ISOF Read Free

related to each other, sitting easily together and confident that they knew what their purpose was even if no one else did.
    Amongst the shapes one object stood out. Right in the middle of the landscape sat a large, gnarled oak door. There was nothing else, just the door. You could walk around the door, look at both sides, examine the edges, search for the non-existent keyhole or letterbox and be totally bemused. There, standing upright and with no walls, windows or roof to support it, was a door.
    The door would have been considered odd if there were people around to stand looking at the door and thinking ‘that’s odd!’ But, fortunately, no one ever wandered around the arid landscape in search of solitary doors or anything else for that matter. Apart from a few rocks of no geological interest and the occasional clump of nondescript grass there was nothing to wrinkle the most curious of imaginations … or so it seemed.
    In the sunless stillness, a barely audible wheeze floated across the night as the door opened slowly allowing a finger of grey light to search the darkness. Gradually a bony hand protruded into the night sky, its moist index finger pointing towards the sky where the sun should have been. For a moment the finger remained motionless, then made a curious little circular movement, paused briefly, and then disappeared. The slither of grey light withdrew and darkness became total once more.
    After a short time the door eased itself open and, again the hand poked at the darkness. Raising its palm, the hand appeared to be waiting expectantly for something to be dropped into it. After a few seconds stillness, the hand turned itself upside down, formed a fist and withdrew itself behind the door. Stillness descended once again.
    Just as the night was settling down for a prolonged rest, a slow, repetitive noise began to disturb the air. Gradually, the sound crept over the landscape, causing a few stalks of grass to move in rhythm with the noise. Suddenly, the reverberations stopped. Then as silence began to descend once again, a throaty groan echoed through the night quickly followed by the gentle whistle of air as the night arced across the sky allowing sunlight to take its place.
    For a third time the oak door opened, the cupped hand extended and appeared to be waiting for something to happen. After a moment’s hesitation, and apparently satisfied that the sky wasn’t crying, the hand made a dismissive wave and withdrew behind the door again.
    Gradually, a gentle padding sound could be heard coming from behind the door, almost as if someone was running up stairs in an over-sized pair of slippers. Slowly, the
‘pad, pad, slap’
sound become louder, the door suddenly flew open and a pair of scrawny legs appeared wearing a pair of bright orange, over-sized carpet slippers. The door closed silently leaving the slippers standing in the sand while a pair of legs twitched in the morning sun. To any casual spectator, there was nothing wrong with the scene by the door providing the eyes didn’t travel much further than the knee caps that jutted out from the legs like table-tennis balls. The problem arose if the wandering eye looked above the knees. Apart from a few grey hairs loitering on equally pale thighs, there was nothing more to see except for a scrunched-up bundle of red material that could easily be mistaken for a pair of shorts. The slipper-clad legs stood still for a moment, twitched once more, trembled violently and then sneezed.
    â€œArppshoo! Arppshoo!”
    As the second sneeze echoed across the landscape, the red material began to unfold to reveal a pair of gnarled hands wriggling free from the confines of the cloth. The hands stretched out towards the sky and, as they reached out for the sun, a head and chest unfolded to reveal the figure of what was a gaunt looking man.
    With a quick wipe of his nose with the back of his hand, the man reached into the pocket of his shorts