In the side of a mountain, there is a door. What's on the other side of the door, you ask? Well, it depends on your own actions. If you are kind-hearted and always help others, you will see the world of your dreams on the other side. If you have a heart of stone and think of only yourself, you will see a world that seems great at first, but the farther you venture, it will become your worst nightmare with no escape. What world would you see? Your dream world, or living hell with no escape? Think about what you've done before entering the mystical door in the mountain.

It's weird when traveling you find all kinds of things but just so happens that this time I found something I can't take back with me.

It seemed like a normal day, a day where the sun shined bright and the sky was clear, not a rain cloud to complain about. Julie wakes with a great sense of happiness and humor. She decides to ask a few of her friends to take a friend vacation to catch up on all the good times and take more adventures with lots of photos. It was time Julie thought to herself, she'd been working so hard these last few months.

After a quick breakfast, she puts on an old pair of shorts and a white tank top that is a couple of sizes bigger than her. She planned to run a little and make a few calls to invite the girls, only two of her best friends. The exercise was her second thing to do after she ate breakfast. She knew a place in North Carolina where they could stay in cottages out in the woods, she'd book it all even if the girls didn't agree. She grabbed her belongings and headed out to run, the cold air hitting her as soon as she walked out into the yard. It felt amazing for some reason and made her think how much work she's been putting in lately, how much she wanted to be free. It wasn't long before a warm breeze came over the mountain, Julie could feel it in her bones. She set her earbuds in and dialed the first number as she started to run around the neighborhood. When she got through to them she said she'd call a half hour or so later. They agreed, and Julie said goodbye and hung up. As she ran, she hummed to herself as she played music on her phone. A couple of hours pass, and she gets tired a bit and slows down a little so she doesn't tire out too quickly. She drinks from her water bottle and continues to jog a little more, dialing the next number to reach her friend. They hang up shortly after their initial greeting. They were going to have to call me back, but they would keep in touch. The next person was another one of her close friends, Rachel. After talking a bit more, she said she had someone who wanted to come along as well. That would make it four of us and I didn't know how I felt about it. So of course, we went back and forth about it. But I eventually agreed and told her female-only adventure was a go. We set up a date, which we were all excited about. After that, it was finally time to say hello to the Third person. Her name was Evelyn and although she was very busy with work, she was always happy for us to come over to see her, Maybe stay a few nights there and then go deeper into the Mountains of North Carolina. I was excited about it all and the girl's agreement made it Fantastic.
We all agreed to meet in front of the restaurant at nine, and I made sure everything was going to be perfect. We all would talk for hours till we meet up. It took almost no effort to set it up, Evelyn was happy to help me out.

Everything seemed to be going as planned, I packed light because I'm a shopper, especially when I travel. Evelyn Packed medium and essentials only. She was practical. I packed enough clothes and my hygiene kit to last a month and then some food because I knew that most of them would either go back home or end up with some other group that needed them, so I packed food I knew they could use and stuff to bring over to our cabin with three bedrooms. Since Rachel wants to bring someone she'll have to sleep alongside them and share a room. It all seemed perfect. We said goodbye to everyone, hugged a few people, and said thank you again. All I had left to do was pick them up and head off. After driving a bit, we finally made it. We started with a hike and then we found a great path to veer off to, which by then we ended up at this large Mtn which had an opening. We were shocked.

