Just My Luck

What are the odds that my first day at a new job would begin my fantasy journey? I had no answers to this except to say that I’m not even surprised. That’s how my luck usually ran. Things didn’t happen normally for me like the next person. When my class in middle school went on a trip to the zoo, guess who, among three scores of students was chosen to take a picture with the huge gorilla, me. And guess who got her scarf stolen and was, in the same measure given a scalp-tearing yank on the head? Exactly.

Ever since my last job three years back where I was fired because I couldn’t “show love to the superiors,” it had been more than difficult securing another job. And after the first year passed without it I was willing to do anything. So far as it was legal and within my moral compass. The next couple of years flew with me doing all jobs. Gardening, cleaning, babysitting, you name it. But none of them was permanent. Then finally, almost when I lost hope, a security job. And not just at any place, a museum. I loved artworks. And the pay was decent. It was a win-win.

I walked into McDowell’s Art Museum by 5.45 pm for my night shift that started at 6 pm.

“A good day to you Mr. Maxwell” I smiled brightly at the other security guard.

“Hmmmmph,” he grunted. At my first introduction to my most cheerful colleague, I got the impression that he wasn’t really the chatty type. Did that dampen my spirits? No. Did it also mean that I wouldn’t still try to strike up a conversation? A big no too.

“It’s a wonderful weather today, isn’t it?” I tried again. But I got another grunt as a response. He kept looking at his watch and by six pm at the dot, he tossed the keys to me and stalked off without as much as a goodbye. Prude.

The museum soon cleared out and five hours later, I was still making my rounds around the museum, steaming cup of coffee in hand. I decided to utilize the opportunity to admire the beautiful artworks. There were murals and beautiful paintings of people. I didn’t know the artsy terminologies for most of them but it didn’t hurt to look right?

I came across a painting that made me stop. It was a painting of a doorway. Nothing else. Just a doorway. I wrinkled my nose in displeasure. Some people really don’t have fun imaginations. It didn’t bother me that someone would just paint a doorway than the fact that it even made it to such a renowned museum in the first place. Oh well, I thought as I passed it to something else. They at least got money from it.

“Brrrrnggggg!” I heard the distant toll of the bell from the new Church a few blocks away. It was midnight already. How time flew. I moved towards my desk out front. Digging my satchel for my headphones, I figured it was time to listen to some cheery music to pass time. Suddenly, I heard it. Giggles. I had my headphones in already and promptly removed them. There was silence. I shrugged. Must have heard wrong.

I was just about putting them back in when I heard it again. More giggles and snickers.

“Lord,” I whispered, lifting my head heavenward. “I don’t need this right now, Sir. I really don’t.”

I flicked on the switch of my trusty flashlight and steadily made my way in the direction of the noise. As I turned the corner, fighting the tremor of fear that threatened to paralyze me, I gasped. The doorway painting. Creatures were leaping out of it. Flying things, dancing and having a merry time as they got seated at what looked like a dinner table. By golly, it was a full-blown party.

They didn’t seem to notice me yet and went right about chatting and feeling at home. I was quite sure that I had somehow slept and was now in a bizarre dream, so I decided to play along and make my presence known.

“Ahem.” I cleared my throat. The chattering and giggling continued so I cleared my throat and stomped my feet for good measure. A dozen beady eyes turned to me and I gasped, uncertain now that I had their attention. They began speaking at once.

“Who is this?”

“What happened to the other grumpy goat?”

“Why does this one have a funny-looking face?”

I scowled when I heard that last part. “Hello. That’s rude. I’m literally right here. Who are you people? And why are you here? And for Pete’s sake, how did you come out from a fluffing painting?”

They responded by erupting into guffaws that seemed too loud for such tiny creatures.

“oh, humans!” exclaimed one while wiping a tear. “Forever clueless.”

I bristled at their mocking looks but didn’t say a word.

“You can join us if you want.” Another invited.

I beamed and sat down cross-legged at one end of their little table. They looked so little like the fairies in Barbie cartoons but I didn’t mind. They promptly began their discussion while eating fruits from their little bowls. They offered me some and I smiled in gratitude.

As they talked, I learnt that they were from a place called Neverland. They were all workers in a mean troll’s factory. They slaved there for hours and only had their free time when the cunning old hag was asleep(their words). They found a painting of a doorway one day in the attic of the factory and noticed that by midnight, they could enter through it. But they had to leave by dawn else the painting solidified till it was midnight again.

I listened to everything in awe. I was still positive that I was dreaming but it was such a wonderful dream. I never wanted to wake up. I talked and laughed and partied with them till the clock indicated that it was 5 am and they made haste to leave. Just as they were leaving, I called out to them with hopeful eyes.

“Will you be here again, tonight?”

They beamed at me, nodded and hopped into the doorway painting which solidified after the last one went through. I whistled to myself as I went to one of the windows, watching the rising sun. I guess I didn't have such terrible luck after all.

Jhymi🖤

_{This is my entry to The Inkwell Fiction Prompt.}