A Harmless Foray

 

The weather could not have been any more perfect. Standing at the edge of a small pond, he watched the koi swimming toward the surface, looking up at him with a certain familiarity. But he must have been reading the situation wrong, for he had never been here before. Looking out beyond the water, he could see patches of trees and the occasional animal.

              “Hey honey, you found the pond, huh?” a woman’s voice called from behind him.

              “Oh, hey, yeah,” he answered. “And these fish are really cool. Have you been here before?”

              “I have,” she answered. “Early this morning, just as the sun was coming up. I didn’t see the fish though. I guess they were sleeping. Fish sleep, don’t they?”

              “Ha, I would think so,” he said. “Every animal that we’ve seen so far seems to sleep at nighttime. This is the furthest out I’ve been. I’m thinking we should probably try to see all of the garden as soon as possible. We are supposed to be taking care of it. Come on, let’s head out that way.”

              The young couple moved around the pond and out toward a deep forest that seemed to be a long way off.

              “I’m guessing where the endless trees start is where the garden ends,” he said. “Let’s start with that boundary and work our way around. Honestly, I don’t even know how big this place is.”

              Passing by manicured flower beds and shaped hedges, the two made slow progress. “I feel like we’re moving so slow,” she said. “At this rate, it could take us weeks to get all the way around.”

              “Well, beings that we don’t know how big it is, who knows?”

              Rounding a corner, they both stopped and stood in awe. “Wow, would you look at that,” she said. “Have you ever seen something like that before? I mean, man, that is a really weird hole in the ground. What do you think it’s for?”

              “I have no idea,” he answered. “But let’s not look too deeply into anything. I want to make a full pass, once around. We can always come back another day and take a longer look.”

              “No, no, come on,” she said, pulling his hand. “I want to look at this now. Look, the ground just slowly slopes downward. It would be super easy to walk in a bit and see what’s in there. It’ll only take a minute, come on.”

              It was the look in her eyes and the little pout she used when she wanted something that got him every time. He hesitated for a moment but then gave in.

              “You are way too adorable to say no to,” he said. “I sure am glad that we’re working together on this. You are irresistible.” Allowing himself to be pulled along behind her, he gazed at her curves and flawless skin. “Okay, just for a minute.”

              Slipping into the mouth of the cave, the air immediately became much cooler. “Wow, it is almost cold down here,” he said “I didn’t expect that. It’s getting hard to see too.”

              “Oh, we’ll be fine,” she said. “Come on, follow me. The ground is level. We’ll be alright.”

              Distracted by her beautiful shape and face, he continued to follow her down into the cave. The path became somewhat rocky and the further they slid in, the darker it became. Crouching slightly, she warned him to duck his head. As they continued downward, they were soon on their hands and knees. “Oh, wow, look at this,” she said.

              The two of them squeezed through a small opening at the very back of the cave and they stood up in a massive cavern, dimly lit from a hole in the very top of the room, far, far above their heads. Still holding her hand and following her lead, the two walked the perimeter of the massive cavern, overwhelmed by the glittering of something within the rocks of the walls and the stalactites hanging from the ceiling.

              Stopping at the point they believed they had entered, they dropped to their hands and knees and started into the small crawl space. “Oh, hold up,” he said, as he took the lead. “This isn’t the right crawlspace. Back up.”

              After six or seven tries through different tunnels, they always bumped into a dead end. Returning to the cavern, she sat down and pulled her knees up under her chin. “I’m getting kind of scared,” she said. “I don’t think we were supposed to come in here. There’s no garden here to tend. What are we going to do?”

              “Well, it’s starting to get dark. See, the light from that hole in the ceiling has really dimmed. I guess we’re going to have to sleep here for the night. When it gets light again, I think I can figure our way out of here.”

              Huddling together, they backed up against the edge of the cave and tried to sleep. Days and weeks came and went and eventually they consigned themselves to the fact that they would never leave.

              “It’s so dark and gloomy here,” she complained. “Why don’t you get us out of here?”

              “I’m trying, I’m trying,” he answered, with a bitter edge to his voice. “If you wouldn’t have led us down here, we’d still be out there enjoying the warm sunshine. This is all your fault.”

