Your Story #140

Prompt: Write a short story of 650 words or fewer based on the photo prompt above. You can be poignant, funny, witty, etc.; it is, after all, your story.

Email your submission to yourstorycontest@aimmedia.com with the subject line "Your Story 140."

No attachments, please. Include your name and mailing address. Entries without a name or mailing address with be disqualified.

Unfortunately, we cannot respond to every entry we receive, due to volume. No confirmation emails will be sent out to confirm receipt of submission. But be assured all submissions received before entry deadline are considered carefully. Official Rules

Entry Deadline: CLOSED.

Out of nearly 100 entries, WD editors chose the following 5 finalists. Vote for your favorite by using the comments section at the bottom of this article.

Cami Kazelle’s first college spring break was one bad decision after another. The petite freshman hailing from Ol’ Miss stood before a multi-colored portal that reminded her of the giant plastic containers of rainbow sherbert often found on the lowest shelf in the frozen dessert section at Winn-Dixie. The soft melody emanating from the colorful entrance added another element of mystery that set her on edge.

“What is this place and how did I get here?” she whispered to no one.

Camille “Cami” Kazelle enrolled at the University of Mississippi at the urging of her Ol’ Miss alumni mother, Sarah. William Kazelle would have preferred that his daughter and only child attend college closer to their home in Cape Girardeau, Missouri but knew that was a lost cause given Sarah’s passion for her alma mater. Cami joined Delta Delta Delta sorority and treasured her newfound sisters and budding friendships. She had grown close to two girls in particular, Janie Lewis and Emily Stockton. With spring break on the horizon, Cami, Janie and Emily laid plans for a trip to Cozumel to enjoy some fun in the sun for seven days. 

That decision is what led her to be standing barefoot at the threshold of this other-worldly portal. The three girls had enjoyed the lively vibe of Cozumel with beach fun during the day and clubbing at night. Bad decision number two started at the Happy Cat Beach Bar with shots of Patron tequila that went down far too easily. Cami was not a tea-toddler, but neither was she a heavy drinker. The tequila hit her hard. She let Janie and Emily know that she was going to step away for a few minutes to walk a bit and clear her head.

She strolled along the white sand beach with her bare feet skimming along the turquoise surf that gently rolled in. While standing knee deep in the lightly rolling surf, Cami caught a brief reflection of a small round object under the water that was partially buried under the drifting sand. She gingerly waded further into the water to see if this was another shell to add to her collection. Bending over to retrieve what appeared to be a colorful shell, Cami almost nose-dived into the water. She made a mental note to lay off the tequila for the remainder of spring break. She brought the object up out of the water and was pleasantly surprised to be holding an egg-shaped turquoise stone with bright red streaks marbled throughout. While admiring her lucky find she felt a warm sensation coming from the stone and was mesmerized by its beauty. As Cami lifted her eyes from the stone and took in her surroundings, she realized picking up the stone may have been bad decision number three. The beach was suddenly deserted as the sun set, lighting a bright orange hue on the horizon. The beach should have been standing room only with sunset watchers swarming the shore for the best view. The deserted beach was eerie enough, but the rainbow sherbert doorway was strange on a whole new level. As she stood before the shimmering colors, she suddenly recognized the soft tune drifting out. It was ‘The Rain, The Park, and Other Things’ sung by The Cowsills circa 1967. Her grandparents would have been rocking to this sweet tune in their hay day. The music had a soothing effect on Cami as she felt her fear and trepidation give way to curiosity.

Cami turned toward the deserted beach and wasted sunset before turning back to face the dizzying display of rainbow colors. A suddenly very sober Cami thought there was a mystery here and she had always loved a good mystery. She adjusted the right shoulder of her spaghetti strap dress and stepped through the colorful curtain of light.

Rene hesitated on the threshold. She could sense the tiny color particles enter her skin through her pores. They stung a bit but didn’t actually hurt when they entered her retinas, her breath. The Adjudicators had touted all the benefits of entering the chromasphere. “Experience life in full color. No age restrictions. Minors must be accompanied by an adult. Entrance appointments still available.” What the advertisements neglected to mention was that the chromasphere portal only worked in one direction. No one who entered could return to the monochromatic world. She had heard her parents speak about those who had made their decisions, gotten all their affairs in order, and then failed to follow through when it came time to enter the portal. They now lived small and ravaged lives in the monochromatic world, bitter over their own cowardliness. These who had been close enough to the portal when others entered reported they saw glimpses of the chromanauts before they disappeared into the colors. They gave no evidence of pain or fear, just a brief moment of flickering, and then gone.

What stopped most people from leaving their monochrome world to enter the chromasphere was that rumor, widely believed, that the cost of living in a colored saturated world was the loss of all black and white memories. Rene had heard her parents speak of older adults who had made the decision to leave their former selves behind and start a new and more expansive life in color, however long that new life might last. One of her own grandparents had made the decision to enter but had not yet booked an appointment. Twenty somethings were disappearing from around town, presumably into the portal on a grand adventure or perhaps only another example of underdeveloped frontal cortex. Married couples discussed their options, argued, asked other for advice. But who could really say with assurance what to do? Several people could not work up their courage until the last moment, peering into the portal and then bolting through. No one, not a single person, looked back.