“Enter.” Janx’ voice was terse as usual. Instantly I was a little boy asking for a second cookie instead of a grown man, a crown prince, a bridegroom. Even though our union was in name only, a year long symbolic marrying of our clans, I still felt I deserved more. More what I had no idea? Steaming, I charged into my wife’s chamber. She was veiled of course. Her graceful back in a peasant shift faced me. Janx didn’t bother to look up. “What is it?” She asked while writing in a ledger. I banged me fist on her secretary desk. “My subjects kneel when I enter a room,” I bellowed. “Good thing I am not your subject.” Janx turned and folded her arms. In the four moons we have shared I’ve never seen her face but I feel she is always mocking me. Or ignoring me. “I am accustomed to being treated with respect in my—“ “Yes yes and I’m accustomed to having happy gentlemen callers in my bedroom. Your Grace we can play witty repertoire all night but I’m tired and you’re outmatched. Again what is it?” I grabbed her shoulders lifting my wife from her chair. “Wait is this the part where we recognize our animosity is really passion and we fall into each other’s arms?” Janx chuckled. I flung her back down and headed to the door. “Camryn stop.” I continued marching needing to leave our royal chambers, needing the sea to clear my spirit. “Please.” Her voice snagged me at the final door. “I’m not good with people. I get tired and—“ “And a right sea hag.” Janx laughed and snorted. “I would have said irritated but you’re closer. Why are you so angry with me? Usually only my closest friends get this cross with me.” I sighed, a jangle of emotions ensnared me. Janx has spoken to the weavers, the farmers, and all of the guilds. She has joined the council of elders and meets regularly in the marketplace. And each night we eat dinner in silence. “ I see.” Her voice was tinged with a pity that stung. I realized I said my thoughts out loud. I ran my fingers through my hair. Suddenly I felt naked. She doesn’t ask about me because there is nothing to ask. I turned back to the door. “Do your people tell stories by the fireside?” I asked. Janx tilted her covered face. “Yes the Lynnx tell stories mostly during the high holidays.” “Do you know the story of the Door in the Mountains?” Janx shook her head. “Of the man in the wood who guards the gateway and the questions that have to be answered? Do you know what lays on the other side?” My wife looked at me for the first time. I turned and left our bedroom for the comfort of the sea.

There is a man that stands behind the mountain. He wears a very large cloak, one that to an individual would look far too big, but to him, it is perfect. The hood is perfectly sized to fit his head and hide his face, and the coat of it is just large enough for him to appear bigger but not too large to where it drags against any surface he may walk on.

Specifically the surface of the mountain.

Every third Wednesday of each month, he finds himself at the heel of the mountain. Though, he has yet to climb it— to step foot on the first rock that marks the path to the Door, there is not one month that he misses.

There are legends of the Door; of what is behind it. There are legends as to what an individual who walks the path will see, feel. Legends, tales, both good and bad. But when one hears these stories, the bad is what is remembered and feared.

But on the third Wednesday of the third month, the man in the very large cloak stands behind the mountain and walks past the first rock.

This mountain stands in the midst of the clouds and falls in a green forest. Trees surround it and part where the path begins.

He continues his walk up the path. He has made it a couple of feet and no legends or tales have been proven to be true, so he relaxes and continues with confidence.

The man in the very large cloak begins to tire as he climbs the steep mountain. Sweat lines his forehead and his breaths shorten. His legs feel like limp flowers, and his feet throb.

He begins to think about his home in the village: his bed that waits for him, the food that calls for him, and the coolness of temperature that readies for him.

His steps begin to slow, then finally come to a stop. He sits on the dirt path not caring for his clothes or the Door that he so often claims he wants to see.

He removes his hood and wipes the sweat from his forehead with the sleeve of his cloak and decides he will take a quick break. He will simply rest his eyes for just a moment and then continue his journey.

But when is eyelids begin to feel like weights tied to his lashes, he jolts at a sound behind him. Trees rustle, and he tells himself it is an animal. He is surrounded by trees; of course it is an animal.

The sound comes closer, creeping up his spine into the space between his cloak and his chest. He inhales whatever ounce of air is near and brings his fingers to his ears; it is the only way to drown the loud beat of his heart, but it only gets louder.

He rises.

Wipes the dirt from his cloak.

And runs.

The trees around him begin to shake. He did not look to where he ran but it is when a branch falls at his feet that he realizes he is only a couple of feet from the mountain’s peak.

This realization only makes the trees angrier. They call the wind to join forces, and the man in the cloak fights against it. He pushes with all of his might, every ounce of strength he can muster.

Trees whisper, wind howls, and the path he walks shakes with fury.

He is so close to surrendering. So close to drawing the white flag he keeps hidden, until the path stops shaking, the trees pick up the leaves they have dropped and turn their heads from him, and the wind stops it’s cries and begins to sing.