              “Oh sure, blame me,” she said. “You’re supposed to be the one in charge. Now we’re stuck in here. What are you going to do?”

              Years passed and they began to feel at home in the gloom. Children were born and they somehow found enough food and light to maintain something resembling a life. Lying huddled together in the darkness of the dead of night, they heard a voice call out, “Hello?”

              “What? Did you hear that?” he said. Jumping up, he responded with a yell.

              As he ran around the edge of the cave, he saw a head pop out of one of the tunnels. “Oh, hey, yeah, over here,” he said. “Don’t lose your place there. That was the mistake we made.”

              “Oh, don’t worry about that,” the man said. “I was involved in the design of this park. I know this place like the back of my hand. Here take hold. I’ll lead you out. Get your family, too. Getting through the first part of this little tunnel is the hard part, but after that it’s easy.”

              Crawling on their hands and knees, the man could see his wife struggling. As he was behind her, he could hear her complaints about the jagged rocks and the cold. “Keep going, honey,” he said, “you can do it.”

              “Oh, look, the tunnel is getting bigger,” she said, with a glimmer of hope in her voice. Lifting herself up to her feet, yet still in a crouched position, she struggled forward, urging her small children ahead of her to keep going.

              Blinking heavily and shielding their eyes, they finally stood to full height and started walking faster toward the light at the opposite end. “I don’t remember this cave being so curvy,” she said. “I thought we just walked straight in.”

              “You did walk straight in,” the man in the front said. “But things have a way of changing and our memories tend to get foggy. But keep following me and I’ll get you out of here.”

              It was then that a blast of warm air hit them, and they stepped into the full sunshine.

              “Oh honey, kids, look, it’s the garden. We made it,” she said. They all stood, basking in the sunshine and the beauty. “You kids won’t remember this, but your father and I used to live here.”

Reclusion

 

The old man lay on the mattress all alone. This place had been his home for nearly six decades and the memory foam held him like an old friend. His vision had slightly dimmed, and his glasses had grown thicker over the years. Bookshelves filled every empty wall space and any flat surface held up chest high stacks of academic works, most obscure and of little interest to most.

He thought back over the years and instead of wondering, instead of sadness or regret, he only wished that he had more time. He was always seen as the grumpy old man that no one liked but he knew full well that this idea was not at all accurate. There was nothing grumpy about him, pensive possibly and certainly ashamed of his many sins. But no one else knew, as far as he knew. Maybe others saw things that he didn’t see, but there was nothing he could do about that. The connection just wasn’t there.

There was a small box on the top shelf in his closet, underneath his sweaters. It was here he kept his emotions. Ridiculously small tools that offered very little value to him. “An emotional response is, by definition, a non-thinking response,” he would often think and occasionally say. Not that anyone hardly ever spoke to him. Most were more concerned with their social media accounts and inane chit-chat.

“Why is it so cold in here?” he thought. “And why are my feet always cold?” was his second thought. Crawling under his covers, though fully clothed, he was determined to warm up. The gas fireplace was set to seventy-two and yet his feet were cold. His belly was full but his eyes were tired.

As he lay in a state of half sleep and half wake, he thought back over the many people he had come to know but sadly, most of them had been left behind as life moved on. Maybe it was his demeanor, maybe it was the lack of expressive emotion but whatever it was, no one ever had been close to him. Even his children that he loved more than life itself seemed to have moved on. He didn’t understand it. He would have done anything for them. He just didn’t know what they wanted or if he did, he couldn’t understand it.

As he lay there right on the cusp of drifting off to sleep, like a lightning bolt, he was suddenly awake. He could hear so much laughter, so much joy. Someone or someones, somewhere were having an awfully good time. Feeling somewhat perturbed by being so suddenly awakened by such thoughtless individuals, he crawled out of bed and moved to his window.

“What the…” he thought. “Why are there so many people out and about at this time of night?”

Turning to slip back under the covers, he realized that he was no longer cold, not even his feet. Looking up, two men walked into his bedroom.

“Excuse me,” he demanded. “What are you doing in my house?”

“Hello old friend,” one of the men said. “We’re here to bring you to the party. It is for you, after all.”

“A party? For me?” he asked. “Whatsoever for?”

