Hardly did anyone have enough money to rent rooms, and so nothing other than the common room of the inn witnessed any use. On top of that, our story's protagonist wasn't even the door to a room. It was a door to a seldom used broom cupboard. (In fact, the last time the door had been opened was 12 years and 3 months ago, when a broom had first been kept inside.) That broom had long since rusted, and the rat family that used to live there had moved to a better part of town a few years ago.
Only the Door remained. Alone. Forgotten. Its wood had long since cracked, the hinges rusted from disuse. During the long winters, the door could feel the cold seep into its very core, the wood feeling more brittle and weaker than ever before.
Every day the door would see someone come towards it, but they would stop midway at the kitchen and get to work. The door would look longingly at all the items in the kitchen, and fervently wish that it could be of use to someone too. It was incredibly envious of everything in the kitchen, and would pray every day for a miracle to transform it.
But like I said, magic had long since been forgotten, and the Door didn't know how to properly go about a transfiguration spell. So the Door fell into despair, and wished for death. (The modus operandi of the suicide of a door was still unclear, but the dying of inanimate objects is a magic lesson for another time.)
But for all its despair, the Door had forgotten that magic comes to your aid when you least expect it. One fine day, a day like any other, the Door's life changed forever. As it stood on its rusty hinges and gazed longingly at the kitchen items - the utensils, the jars, and the stove - it fervently and futilely wished once again to be like them. What it didn't notice, however, was a young maid, newly employed, coming towards it. And she didn't turn away towards the kitchen either. No - she came directly towards it!
The door was shocked into silence (which coincidentally was its perpetual condition). The maid stood before it, and moments later, she put her hands on the handle, and tugged on it! The door squeakily swung open bit by bit, and the maid peeped inside, took note of the dusty floor and rusted mop, added them to her list of things to clean, came outside the cupboard, and turned to close the door.
That was when she noticed that the door wouldn't budge. She pushed it, tugging on the handle, but years of obsolescence had jammed the hinges and swollen the door's wood. It was effectively stuck halfway. With a huff of annoyance, the maid went her way, adding 'oil the hinges' to her list of things to do.
But the Door! The Door couldn't believe it! It looked around in wonder as it stood stuck halfway, and was overjoyed. Its miracle had finally happened!
It looked over at the kitchen items, and realized that it would no longer have to be envious!
Because the magic had finally worked, and its prayers had at last been answered.
It was now, after years of fervent desire, a part of the kitchen fraternity.
The door was, true to its wishes, finally ajar.
Edited by - Diya Mathew