Hello and happy holidays!
Once again, I'm teaming up with Rhonda Parrish to raise money for Edmonton's Food Bank and bring some holiday cheer and yummy food to people in need.
If you can, please consider donating to this fundraiser. Every dollar provides three meals, so any amount helps a lot.
This year, a bunch of authors have gotten together to tell you a story. Read the first part here, by Rhonda Parrish, and follow along every day as the next author adds their twist to the tale!
"Nope," Cherie said, reaching to close the door that no longer existed and therefore could not be closed.
She crossed her arms and glared at this most inconvenient magical doorway. Portal fantasies are all well and good when you're a child with no responsibilities, but she was in her 30s. If she went into another world, she wouldn't be traipsing around with magical creatures. (For one thing, she didn't think traipsing would be good for her knees.) She would probably be doing something, like taxes or… yeah, probably taxes.
So until she found a way to make the doorway stop being a doorway again, she would have to hang a quilt or something over the opening. Keep out the cold and otherworldly birds.
But as Cherie started for the linen closet, she heard a distant yet unmistakable voice that chilled her even more than the swirling wind coming through the doorway.
No. It couldn't be—
"You used to enjoy adventure," the voice teased.
Great Aunt Agnes. Her late Great Aunt Agnes. Who had passed away and should not be capable of talking.
Cherie peered into the other world again, squinting at a figure standing on the bridge, perfectly illuminated by a lamp post.
She couldn't be sure, or so she tried to convince herself. That could be any 6 foot tall octogenarian. And bright blue hair. And only one hand. It's not like the figure was distinctive or anything…
"Oh fine, I'll go through the portal, but I won't enjoy it," she grumbled as she went to put on her coat.
She came back and stood at the threshold between worlds, pretending the feeling in her stomach was indigestion instead of excitement. And there she hesitated. She was an adult. Adults didn't go through portals. They called scientists to study things like that.
"What are you waiting for?" Great Aunt Agnes asked.
"Will the door stay open after I go through?" Cherie shouted, squinting against the snowflakes blowing in her face.
She stepped through.
"As long as you have the second doorknob!"
The… second doorknob? Slowly, Cherie turned, a knot of dread forming in her stomach.
The portal was gone, replaced by a snowy field dotted with smiling snowmen. Because of course it was. Because nothing was ever easy once you're an adult. Not finding comfortable shoes, not sneezing without hurting your back, and definitely not magic.
"Oh, hurry up," Great Aunt Agnes called out cheerfully. "He's waiting!"
What happens next? That’s up to the next author, Iseult Murphy. Read the next part here!