“Oh, my dear friend, today is a very special day,” the other answered. “But instead of talking about it, why don’t we just step outside and join in. That would be so much better.”

Reaching out an arm and embracing him in a side hug, one of the men began moving him toward the large sliding glass door. He didn’t have his glasses on, and he would have sworn that the door was closed but they passed through the opening and joined a warm summer barbeque in the backyard. An oatmeal stout was slipped into his hand as well as a jalapeno-popper and he began seeing many, many familiar faces.

Moving from one group to the next, he realized that he had hugged more people in the last ten minutes than he had in the last ten years. His demeanor had completely changed, and he felt like the joy was about to burst out of him. Turning around, he looked into the bedroom window and realized someone was in his bed. Moving closer to the glass, he realized it was a very old man with gray hair. “He looks kind of familiar,” he thought. “I never forget a face but names, not so much.”

“Hey, buddy, catch,” he heard someone call out. Turning toward the sound, he immediately caught a football. A young man with long blonde hair had thrown a long pass from far across the yard. “Hey, send it back,” he called out again.

Feeling remarkably robust, he gave the ball and toss and hit his target spot on. Still holding his stout, he took a drink and then realized that the building, the bedroom window and the sliding glass door were now, somehow far, far away. There were more people around him than he could count and somehow, he knew them all and they all seemed so happy to see him.

The longer he mingled with these long-lost friends, he found himself thinking less and less about his cold feet and his aching hips, not that either of those were a problem any longer. Sitting down on the grass, almost immediately a little old man sat down with him. “Hello brother,” the old man said. “I’ve been praying for you for a long, long time. I am so happy to see you. I knew eventually this day would come. Life has a funny way of bringing people together.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” he said, “you do look very familiar, but I can’t put a name to the face.”

“That’s all right,” the old man said. “Names really aren’t that important. Just think of me as the best friend you’ve ever had.”

It was then that he realized the old man was speaking to him in Russian. “You’re speaking in Russian,” he said. “I know I’ve studied it a bit but honestly I’m surprised that I can understand you. It’s quite thrilling actually.”

“Ha, that’s funny,” the old man said, standing up. “I’m sure we’ll be spending a lot of time together as time goes by. But I need to run right now. There is someone else I need to connect with while the party is still going on. I’m so glad to see you, my friend.”

Looking at his watch, he realized that he had lost track of time. Turning to go back to the apartment, he saw that the building was completely gone. All around him were only good friends, jalapeno poppers and a rousing game of volleyball. Feeling particularly vigorous, he joined in.

The rhythm of the game was starting to flow when he realized that there was no sun in the sky. Stopping in mid swing, the ball bounced off his head, eliciting a chuckle from a teammate. “Wow, someone started thinking about something else,” the other player said.

“Yeah, sorry,” he answered. “I just realized that I don’t see the sun.”

“Sure, it takes a little getting used to,” he said. “But there is really no need for it.” Just as he answered, a bell sounded. “Oh, hey, I guess this party is over.”

“What? Over? I feel like it just started,” he said.

“Oh, this is only the beginning,” he answered. “Here, help us pack up. The really big party starts in about an hour. You are gonna love this.”

Chasing Colors

 

            Alexey was thirty years old and the company’s most successful stockbroker to date. Profiting north of 1.2 million the previous year, he was aiming for two the current year and was, much to his delight, on track to meet that goal. Stepping in the corporate elevator on the 17th floor, he admired himself in the mirrored wall and marveled at just how handsome he was. “I don’t blame Narcissus a bit,” he thought, “when a guy’s got it, he’s got it.”

              The elevator stopped at the 9th floor and Cassandra stepped in and stood next to him. “Hello, Alexey,” she said with a smile. “Got any plans this weekend?”

              Even though he could have any woman he wanted, his heart always beat faster when Cassandra spoke to him. 

              “Actually,” he said, “I’m taking a couple extra days off at the start of next week, so I’ll get a long weekend.”

              “So, the question still stands, do you have any plans this weekend?” she asked again.

              That was one thing that he really liked about her. She was not afraid to speak things straight. She was strong and opinionated and feared no man. “So, to answer your question, yes, I’m taking a short trip to Greece. I fly out Friday night.”