Rene wanted to be brave, but felt the strong gravitational pull of familiarity. If she decided to go through with it, she wanted those left behind in the black and white world to remember how mature, how deliberate, her actions had been, how poised she appeared as she made her way to the appointment desk to check-in. Newly turned eighteen, she wondered just how much of a self she had to be erased. How difficult would it be to construct another self? Would she not have to do that anyway if she chose to grow into adulthood in the monochromatic world? Stepping into the portal she would simultaneously lose everything and nothing.

Seeking sanctuary from the world, I was enticed by the sea’s glorious distraction. Cresting the windswept dunes, the magnificence of relentless crashing waves compelled me forward. An irresistible mist on the breeze drew me closer.

I resisted, fearing what I would find, but I could not turn away.

The overwhelming vastness stretched to a glowing, yet unreachable horizon, and unknowable depths insisted I follow its mystery. What lurked below, or beyond the horizon? Curiosity overcame fear, and I waded in tentatively, the warmth drawing me further, forcing me to swim when my feet lost touch with the familiar sandy floor, until I finally experienced its depth.   

My legs were swept by the current, and the sea engulfed me. I kicked and lunged, the air pressed from my lungs, the light fading above into an ever-darkening ceiling.

 My feet found purchase on the floor of the sea, and I pushed mightily, struggling against my own weight, gravity, and the dragging current.

With one last thrust, I broke through and gasped for air.   Above, birds circled in chaos; their greedy cries fighting over a morsel given up by the sea, screeching, swooping, colliding in mid-air.  

I broke from the captivity of the sea, seeking only the solace of solitude. I ran until the sand hardened. Stale air, heavy with the tang of parched plants and baked dust, burned my lungs, and my eyes stung from the cutting grit carried by a screeching wind.

Emptiness stretched across a shattered desert floor; the gateway to hell loomed shrouded in a distant haze.

Heat rose from the shattered fissures below, wrapping me in sorrow, and the path ahead echoed the path I had traveled … until my past and future were inseparable.  

I summoned a cry through blistered lips and a stuck tongue, but the desert gathered my hopeless pleas and scattered them like grains of sand in the wind.

Through a shimmering veil of heat, a line of blue stretched across the horizon, and hope welled in my legs, giving them strength to rise and stumble, wishing the sea to return. But with every step, the sea receded.

I squeezed my eyes against the searing light, and when I opened them, the sea was gone.

Chirping rose from the firmament, and I craned my neck and shielded my eyes, and the sky filled with pulsing black specks and flashes of light, and my head spun in dizzying weightlessness, my breathing fast and my lungs unable to fill.

My eyes clenched shut. Was this the end?

When I opened them, colors flashed before me, so beautiful they were beyond any art conjured by man or nature. An opening in the emptiness hummed and vibrated as light swirled, and my skin tingled.

I understood a choice was required of me, but such a painful decision was beyond my strength.

The chirping grew louder, and through blurred eyes, shadows hovered around me, and subdued voices whispered urgently. Did I know them? Were they there to welcome me to the Beyond?

I wanted only to retreat into the warmth and softness of the bed underneath me and the sheets gently caressing my cold skin, but I knew I was meant to rise. 

My eyes opened; blinding light pierced into the folds of my brain, and I gasped for air, but found no voice.

Beyond the light, a voice pierced the veil around me.     

“You gave us quite a scare,” said a man in medical scrubs, holding her hand gently. 

What had I done this time?

When the objects first appeared across the world in various locations, it was assumed to be college kids playing a prank, or some rich artist making a statement. However, further investigation, and a few cameras caught the sudden appearance of several, with no sign of any frat brothers or a sculptor in a beret. Tests showed the videos had not been tampered with. The pillars simply appeared.

Teams of scientists across nations swarmed the various locations, using all of their fancy equipment from lasers to Lidar, to no avail. Nothing could penetrate it, read it, see inside it, or destroy it. Short of dropping a nuke on one, the structures stood their sentinel stations, unmoved.

Lydia, the highly skilled scientist from Cal-Tech, joined the team on the beach, spending many hours looking at the blank data returns. After weeks, interest began to wain, and Lydia found herself alone at sunset with the large rectangular object.

She stood in front, hands on hips, as if daring it.

“What are you?” She asked. “Where did you come from? And why are you here?” She often spoke aloud to herself, which is why she preferred solo lab work.

The form remained unchanged, the same as all the others. Large, rectangular, no deeper than ten inches, and shimmering like an old screen saver.

Lydia remembered the scree of her old computer back in the day when she could barely afford to put herself through school.

