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"Open the Window, Close the Door"
by John Payne
May 1999
From the window of his room on the fifth floor of The Elf Queen, a little man looked out upon the world. He was about four feet tall, stick skinny, and bald as a stone. His decidedly oriental face was adorned by a perpetual scowl and a bushy black goatee. He was dressed only in his underclothes, although it was a cold night. His name was Chisaibu, and he was not afraid of cold nights or of sickness. He was afraid of fog, though, and it was a foggy night. He closed the window shutters.
Chisaibu hopped back into his bed. The bed was a good one. In fact, it was probably one of the best beds in one of the best inns in the city of Red Moon. It didn't have big posts or a canopy because the little man had a paranoid's natural suspicions about curtains and canopies. He was also currently superstitious about the number four, and so he had worked hard to find a bed that didn't have four bedposts. This one had five, with the fifth between the usual posts at the foot of the bed. Chisaibu leapt onto the bed, and was nearly swallowed up by the thick, feather-stuffed mattress. It was enough to make Chisaibu feel positively decadent. He giggled. In addition to being soft as a cloud, the bed was also huge. It could comfortably fit eight or ten people his size. He came from a small race.
The room was likewise enormous, and as richly decorated with gold and silks. Even in his current extravagant mood, as he ran his eyes over the gold leaf and the wall tapestries, he realized he had spent entirely too much money for this room. Chisaibu had been spending entirely too much money for almost everything lately. This was probably why he was down to his last six Danse marks. He rubbed his bald head and thought about that for a while. He had paid in advance for the room, so he didn't have to worry about where to sleep. All the same, at the rate he was going, those last few coins would be gone before the end of the week for sure. If he really worked at it, he could be rid of them before dawn. He stroked his goatee, and scratched behind his ears.
His ears had been itching lately, which they normally did right before something truly strange happened. They usually itched almost constantly, but for the last few months, almost nothing at all interesting had happened. He frowned. His people, the shoninzoku, are never more dangerous to themselves and others than when they are bored. In the lands he came from, there were sayings about the little people and boredom the same way there are sayings about curiosity and cats in some places.
But now the itch was back. A grin of anticipation spread across his thin face. Something was going to happen. Something was coming. He closed his eyes, still grinning, suddenly determined to face the strange new thing without seeing it-- whatever it would be. He decided, in the spirit of his new resolve, that he would wrap his blanket around his head to ensure a blissful blindness. Strangely, when he tugged on the blanket, it didn't move. Without opening his eyes, he attempted to roll over and get a better grip on the blanket. As he did so, he bumped his head on the headboard and began to curse ferociously. His hands followed the board up to where the top of the headboard should be, but wooden surface continued unbroken upward. He continued to feel his way up, and encountered a doorknob.
Chisaibu opened his eyes. He sat down, stretched out, and coolly examined the door inconveniently located in the center of his bed, holding down his blankets. He turned to his left and examined the headboard. In truth, it had no doorknob, nor had he bumped his head on it. And as far as he could discern, it was a perfectly ordinary headboard. Therefore, he reasoned, the thing causing his ears to itch must necessarily be the door which had so recently materialized.To get the rest of the story, contact me and I'll send it to you.
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