              “Greece? Cool,” she said. “So, I’ll see you on Wednesday then? Have a good time Alexey.” And with that the elevator doors slid open, and she walked out, with Alexey staring at her backside. 

              “Uh, bye, Cassandra,” Alexey croaked out, “see you Wednesday.”

              Exiting the building and climbing into his Bentley, he drove home with Cassandra on his mind. As he passed through downtown, he, on a whim, pulled to the curb and sat watching people. “So many people,” he thought. “I wonder if any of them are as smart and as talented as I am. I can almost guarantee that none of them are as rich as I am.”

              He got out of his car and stepped onto the sidewalk, leaning against the hood with his arms folded. It was then that he saw the old man, sitting cross legged on the sidewalk against a half wall in front of a jewelry store. The man sat, motionless, his eyes closed, and his hands folded in his lap, smiling.

              “Well, that’s odd,” Alexey thought to himself. The man seemed to be doing nothing and he certainly wasn’t begging, for he had no cup in front of him and he had no interaction with those passing by. He continued to watch him and then the man suddenly opened his eyes and looked directly at him.  Standing up, the man walked over and shook his hand.

              “Hello Alexey,” he said. “Is everything okay?”

              “Uh… how do you know my name?” he asked.

              “It would be very difficult to explain and honestly, I don’t think you could understand anyway. I know you are a very intelligent and talented man, but this is something different altogether.”

              “Oh really,” Alexey answered. 

              “Yes, I only speak the truth,” the man answered. “You may have more money than you know what to do with and I have almost nothing. But I am at perfect peace and am in harmony with all creation. I believe that you cannot say the same. Tell me that I’m wrong.”

              The two men stood in silence looking at one another. The man was smiling, and Alexey felt empty. He knew the man was right, but he didn’t want to admit it. “Here,” the man said, handing him a slip of paper. “Go to this website, read what it has to say. If you want to find the kind of joy I’m talking about. Try out what they are saying. You may be surprised to see how different life can be.”

              “Goodbye Alexey,” the man said as he turned and walked away.

              Sitting at his desk later that evening, he pulled the slip of paper from his pocket and typed in the address. “Well, damn, that’s weird,” he thought. “What are the odds of that?” Staring at the screen, he saw that this organization was based in Greece only minutes from the hotel at which he had reservations for that weekend. “Well, I guess I’ll add that to my itinerary Saturday.”

              As he sat on the plane on his return flight, he tried to piece together all that had happened in the last four days. “There is no logical explanation for any of this,” he thought. “There is no way that old guy could have known my name. There is no way he could have known that I was going to Greece and there is no way that the other old guys at that weird little business could have known anything about me.”

              He sat thinking about the peace these men emanated. He had never seen such happiness and contentment in his life and he certainly had never felt like that before. Closing his eyes, he tried some of the techniques the old men had talked about and he could feel the stress in his neck melting away. 

              On the walk through the airport and on the drive home, he could think of nothing but the poverty in which these men lived but the absolute peace and contentment they possessed. Standing in the midst of his living room surrounded by beauty and opulence, he couldn't help but feel shallow and selfish. Pulling a blanket from the closet, he spread it out in the middle of the living room, the hardest surface he could find, granite. “If old guys can do it, so can I,” he told himself.

              A decade had passed, and Alexey found himself standing in the same place that he had first met the old man on the sidewalk.

              “Hello Alexey,” he heard from behind him. The old man had come up behind him. “I see that you changed your path. This is very good. The life that you have ahead of you will be more amazing than anything you could’ve ever imagined.”

              “Oh, I know that already,” he answered. “I’ve begun to embrace your way of life for the last ten years now and I think I’m beginning to understand.”

              Another decade had passed, and Alexey stepped out of his front door to a world he didn’t understand. Patches of color hung around every object and seemed to shift with his attention and interaction. Pulling out his phone, he called his boss. “Jerry, yeah, it’s Alexey. I think I’m going to take the day off today. Sorry for the late notice, but I’ve got this incredible urge just to get away for the day. Thanks, see you tomorrow.”