As she stood reminiscing, she found her eyes going out of focus as she looked inward and suddenly she could discern an image on the screen. It reminded her of the Magic Eye posters they used to sell in the mall. She wanted to focus on the image, but as soon as she did, it faded. She shifted her eyes back to the unfocused stare and the image returned.

She stepped forward and reached her hand out, touching the screen in a pattern only seen with the unfocused gaze, and was surprised when her hand slid into a void. She leaned forward and followed the pattern. The light grew brighter and the screen seemed to crack open.

Lydia did not hesitate, but stepped through.

Back on the beach an alarm sounded when they discovered Lydia was missing. A quick scan of security footage confirmed their worst fear. She had indeed broken some sort of code and stepped inside the thing, vanishing to who knows where.

Days went by as the media frenzy picked up on this new development. Reporters fired off questions to which no one had answers.

A week later, a loud crack sounded, and all turned to see Lydia stepping out of the rectangle as if she was stepping off a patio.

“Lydia—er, Dr. Simon I mean. Can you tell us what you learned? Where have you been?”

“Did you make contact with alien beings?”

“Have you found the answers to the meaning of life?”

Lydia threw her hand up to stop the onslaught of questions. Her eyes flashed, and her fingers shook as she took an offered mic. She nodded toward the Professor leading the team, then shook her head.

“You will not believe what I found. I am …”

“Speechless?”

“Spellbound?”

The news people could not seem to help themselves in offering her a variety of adjectives they were sure would fill the void.

“Furious!” She yelled, punching her fist against the top of her thigh. She turned and waved her hand dismissively toward the rectangle standing behind her on the beach.

“All it said once inside, is … ‘We’ve been trying to reach you about your car’s extended warranty.’”

Go to the Great Prism Void-door, said his note. I’ll be there with coffee and donuts.

Once again, Ross is a liar. Just like when he promised to pick up my niece from daycare and instead sat at Fat Wade’s Steakhouse with his football pals for three hours. Just like the time my car went missing and reappeared with a popped tire and gum stuck to its gas pedal and he knew nothing about it. Just like when he proclaimed to love me more than cherry pie and wandered out of my life after McDonald’s announced the return of their deep fried cherry pies for $3.65.

I learned to expect the unexpected ever since the evening he stubbed his toe really hard. His head began to glow–mirrors in our apartment cracked–the wine on the table boiled over. “!@*$%^&” he’d shouted, or something similar; a terrible word where he was from, and he apologized even though I couldn’t hear through the cosmic ringing in my ears.

My surprise lasted a short time. Mom always said I adjusted to things quickly. Ross exclaimed that I was the best Earth gal he’d ever met. “Should’ve pieced it together when you introduced yourself as Ross Well,” was my answer.

It explained a few things, like why I sometimes saw slime on his toothbrush, why he preferred his meat practically raw, and why he appeared to almost levitate when dunking a basketball. But it didn’t explain why he consistently left the toilet seat up. Or why he forgot our anniversary. Or why he watched Saving Private Ryan at two a.m.

Or why he disappeared so suddenly … and didn’t come back.

My friends were considerate and waited several weeks before asking where Ross had gone. “Cherry pie must be reaaaaal good,” I said, and they didn’t ask again.

Too many nights were spent wondering whether he’d been a dream or a nightmare. Expect the unexpected? I didn’t expect him to leave me with the classic, aching hole in my heart and a Californian apartment I could barely afford.

Even so, old habits do die hard. When I tilted a box of frozen breakfast burritos and an unfrozen package slid onto the plate, I was only mildly surprised. Inside were some iridescent flowers I’d never seen before–a McDonald’s cherry pie–and a note. A short note with a simple map in greenish ink that buzzed my hand when I touched it.

I wondered if I might be in for a bit of a showdown. An otherworldly one.

Go to the Great Prism Void-door.

“Liar,” I say into the wind. I’d driven to the stupid beach on his stupid map, paying almost four dollars per gallon, and found his door humming over dry and cracked sand. I’d even dressed up. And no Ross. No coffee or donuts. Just me in uncomfy shoes, salty air, and a prism void-door–a truly great one, no doubt.

My date for high school prom had been late because his mom’s car stalled. What is Ross’s excuse? I waver between just leaving, calling Fat Wade’s Steakhouse, and …

Well, why not? I step inside the door. Almost immediately I’m stopped, as if the colored lights had solidified.

A voice speaks. Or rather, it echoes–inside my head. Its tone seems suspicious, questioning.

“!@*$%^&” I shout.

The lights push me back, the voice making a clicking sound. The prism door vanishes. The beach and setting sun look to be in grayscale.

I leave his note, flowers, and cherry pie with a bite missing in the sand. Perhaps time moves differently for him. Perhaps he’d given me a clue and I’m too ignorant to see it. Or perhaps uncaring people simply exist across all time and space.

College, work, and the San Andreas Fault is enough chaos to have in my life. If I feel the want for more, I decide, I would just adopt a cat.