Rusty Doorknobs--Lot 40, House #268

As I disentangle myself from the Vines and Branches, I ask Wolf...What do you mean? What on Earth is happening here?

Wolf smiles his rather fearful grin, his teeth glinting a little in the Sunlight. 

You will see...he says...But only if you leave your Fear behind. Have I ever taken you on a journey which caused you harm?

I pick off a recalcitrant Vine, thinking back to some of the escapades on which Wolf had taken me.  All involved looking closely at some part of me he was not satisfied with...and while these did not harm, as such, each small sojourn did bring a rise in apprehension and anxiety.

Ruefully, I ask myself...Why should this journey be any different?

And with renewed Trust in Wolf...he is a messenger from the Gods and my Spirit guide, after all...I straighten my back and march to the door.

The door is made of heavy planks of Cedar.  Gargoyles have been carved at each corner, rather cleverly, I think...if I stare hard and long enough, each Gargoyle seems to move...

I tear my glance away.  The last thing I need at this moment is to engage with Gargoyles.


I focus on the doorknob.  In particular, I notice that it is in dire need of polishing.  When (or if!) I return to Blogland Lane, I vow to check the Employment Notice Board to see if I can hire a handy person.  One who is not afraid of travelling Vines!


The doorknobs are ornate, although I can't see the detail for the rust and tarnish.  Made of Iron, I believe each might be a depiction of a part of Wolf.  I shake my head, with some despair, and turn to look at Wolf.

Wolf is gone.  Of course he is. For some reason, I am to enter this fantastical abode alone...


My hand touches the knob, feeling its crenellated surface only fleetingly before, as if by some magical hand, the doors open slowly and silently.


I stand on the sill, staring into the gloom.  The entry area is dark, dusty.  The one window is covered with Vines and little light passes through.  For all the darkness and dust, the Air smells as fresh as the early Morning after a Rainstorm.


There is no furniture in this rather large room; the floors are covered in long, wooden planks.  With the dim light, it is difficult to make out how the walls of this room have been finished. I have an impression of dark, heavy, and carved wooden panels.


There is no Art on the walls that I can see; if, as my intuition is telling me, this House is to be mine, the first thing I will do is call Bliss Gallery, back on Blogland Lane.


It would be possible for me and my companions to live in only one room, in the beginning, at least; however, I could not be content in a room with no Art.


I see no interior door leading anywhere.What kind of home is this...I wonder...It looks far larger than only one room from the outside!


My eyes adjust to the dim light.  I make out an object in the far corner of the room, on the floor.


I wonder what it might be. It is dark, vaguely roundish...an odd shape... and looks slightly familiar.

As I move closer, heart in mouth...that entry door which opened so magically for me, just a short time ago, could also close, leaving me shut tight in this dark, gloomy room.


Standing as far away from the object as is possible, I squint, trying to make it out without moving closer.


It's...a...telephone?


Back in a mo...