              Slipping back inside, he changed into his workout gear and began to walk around the city, observing the colors. It was then that he began to notice the colors surrounding people as well. The more he interacted and focused on the colors, the more he came to understand them. Calling into work the next day as well, he began to make changes in the colors by his focus. Kind words and friendly interaction seemed to change the blacks and grays to lighter shades. He began to notice as well that he could shift the colors around and group them, pushing the darkness away.

              Now he understood. Sitting down at his desk that evening, he drafted his letter of resignation and emailed it to his boss. Alexey now had a new focus in life. His former life had given him this opportunity and making a radical change in his lifestyle would allow for the freedom to live on his savings for the next two hundred years. His days were spent manipulating colors and his nights were spent in meditation and a small amount of sleep.

              Seven months had passed and as he sat eating breakfast, a knock sounded on his door. Pulling it open, he saw no one but only an envelope pressed into the space between the glass and the frame. “Alexey,” it read, “your change in lifestyle has not only changed you but it is changing the world as well. Continue on your path and you will see wonderful things take place.”

There was no signature or return address. Just a handmade envelope sealed with a dab of wax.

              “Wow, wax,” he thought. “What is this? The Middle Ages?” Knowing full well the sender, he could only feel encouraged and wondered what was next to come. 

              The next day, another letter arrived but this one contained a newspaper clipping of a boy inexplicably recovering from cancer. The next day, a clipping of a terrible high-rise fire from which all the occupants escaped. The next day told news of a hurricane that suddenly changed course and bypassed an entire town, sparing thousands.

              Opening the door at the same time the next day, he found nothing. “I think I get it now,” he thought. Walking downtown, he sat on the sidewalk and leaned against a brick wall in front of a jewelry store and closed his eyes. As he opened them, he saw a man in an expensive suit leaning against his sports car.

              Standing up, he approached the man. “Hello Roger, is everything all right?”

The Party to Which Harold was Invited

 

It took Harold an hour-long drive each way to his secret practice room. Though he lived in a safe part of town, he deliberately drove to the nearly abandoned industrial district to practice his violin. He knew, deep down, that he was no good at all and had no talent but his love for music drove him to practice and create. 

Parking his car in an alley behind a dumpster, he triple checked his rear view mirror to ensure that no one had followed him or even saw him pull into this alley. Taking a deep breath, he grabbed his violin and climbed out of the car, slipping through a partially open door just ahead of him further down the alley. Sliding a metal bar through the handle to make sure that no one would sneak up on him, he stepped over piles of abandoned machinery and into the small janitor closet. It was the one room with a working light bulb. 

Setting up his music stand, he carefully tuned the violin and began to play. He could feel the tingles run up and down his spine as he glided through the piece by Vivaldi. This one was his favorite and nearly brought him to tears every time played it. It was the sudden feeling of the small hairs on the back of his neck that caused him to pause.”Someone is watching me,” he thought. Slowly turning around, he saw no one but then looking at the floor, he caught sight of a small rat, standing on its back legs, watching him, apparently transfixed by the music. 

The rat, upon seeing Harold’s attention, dropped to all fours and ran away. Starting the piece again, he got halfway through and could feel a set of eyes upon him. Continuing to play, he looked to the floor again and this time saw two small rats entranced by the music. 

An hour later and with sore fingertips, he gathered his things and returned to his car for the hour-long drive back to his home. As he walked through the front door, he met his brother Gregory coming down the stairs. “Hey Harold, good news,” Gregory said. “I was just leaving campus today and I noticed a new notice on the community bulletin board. The community orchestra is holding auditions this weekend. You should go check it out. You are really, really good.”

“Ah, man, I don’t know,” Harold answered. “I think you’re the only person that thinks so.”

“Well, duh,” Gregory answered. “That’s because you won’t play for anyone. No one has the chance to hear you. I have to sneak around to get to hear you play. I’m serious. You are really good. Promise me you’ll give it a shot.”

Feeling a knot in his stomach, Harold coughed a couple times. “I don’t know Gregory,” he said. “I just don’t know if I’m up to it.”

“Don’t be silly,” he answered. “Of course you are. You are better than anyone I’ve heard around here. You won’t have any problem winning a place in the orchestra. Please, give it a shot. It’s not right to hide your talent.”