Alexander slowly let’s go of the grip he has on his cloak and drops to the ground. He claws at his throat begging for it to open— to take air and gift his lungs with it, but with his hands on his throat, he looks up.

The sky has cleared above the mountain. The sun wakes. The grass that sits at its peak waves at him, and that is when he takes his first breath.

The Door sits at the top of the mountain untouched, pristine. Not one scratch marks its service and not one smudge stains it.

It has been waiting.

For him.

Bendelkohf pulled his cloak tighter around his frail, aging frame, the icy North Wind finding every opportunity to stab his arthritic joints. How many days had it been? Four? Five? Ten? He had lost track. He knew only the path; Not from any sign or guidepost, but from a novel navigation spell. Not a cheap incantation, by the way, having cost him four ancient opals, seven quilboar teeth, and a Flame of Umbershire scroll.

“It had better warrant this extravagant spend,” he had mumbled to his only companion, a raven called Sulemon that had joined him on his journey—without an invite, as ravens often do.

The old wizard had been on many journeys—many much more dangerous and foreboding than this—but his age was finally catching up to him and, as any old spellslinger will attest, knees and hips start to give out around year 240. He almost opted out, almost chose to simply stay home in front of his cozy fire, smoking his favorite pipe, and trying to finish (finally) his Grand Book of Common Spells.

But he couldn’t.

He had received a letter of invitation, and everyone knows that it is indeed a rare day when a wizard of any import decides to ignore a letter of invitation. Thus, here he found himself, walking up a rarely-used mountain trail toward a location he was unfamiliar with, in the middle of a cold, windy night, with only the increasing or decreasing light at the end of his trusty staff to guide him.

And he was tired.

Cold, hungry, wet, tired.

He felt, by the strong glow from his staff, that he must be getting close. It had to be just around the—yes, there it is!

Or wait… is it?

The path gave every indication that it was heading toward an end point, but there appeared to be nothing there but the blunt, rocky side of the mountain; As if the path itself disappeared. Had there been a collapse? No, it was too uniform. “Ah,” he mused to Sulemon with a chuckle, “I have perhaps lost a step in my old age. It is but a simple cloaking spell. I will just,” and here he took a foldable wooden table from his knapsack, opened it, and placed his spellbook upon it, “give it a little of the, yes, there it is…”

With a flourish, some magic-sounding Latin words, and a wave of his wand, Bendelkohf watched as small balls of bright energy rose from the ground, swirled about his head, and then slammed into the side of the mountain. With a loud rumble and shake, a door suddenly appeared!

The next step any first-year wizard could do: he simply moved his right eyebrow and the now-visible wooden door flung open.

Bendelkohf entered.

A small, brightly-lit room with a single desk was a stark contrast to the icy darkness, so he didn’t hesitate to enter. It was warm, soft music played from somewhere down a long hallway. He was pretty sure he could smell baked goods (his grumbly stomach concurring). He was about to ahem a greeting when a young woman entered the room.

“Well, hello there. Who do we have here?”

He lowered his hood and leaned his staff against the wall. “I am Bendelkohf the Beige, Associate Wizard of the Grindle School, Runeclan University. I have been summoned to this location by post, and I am here to offer my services.” With that, he handed over the correspondence that had led to this meeting, high up in the Argonelle mountains, that dark, wind-revished eve.

She looked at it. “Oh, excellent. Looks like you’ve been selected to stay the weekend with us. If you’ll bring your things, I’d love to show you to your accommodations. We’re so glad you’ve decided to take advantage of this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Have you ever looked into owning a Time-Share before?”

Bendelkohf didn’t wait for the sound of the old wooden door to slam shut behind him before he had already scurried halfway back down the mountain. His companion alit upon a branch to his left and let out a mocking “caw.”

“Not a word, you!”

