The Masked Ladder
by Paige M. House
4th Midsummer, Year 40 of Feral Magic
It’s been a day since I climbed through the first door. I can see neither the end nor the beginning of the tunnel. It’s dark down here, and I’m writing with such excitement that I can only hope my writing is legible.
Yesterday, I took a walk in the woods beyond the fields of my family’s farm for the first time. I’ve spent years staring at it from my window. There was something about it that pulled me like no other thing did. My mother has always told me to stay away from it, but my curiosity took hold. I couldn’t wait any longer. I needed to go out on my own and see what was out there.
I’m not sure how long I had been wandering when I stumbled upon a rainbow of daisies, illuminated by flares of sun passing through the trees.
As I walked closer, I noticed the daisies surrounded a set of light blue, circular, wooden doors. A closer look at the doors revealed a small, hand-painted message: “True love lies at the end of the tunnel.” Flutters filled my stomach. I had read myths in school about magical tunnels that lead you to your deepest desire.
The promise of true love.
I stepped on the door and crouched down. As I wrapped my hand around the door’s handle, my heart thudded against the walls of my chest. I pulled upward, and the door whispered a creak. I looked down and saw another set of doors, buttery yellow and waiting to be opened. In the center of the doors lay a box of chocolates with a note. It read: “Sweets for my sweet, Imogen.” The sight of my name on the label made a sharp breath escape from my lips. I lifted my head and scanned the forest around me to see if I could see anyone who would have left this note for me. The trees sat completely still. No birds chirped, no twigs snapped, no bugs buzzed. All was quiet.
I lowered my legs into the hole, falling for just a moment before landing on the yellow doors. My hands tensed as I opened the box of chocolates, and I studied them. They seemed normal, so I put one in my mouth. The soothing taste lifted my cheeks into a grin. I ate another and put the rest in my knapsack.
I opened the yellow doors and found yet another set of doors. These doors were pink with a note that said, “You’re beautiful.” My lips widened, and heat filled my cheeks. He thought I was beautiful. Beautiful. I had never heard that from a man before.
I continued descending, finding notes and gifts, like this journal and pen, which made me all the more delighted. Yet, with each door I opened, the tunnel became darker and darker. Darkness makes me uneasy, but the reward at the end of the tunnel will be worth it.
After climbing down for a while, I stumbled upon a door with no gift. Confused, I assumed he had just missed the door, so I opened the next. I crawled down and felt around, catching only roots and dirt from the walls. Still hopeful, I opened three more doors, each time searching around in the darkness, yet there was still nothing. My throat tightened. This wasn’t normal.
I crawled over to the wall and pressed my back against the hard dirt, hugging my knees into my chest. That always comforts me. I wanted to go back, but a piece of paper crunched beneath my fingers. I brought it up close to my face and squinted, reading: “Don’t give up on me, my love. You’re almost there.” As I read, a bead of sweat dripped from my forehead onto the note. The small space amplified the heat of midsummer.
I reread the words, then held the note close to my chest. Then, I opened this journal and started writing what you’re reading now.
I’m excited to see what lies ahead.
-Imogen
*
5th Midsummer, Year 40 of Feral Magic
This is my second day of descending the Magic Ladder. That’s the name I’ve given this tunnel because its doors are like the rungs of a ladder. I spent the night here, on a padded door, and refilled my water canister from a small jug he had left for me.
It is also completely dark. As I pass through the doors, the width of the tunnel is narrowing, then expanding, then narrowing once more. It makes me feel a little queasy, but it’s probably just my love teasing me. I like that he has a sense of humor.
I hope that when I meet him, I will be somehow cleaned up. The heat of the tunnel, along with my stench, is slightly nauseating. Still, I want to look marvelous when we first lay eyes on each other.
I grew worried about seven eight doors ago that I would never reach him. But as I’m writing this, I can feel a sprinkling of rose petals below me as I sit on what I believe to be my fortieth door. The petals feel like encouragement from my love.
I can’t stop now.
-Imogen
*
6th Midsummer, Year 40 of Feral Magic
This is my third day of descending the Magic Ladder. I’ve gone through all my food. I should have eaten my chocolates faster; they melted in my pack, but I can clean that out when I’ve made it. I still have some water left in my canister.
My stomach rumbles sharply. I’m sure my love can tell I’m hungry. He won’t let me starve, right? Surely, behind any one of these doors, there will be food waiting for me. Or maybe he wants me to be hungry for some reason I can’t understand right now. Maybe I will later, and this will all make sense when I reach him. I need to stay positive.
-Imogen
*
7th Midsummer, Year 40 of Feral Magic
I’ve lost track of how many doors I’ve been through. I haven’t seen a sign of him for several hours. Maybe he’s mad at me. I’m not sure why. I’ve whispered apologies in the darkness, hoping he would give me a sign that he’s still here with me. No answers.
The thought of my love abandoning me fills my eyes with tears. He hasn’t even met me yet. Maybe he's testing me?
Time has slipped by. I have run out of water. My stomach hurts, and I can barely breathe. I rest my head on my shoulder, and the world whirls around me. I tried to use my compass to get some sense of direction, but the needle kept spinning like a windmill. The heat is pressing in on my arms. I can barely lift them to write this.
My arms are bleeding. The walls have turned thorny, and the space presses in on me. The salt of my sweat and tears stings at the cuts. I have closed my eyes to calm myself, but the only thing I see is the same all-consuming darkness. I feel around my knapsack and gasp. All of my supplies have turned to dust, my gift included. There’s no way I can climb back up.
There’s no way out.
-Imogen
*
8th Midsummer, Year 40 of Feral Magic
I was stuck. There was only dirt, no handles, nowhere to go. I thought to myself that it couldn’t be. I had come so far only for it all to end in darkness and pain.
I curled up as tightly as I could to keep the thorny walls from piercing me more, and I grew frustrated with myself. How could I have been so naive? I sobbed and panted, hugging myself to try to stay calm. All I wanted to do was scream—out of anger, out of sadness, and for help—but it would be pointless. I lowered my head into my knees in defeat. There was nothing but the sound of my beating heart.
I was going to die in the Magic Masked Ladder.
Then something brushed my shoulder. A rope. I heard the voice of my mother calling out to me: “Grab the rope!” I lifted my shaky hand toward it, then hesitated. The idea of leaving felt like admitting his love was never real. The rope swayed in front of me and brushed against my fingers. Solid.
I mustered up as much strength as I had left to grab the rope. I soared, retreating through each door I had opened in my quest for love. With each door I passed, the light expanded until it fully shone on me again. I made it to the arms of my mother, and I cried and shook.
Once home, she dressed my wounds. It was nice to feel real care from someone I knew for certain wouldn’t hurt me. As I lay in bed, I studied her face. Her lips were in a soft, comforting smile, but her eyes carried worry. She caught me looking at her, tears trickling down my cheeks. She took my hand in hers, told me she loved me, and that everything would be okay.
-Imogen
***
Paige M. House is an author and English teacher from Northwest Indiana who primarily writes stories in the fantasy genre. She enjoys golfing, reading, and spending time with her dog, Finn. She would like to thank her family and friends for their support! You can find her on Instagram @paigemhousewriter.
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