Harold started up the open staircase and stopped part way up. Looking at the hand painted portraits on the wall next to him, he knew he came from a long line of musicians. Six generations hung before him and he could feel himself getting clammy. Reaching the top of the stairs, he walked the wood paneled hallway all the way to the end. Closing his bedroom door behind him, he slid his violin under his bed and lay back, exhausted after the long practice and the long drive.

He had just begun to drift off into sleep, when a sudden knocking on his door jarred him awake. “Harold,” Gregory called out, poking his head into the bedroom, “Dad is having some important people over for dinner, so we’ll be eating in the formal dining room tonight. Mom wants us to dress up a bit.”

“Ugh, okay,” Harold answered, “great, company, you know I just love social settings.”

With a chuckle, Gregory shut the door and Harold could hear him walking away back down the hallway. Sitting up and swinging his feet over the edge of the bed, he left his room and walked down to the library. Closing the door behind him, he walked to the center of the room and slowly turned in a circle, marveling at the thousands of books that filled the shelves, floor to ceiling. Hopping on the ladder, he gave himself a push and rolled to the far end of the room. 

Stepping off the ladder, he ran his fingers along the row of books in front of him but then stopped. At the end of the shelves, just before they met the adjoining wall, he noticed a small door. “What the heck?” he thought. “Why have I not seen this door before?” Carefully turning the knob and pushing the door open, he saw only darkness. Sitting on the floor, he crossed his legs in front of him and stared into the darkness. 

“Oh, hey, there you are,” Gregory called out as he walked into the library. “What are you doing?”

Quickly looking toward the main door, he glanced back at the newly discovered small door only to see that it no longer occupied the space at the end of the shelf. “Oh nothing,” he answered. “I just felt like a change of setting. I like being here.”

“Okay, well, whatever,” Gregory answered. “Anyway, dinner is in an hour, so make sure you’re ready.”

Every day during the week, just before dinner, Harold would slip into the library and open the door, staring into the darkness. But it was on the fourth day that he could feel something different taking place. As he opened the door, it was no longer darkness but a brilliant white light that poured from the opening. Initially taken back, he could feel something urging him to step forward. He took a step toward the door when a elderly man appeared. “Hello Harold,” the man said. “I am so happy that you found this place. But you cannot come in yet. What I can tell you is that you need to start playing your music for the world to hear. You have a special gift.”

“How… how do you know my name?” Harold asked. “And who are you?”

“We are connected,” the man answered, “in ways that you cannot now understand. My name is Andrew and I have been with you from the moment you were born.”

“So, why am I just now meeting you?” Harold asked.

“There is always an appropriate time for things,” Andrew answered. “Don’t worry about timing. What you do need to be concerned with is your music. Promise me that you’ll try out for the orchestra this weekend. This will be a pivotal moment for you.”

Harold stepped away from the door and sat down on the piano bench. Looking back, he realized that the door was gone, and he sat in silence. Trembling, he poked at the keyboard, his mind racing as fast as his heart. “Play his music for the world?” he thought. “I can’t do that. I’m no good.”

“Oh Harold,” he heard his mother call from the doorway. “You need to stop telling yourself that. Everyone in this family knows how incredible an artist you are. You really should let the world hear you.”

“Geez, Mom, you startled me,” he said. “You say everyone in this family knows that but I never hear Dad say that sort of thing.”

“Well, if he doesn’t say it to you, he should. But I promise you he has said it to me many, many times. He is very impressed with your talent and creativity.”

“Okay, mom,” Harold answered. “If you say so.”

Harold crawled out of bed on Saturday morning and sat in the kitchen eating oatmeal in silence.

“Hey, there you,” Gregory said, as he burst into the kitchen. “Finish up your breakfast. The auditions start in an hour. I’ll drive you down there if you want. You have to show off your talent. I’m telling you, this is a sure win for you.”

Suddenly no longer hungry, Harold agreed and returned to his room to get dressed. Sitting on the stage of the performance hall ninety minutes later, he heard his name called. Trying very hard not to tremble, he climbed the steps and sat down on the single chair near the front of the stage.

“So young man,” the director said, “what will you be playing for us today?”

“I’ll be playing a piece by Vivaldi,” Harold answered, trying to control the tremble in his voice. With no sheet music before him, Harold took out his instrument, quickly tuned it and closed his eyes, playing the piece from memory.

