The Kingdom Behind the Brown Door
She anointed herself, Staring Champion of Forever back in 1981. She was an excellent starer and no one wore the crown better than she. Sitting upon her glazed throne in this royal place, her clouded eyes did not blink. Here, she stared intensely at the plainest of brown doors–its color like chocolate milk without the sweetness. When thinking dull thoughts, she enjoyed leering at the door’s meandering rings until she entered Forever. The kingdom of Forever was filled with royal inhabitants who pranced about with festive voices and smelly feet.
The only window in Forever was an undersized transom that sat selfishly high. Glass walls let one taste what it might be like over There without giving up on over Here. So she fervently believed all windows should be altruistic in their station, and deduced the undersized transom was the one thoughtless window in the entire universe. She often refused to even acknowledge its egocentric existence.
The pink oval rug was an entirely different story. It was not even pink. Not anymore. It was a shade of dusty rose now lost somewhere on the value scale. She articulated dusty rose when she was having honest conversation with the milky door. She often admitted that the dusty rose footman had caught stains from her earth worn feet. Once, she made the mistake of calling the oval rug–dirty. It immediately turned all kinds of wet and dark. Not pleasant. The selfish window wouldn’t even open to dispense the unbearable stench. So the rug covering the mildewed black and white tile was most definitely dusty rose. It remained happy this way–a fibrous flower with velvet petals and pleasant scent. If you liked that sort of smell. (Shh listen, don’t tell the pink footman but she doesn’t like the stench of roses. To her they smell of death.)
On the days when the transom window was behaving especially uppity and the dusty rose rug was disinterested in comforting her calloused feet, she stared at browness. Sometimes she didn’t like squatting on the royal seat while gazing. Like the roses and their bad death odor, the porcelain was too close to bone white. Skeleton-colored shitters and those damn roses could stay in horrid funeral parlors that didn’t have proper brown doors with jubilant kingdoms.
When she stared at the door with her aristocratic eyes, porcupines appeared or ground hogs that could have been anteaters–she was never sure. Forms sprang to life the way the broken faucet did when the wrench was shoved too hard. In this place, there were endless teeth wrapped in smiles that went on Forever. She loved anything and everything about Forever. Where Forever was death roses and bone shitters weren’t allowed. Beyond the plain door was brown–the exquisite color brown–browns as far as the cloudy eye could see. No horrible colors existed in Forever, like the button-collar dress Ellie Sue Menser was stuffed into when her skin pulsed cold and her face smacked mannequin stiff. No organ oranges, bloodied reds or bile yellows in this woody place nothing but warm living brown.
All the smiles she once knew, John Poiter’s with the big planet sticking out of his neck, Arnessa Blue Platt’s who didn’t like blue (she didn’t like brown either) and Talia O. Smith-Wisier the Second’s who didn’t know who the First was, were all gone. They’d left long ago with putrid rose smells and frozen skin. They’d never found Forever like she did. They didn’t have glazed white thrones, and they never stole extra years from the kingdom’s wizard who lived outside the transom window.
On the opposite side of the door where colors prowled, traitors set their traps. These betrayers usurped her power by lobbing endless commands–eat, walk, bathe, brush, sleep… Sadly, whenever she visited Forever she could never stay. Iron fists would come knocking on the soft animals making them scamper to the furthest brown foothills. The porcupines and the ground hogs that could have been anteaters sometimes jumped into floundering bubbles. Bubbles that often tried squeezing out the transom.
Whenever the transom saved the animals of Forever, she didn’t mind its lofty behavior. All she ever secretly wanted from the thoughtless window was to spy a sliver of blue from time to time (though she entirely preferred brown) so when she spoke to her friends at night, like Arnessa Blue Platt who now hid in the stars, she could tell Arnessa that blue was quite lovely though not nearly as warm as brown.
The enemies of the other side were jealous of her glazed throne and the dusty rose footman who served her dirty calloused feet. The double-crossers were relentless. Why did they bother her so? She would eventually abdicate. She always did. She feared if she lingered in Forever too long that she’d turn into bones and smell bad like roses. It also hurt her butt though she preferred bum soreness to cold fear. Those waiting on the milky brown door’s bad side, wanted to dress her up like Ellie Sue Menser in a button-collar dress until her skin too, turned stiff. So she hid away in this small room everyday for as long as she could tolerate it. In the Kingdom of Forever, she was both queen and princess. She was adored. Here, she bathed in the warmth of a milky brown door, her life celebrated by the joyous inhabitants of Forever.
… upon her glazed throne, thinking dull thoughts…the Kingdom of Forever began shaking like brown rocks in a blender…
If you read, I humbly appreciate. I’m experimenting with the Flash Fiction process…
This is my fourth attempt.
image painted long ago