Darkness my old friend When will you end Morning will come soon But first we howl to the moon

Dead of night mystery Late night misery Wondering in the dark Wishing for night’s spark

Longing for sweet depth Waiting for eventual death Hearing night’s silent sounds Head spins round and round

Wee hours slowly come The clock’s click has won New day is dawning Waking and now yawning Tessa🦋

As death walked out his door, not knowing if he’d be back or not. He gathered his staff and some snacks, he locked his door and placed another stone in the garden for good luck and departed for his adventure. He walked down the path to the portal to welcome the new comer for the new journey. As they walked through the portal they looked around in the moonlight ombré of the vast unknown. As they stood in silence death stretched his hand out to the path. The man follows the direction of the hand not saying a word. As they walk death offers a snack of walnuts for the long walk, the man reaches his hand out and received some of the nuts. The man looked around seeing his friends, family, pasted lovers to the last long love. To scared to break the silence he stands in silence starting at his wife and children with a single tear falling. He gets a warm touch on his shoulder as death Guides him down the path further. They continue the walk into the the depths. As they approached the light the man sighs in relief. “Thank you for the walk I hope you make it back alright” the man says. “No, thank you for my final walk now let’s go arm and arm to the light and see what’s awaiting for us.” As death replied they walked through the vail.

Legend has it there’s a door in the mountains that will lead you to a world unlike any other. It rests just beyond the forbidden forest, high above the highest mountain,hidden among the stars. Only the brave and the curious have found it.

Thousands have made that treacherous journey and none have return. Some say many died while others say they entered that world and would never return.

  I’ve heard countless stories about this magical door and the wonderful new world it offers. It’s been everything from a world consisting only of magic to a world filled with two legged creatures. I’ve heard them all.  But I consider myself to be neither brave or curious enough to go there and see for myself.

    I have everything I need here in this world. Why would I need to go and seek another. Especially one that only exists in the wild minds of tortured souls. 

  I know this so called “special new world” all too well because I helped create it. I had a hand in making  it what it is. And because my ideas of what I considered to be fun, were labeled as pure evil, I’ve been banned to this world. I instantly took the throne because I was the first to claim occupancy, that was until the others started to show up. 

  And so it has been for centuries. Just myself and the millions of tortured souls that were just too evil to live in that glorious world high above the mountains. The world many down here refer to as “A Heavenly Paradise”. The world that can only be entered through, the door in the mountains.