As he finished, the room sat in absolute silence. “Oh great,” Harold thought, “I must really suck.” Opening his eyes, he realized that the director and the other three judges all sat with their mouths open. He even saw a tear drop from her eye. As he put his instrument away, the four judges rushed onto the stage, shaking his hand in turn. 

“Oh Harold, that was absolutely beautiful,” she said. “Why have we never heard of you before?”

With a nervous laugh, Harold tried to answer without throwing up. “I.. I’m not really that good. I mainly just play for myself,” he said.

“Well, that, young man, is going to change today,” she said. “We would love to have you take first chair in the Bowville Chamber Orchestra. Please accept.”

From his seat on the stage, Harold could see the wide smile of his brother all the way in the back of the hall. Pumping his fist in the air, Gregory gave him two thumbs up.

Answering before he could spend too long thinking about it, Harold accepted the offer.

“Oh, that’s wonderful,” she said. “We have practice Monday night at seven o’clock pm, right here. We look forward to having you join us.”

The next day, just before dinner, Harold stood in the library and opened the small door in the corner. Andrew immediately approached from the other side. “Congratulations Harold,” Andrew said. “I told you that they would love you. This is a very important step for you. You are going to change the world.”

“Oh, geez, don’t say that,” Harold answered. “That is way too much pressure for a guy like me. How about I just think of this as a different place to practice? I think I can do that.”

“Very well,” Andrew answered. “I think that is a fine place to start. Here, come close and place your arm through the doorway.”

“Hm, okay,” Harold said. Walking up to the edge of the doorframe, he reached out his right arm into the light. As he did, he realized that everything around him in the library, the books, the shelves, the piano and even the carved wood turned black and white, like an old-fashioned movie.

Jerking his arm back, he stepped back from the doorframe. “Whoa, what the heck was that?” he asked.

“I just wanted you to see the difference between my world and yours,” Andrew answered. “Things aren’t always what they seem.” With a smile and a small wave, Andrew closed the door and it immediately disappeared. 

Harold’s world radically changed in the next few weeks. He began to make connections and friends as he joined the orchestra. He marveled at the beauty of playing music with others and the glory of what they could create. But always in the back of his mind, he wondered about his experience with Andrew. 

As the days and weeks passed, Harold found himself spending more and more time in the library, standing at the door and staring into the light. The more time he spent, the more detail he could see as he looked into the world on the other side of the frame. He began to see others as well, more and more people were in that place, all of them very happy and interacting. His own world around him began to take on less and less appeal. 

His time in the library became an excuse to slip his arm into the new world. The first two times, he did simply as Andrew had told him. But then he began placing both arms into the light. He began inching his toes into the doorframe. As he drew closer and closer, he began to hear music, music so incredibly beautiful and moving, his heart ached within him. He could hear talking and laughter. He could smell incredible scents, like a massive rose garden.

At the end of the first month of daily visitation, Andrew approached him as he stood with his feet halfway into the light and both of his arms extended. “I think you may be ready, Harold,” Andrew said. Taking hold of both his hands, Andrew looked into Harold’s eyes and smiled. A warm tingle swept over him like he had never experienced before. “This is like Vivaldi, but a thousand-fold,” he said. 

“Ah, yes, Antonio Vivaldi,” Andrew said. “He too understood the beauty of this world. If you love his music. You will love being here as well. But come back tomorrow at the same time. I’ll have a surprise for you.”

Harold lay in bed that evening, his eyes wide and his mind racing at the possibilities of the next day. At six am, on that Sunday morning, Harold leapt out of bed and ran downstairs, still in his bed clothes. Running into the library, he found only shelves and books. Somewhat disappointed but knowing full well that it was far too early, he slipped into the kitchen and ate his breakfast. 

Every hour as the day passed, Harold would slip into the library and check the corner. Finally, when five that afternoon came around, he knew what he would find. Entering the library and closing the door behind him, he approached the small door in the corner. Swinging it open, the brilliant white light filled the library, and a massive crowd filled the space, as far as he could see. 

“We are all here for you, Harold,” Andrew said, standing smiling at the front of the crowd. “That world no longer has anything for you. Are you ready?”

