Crawlspace worlds

©2019-2022 michael raven

Morgan stared through the cubby door opening after Mark stood aside.

“Tell me, mate… Why is it that everyone but me seems to have a real kif bedroom, while I seem to be doomed for as mundane of one as the universe can muster on my behalf?”

Beyond the threshold, there were pine trees and underbrush, the will-o-wisp of flurries dancing between forest branches. Morgan could see a lamppost casting a circle of light in a clearing a bit down a narrow path leading away from the door, a beacon against the night within. Cold air washed into Mark’s room, giving relief from the hot, humid Minnesota summer.

“Dunno. Your luck must be real horsepoo,” Mark said, shrugging. “But we’re friends now, ain’t we?”

Morgan nodded.

“Well, then, almost as good as having a door like this of your own. Say — why don’t we go see if Queen Jadis has any good treats on hand, yeah? She’s a little stern, but her treats are to die for.”

Without waiting for a reply, Mark stepped into the forest inside the cubby and Morgan followed close behind.


More flash fiction from 2019, modified a bit more than usual. “Kif” was the prompt via OED. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that every time I opened the crawlspace cubby door in my room if I didn’t hope, beyond hope, that I’d see a street lamp in the middle of a forest beyond. My parents didn’t think I needed a wardrobe.

4 thoughts on “Crawlspace worlds

  1. My grandmother had a little cubby in her closet that opened to a small storage place and I always always expected to crawl inside one day and emerge in Narnia. One day I will find the way in…

    Liked by 1 person

    1. You and I both.

      We had four that I can recall:

      One at the top of the stairs going to the second floor. It was “mundane” because it was all of my mother’s things that never saw the light of day.

      There was another two in the hallway-length closet on the second floor. One at either end of the thing. They were connected and only interesting because that’s where my father kept his old Playboys with the thought he’d sell them to collectors. They ended up in recycling. Also, not all that magical.

      The one in my bedroom, however, was in turns both terrifying and fascinating. I always preferred having my bed in front of it so it couldn’t open. I was never sure if there was a potential Narnia, or a potential source of the Universal Classic Monsters. For a while there, I was pretty convinced my sister’s dolls used it to plot the stabby demise of my family. 😀

      Liked by 1 person

Post a reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.