𝒱𝒾ℴ𝓁ℯ𝓉 𝒽𝒶𝒹 𝒶𝓁𝓌𝒶𝓎𝓈 𝓌ℴ𝓃𝒹ℯ𝓇ℯ𝒹 𝒶𝒷ℴ𝓊𝓉 𝓉𝒽ℯ 𝓂ℴ𝓊𝓃𝓉𝒶𝒾𝓃𝓈 𝓃ℯ𝒶𝓇 𝒽ℯ𝓇 𝒽ℴ𝓊𝓈ℯ 𝘞𝘩𝘺? 𝒴ℴ𝓊 𝓂𝒶𝓎 𝒽𝒶𝓋ℯ 𝒶𝓈𝓀ℯ𝒹. 𝒯𝒽ℯ 𝒶𝓃𝓈𝓌ℯ𝓇 𝓉ℴ 𝓎ℴ𝓊𝓇 𝓆𝓊ℯ𝓈𝓉𝒾ℴ𝓃 𝒾𝓈 𝒷ℯ𝒸𝒶𝓊𝓈ℯ ℴ𝒻 𝓈𝓉ℴ𝓇𝒾ℯ𝓈 𝓈𝒽ℯ 𝒽𝒶𝒹 𝒽ℯ𝒶𝓇𝒹. 𝒯𝒽ℯ 𝓈𝓉ℴ𝓇𝒾ℯ𝓈 𝓂𝒶𝒹ℯ 𝒽ℯ𝓇 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝓉ℴ 𝒾𝓃𝓋ℯ𝓈𝓉𝒾ℊ𝒶𝓉ℯ. 𝒮ℴ ℴ𝓃ℯ 𝒹𝒶𝓎 𝓈𝒽ℯ 𝓌ℯ𝓃𝓉 𝓉ℴ 𝓉𝒽ℯ 𝓂ℴ𝓊𝓃𝓉𝒶𝒾𝓃𝓈. 𝒮𝒽ℯ 𝒸𝓁𝒾𝓂𝒷ℯ𝒹 𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝓉𝒽ℯ 𝓌𝒶𝓎 𝓉ℴ 𝓉𝒽ℯ 𝓉ℴ𝓅, 𝓌𝒽ℯ𝓇ℯ 𝓈𝒽ℯ 𝒻ℴ𝓊𝓃𝒹 𝒶 𝒹ℴℴ𝓇. 𝒮𝒽ℯ 𝓀𝓃ℴ𝒸𝓀ℯ𝒹 ℴ𝓃 𝓉𝒽ℯ 𝒹ℴℴ𝓇 𝓈ℯ𝓋ℯ𝓃 𝓉𝒾𝓂ℯ𝓈. 𝒯𝒽ℯ 𝒹ℴℴ𝓇 𝓉𝒽ℯ𝓃 ℴ𝓅ℯ𝓃ℯ𝒹 𝒾𝓉𝓈ℯ𝓁𝒻. 𝒯𝒽ℯ 𝒹ℴℴ𝓇 𝓈𝓅ℴ𝓀ℯ ℴ𝓇 𝒶𝓉 𝓁ℯ𝒶𝓈𝓉 𝓈𝒽ℯ 𝓉𝒽ℴ𝓊ℊ𝒽𝓉 𝒾𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓉𝒽ℯ 𝒹ℴℴ𝓇. "𝒴ℴ𝓊 𝓂𝒶𝓎 𝓉𝒶𝓀ℯ ℴ𝓃ℯ 𝒾𝓉ℯ𝓂, ℴ𝓃𝓁𝓎 ℴ𝓃ℯ." ℐ𝓉 𝓈𝒶𝒾𝒹 𝒮𝒽ℯ 𝓌ℯ𝓃𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝓇ℴ𝓊ℊ𝒽 𝓉ℴ 𝓁ℴℴ𝓀. 𝒮𝒽ℯ ℊ𝓇𝒶𝒷𝒷ℯ𝒹 𝒶 ℊℴ𝓁𝒹 𝒸𝒽𝒶𝒾𝓃 𝒷𝓇𝒶𝒸ℯ𝓁ℯ𝓉 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒶 𝓈𝒾𝓁𝓋ℯ𝓇 𝒸𝒽𝒶𝓇𝓂 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓁ℴℴ𝓀ℯ𝒹 𝓁𝒾𝓀ℯ 𝒶 𝓇𝒶𝒾𝓃𝒹𝓇ℴ𝓅. ℐ𝓉 𝒽𝒶𝒹 𝒶 𝓃ℴ𝓉ℯ 𝓃ℯ𝓍𝓉 𝓉ℴ 𝒾𝓉 𝓈𝒶𝓎𝒾𝓃ℊ 𝒾𝓉 ℊ𝒶𝓋ℯ 𝓌𝒽ℴℯ𝓋ℯ𝓇 𝒽𝒶𝒹 𝒾𝓉 𝓉𝒽ℯ 𝓅ℴ𝓌ℯ𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓂ℴ𝓈𝓉 𝓈𝓊𝒾𝓉ℯ𝒹 𝓉𝒽ℯ𝓂.

“Gildred is going to kill me,” Barnaby mumbled to himself. His wife had been on his case lately. “A whole day out selling potions door-to-door and not a single gold coin or dragon’s tooth to show for it.”

There was that house full of elves, likely students at the local bard’s college. They seemed interested at first, only to find the old alchemist’s brews to not contain any toad’s sweat and therefore they couldn’t get themselves drunk.

He remembered earlier in the day when he met a nice family of centaurs. They seemed polite enough as they let him go through his entire sales pitch. But as soon as they told him that they already were stocked up on transmogrification potions, he knew what that meant.

It was Darmano, the number one potion salesman in the realm. He got to them first!

Barnaby slunk home, his pack just as full as it was when he left in the morning. Perhaps he’d be lucky and be consumed by a swamp dragon or his soul harvested by a hungry blood wolf.

That’d be a better fate than disappointing his wife.