Little Doors Read Online Free PDF Page A

Shifting dapples of sun and shade in the forest are little doors. Mountains are little doors, although to be sure they are quite big. Your birthday is a little door, and I daresay a full moon is one too. Cats with double-paws are little doors. So is the call of a hunter’s horn. A trunk full of memories in an attic could be a little door. And it is indisputable that love is a little door, as is memory. My goodness, I could go on and on.”
Princess Ordinary tried to understand and did indeed feel herself trembling on the verge of some new knowledge. But still she had a question.
“You say all these common but uncommon things are little doors to somewhere else. Why then, I could have encountered any number of little doors back home, without ever having to undertake this dreadful, tiresome journey. Why have I never been able to, say, step through my mirror, as I have often wished?”
“Ah, you lacked the key to a little door,” the big mouse said patiently. “You see, little doors do not always open when you wish. You must approach them with the proper state of mind. Your emotions and attitude are the key, and they must be strong. Serenity or desperation, desire for or aversion toward—these are some of the states during which a little door may open. I say ‘may’ since nothing is certain in this world, and many have wished for little doors to open and never been so lucky. And of course there are those rare instances when the last thing a person thought he wanted was to enter a little door, but it opened up and swallowed him anyway.”
“So on this journey,” said the Princess slowly and thoughtfully, “what I did was refine my desires until they were pure and intense enough to open a little door.”
“Exactly,” agreed Mouse.
A light broke upon the Princess then, making her look quite beautiful. “Then the quest was its own goal, wasn’t it? And now I can leave your burrow and find my little door.”
“Of course,” said Professor Mouse.
And so she did.
     
    Crawleigh looked up.
    Audrey had walked in silently, and now stood looking at him.
    Crawleigh felt two polar emotions. He had told her never to come here. But he was glad she had. Finally he adopted a cautious neutrality.
    “Well, Audrey—what can I do for you?”
    For a long second she studied his face, at last saying. “You’ve knocked me up. I forgot to take my pills with me to California, and now I’ve missed a period.”
    Crawleigh felt the world billow around him like a sail in the wind. He grew nauseous, then unnaturally calm. What a stupid little slut, he thought. But I’ll take care of her, out of the goodness of my heart.
    “I’ll pay for the abortion of course,” Crawleigh said. “We’ll have it done out of state, if you want, so no one will ever know. And I’ll even come with you.”
    Audrey was silent. Crawleigh thought she hadn’t expected him to take it so calmly.
    “That’s all you have to say?”
    “Yes. What else could we do? Certainly not—”
    “Damn you!” Audrey shrieked.
    She ran out the door.
    For a moment, Crawleigh sat shocked.
    Then he followed.
    Out on the quad, Crawleigh spotted her, still running. She was headed toward the arch.
    Heedless of onlookers, Crawleigh took off after her.
    “Audrey! Wait!”
    She kept running.
    Crawleigh gained slowly.
    When Audrey got to within a few feet of the arch, the world inverted.
    Crawleigh saw the huge arch shrink into insignificance.
    At the same time, the painted door and the painted stairs at the base of the arch assumed solidity and reality as they swelled larger than lifesize. The stairs projected out into the quad, a luminous flight of veined marble. At the top, the hammered-silver door with its golden knob and iron hinges beckoned like a distillation of every forbidden door in every fairy tale ever written or narrated.
    From far, far away, Crawleigh heard the campus bells chime noon. A car horn sounded long and loud, dopplering away as in some dream.
    Audrey had