Harold approached the crowd and stuck out both hands. Andrew and another man gently took hold of him and welcomed him in. Stepping fully into the light, it was as if an explosion had gone off in his head. Everything became so real, so beautiful and so overwhelmingly wonderful. Walking through the huge crowd of people, he could feel nothing but joy and love as they all greeted him. He was hugged by more people than he could count, and he could feel his tension, his stress and his fear all melt away.

Looking out across the endless world that lay before him, he could see so many things, so many people but it was the joy that stirred him the most. He had never experienced such joy and love as he did there. Turning around, he realized that the doorway was gone.

“Yes, that doorway is gone,” Andrew said. “But you’ll come to realize that this world and that world are really the same thing but only from a different perspective. Don’t worry though, you and I will explore this, and you will come to understand it all.”

Harold slowly walked around his new world and thought about all that Andrew had said. “This world and that world are the same…hmm. If that’s true then I should be able to be there and be here as well. I wonder what that looks like?” Laying down on the grass, he stared up into the bluest sky he had ever seen. A few puffy white clouds but no sun or moon. He sat up on his elbows and looked as far off into the distance as he could, yet he saw no mountains, no oceans, only beautiful rolling hills and people. 

“Hello there,” a voice called out from behind him. Turning around, he made eye contact with a beautiful young woman. “My name is Candace,” she said. “I think you just arrived. Am I right?”

“Yes, that’s right,” Harold answered. “How did you know?”

“Newcomers always have that look of wonder and awe at first and they also tend to sit quietly alone for a time,” she answered. “But don’t worry, the wonder and awe never fade away but you’ll find that spending time with others only adds to the beauty and joy of this place.”

“How long have you been here?” he asked.

“Honestly, I don’t know,” she answered. “Time doesn’t really flow here and after a while, the desire to visit the other side diminishes as well. I didn’t think it would but this world and all these people are so wonderful. The sadness and darkness of the old world has really lost its appeal.”

“Well, it was nice talking to you, Candace,” he said. “I think there is something I need to do right now.” Standing up, Harold made his way back toward the spot he entered this new world. Smiling and waving at more people than he could count, he was momentarily distracted by a small chamber quartet playing the most beautiful music he had ever heard. “This is really wonderful,” he said to another man standing nearby. “I’ve never heard this piece before. Is this Bach?”

“Bach? Oh no,” the man said. “This is an original piece. They all are. I’ve been enjoying this quarter for as long as I can remember and every day they have something new. Are you a musician?”

“Yes, yes, I am,” Harold answered. “Maybe someday I’ll have a chance to play as well.”

“I think that would be wonderful,” the man said. “All you need to do is start. We are all drawn to beauty.”

“Hey, I have a question,” Harold said. “Andrew told me that this world and the old world are the same world, just from a different perspective. How do I see the old world, if I wanted to?”

“Oh, Andrew didn’t explain it to you?” he said. “Simply find a doorway, take hold of the knob, close your eyes and think of where you want to see. When you walk through, you’ll be there. But you should understand, everyone that you left behind won’t be able to see you. After a time, you’ll be able to leave small hints, little interactions, and clues to those still there. Sometimes they’ll see them but sometimes they don’t. It depends on the person. Honestly, I did that sort of thing for a while but after a time, around forty days, the appeal really wears off. Like eating corn dogs when you have all the prime rib and lobster you could want. Well, good luck.”

Harold walked off and began wandering, not really knowing where to go or where to even begin looking for a door. After a time, he finally found one and, grabbing hold of the doorknob, thought about the kitchen at home. Opening his eyes, he pushed the door open and found himself standing in the doorway to the kitchen. His mother stood at the sink, staring out the window. It was then that an idea came to mind. Approaching the small radio on the counter, he turned on his favorite piece by Vivaldi. His mother quickly turned and looked at the radio.

“How… what happened?” she said. “This is Harold’s piece of music.” She stood in silence and listened to the music, eventually sliding down to a sitting position, leaning against the cupboards. Harold stood and watched his mother for a long time. He reached out to touch her but realized that his efforts were futile. Walking back through the kitchen door, he returned to his new world and seeing Andrew, embraced him in a full hug.