The amber shade on the desk lamp cast a gloaming dusk over the bedroom. It wasn’t the right light for reading, all the pages looked like yellow vellum and the type went spidery.
As it was the only lamp she had in her room, she pulled it’s chain and lay down. She heard the wolves howling outside, though she lived in a city and not anywhere wolves would find tasty hunting. Or shelter. Why were there wolves? With a shiver she burrowed under the covers.
She yearned, sometimes, for her days of beeswax candles and fur-lined coverlets, but she was not able to visit any longer. All she had left to her was books. There was television, to be sure; the skinny swarthy man had attached the satellite dish to her roof and Caleb had given her leave to order as many channels as they offered. Rarely did they have anything equal to the words. Television made her want things, let dissatisfaction seep into un-mortared cracks. Books just let her daydream, to splash happily in the rivers of imagination.
Someone knocked on her chamber (bedroom! she reminded herself) door, a thin knock on thin wood. ‘Anyah.’ A reedy whisper slipped into the air. ‘Anyah, I must speak with you.’
‘Enter,’ she sighed out, not bothering to hide her frustration as she slid a bookmark between pages and put her daydreams on hold.
Caleb grinned as he sidled around the crack he opened in the door. ‘Yes, yes, my queen, I know I’m interrupting your dreaming and I really do apologize.’
A smile tugged the corners of her lips up for this idiot man who knew her so well. She gestured theatrically, imperiously, beckoning him farther into the room. ‘Have a seat Caleb, and tell me what’s so important you felt the urge to drag me back into reality.’
‘Oh, it’s important Anyah. In fact, I think you would have been rather more cross with me had I not interrupted.’ The bed depressed around her feet as he wriggled back into a more comfortable position. ‘I believe that there may be a way to reinstate that visitor’s pass of yours.’
‘What!’ Anyah sat up from her plumped pillows and grabbed Caleb’s sleeve. ‘There’s a door? Truly?’
He held his hands up, palms out, a qualifier. ‘Yes, there is a door. I know not what waits on the other side.’
The Master Class prompt this week was from Barbara Kingsolver’s Lacuna, and was to be used as the last line of our story. The line was chosen by the selected winner from last weeks class, and while I haven’t read a lot of her work, what I have read has been witty and funny (not always the same thing) intelligent and interesting. You can read her winning submission here: http://mycyberhouserules.com/2013/11/02/red-rover/