In a place one might know. An area sterile, yet filled with personality. Abound the walls, covering everything inside, even the people, illustrations everywhere giving the place a unique atmosphere. Where ink flows, and needles pierce, creating a magic of its own upon the canvas of skin.
Here in this place, a man is sketching up a design for his latest client. It is a lovely arrangement, one rather ambitious for a three-hour session. With its motif and details, to the client’s request. He adds a line here and there. Excited to bring it to his canvas, and right on time the door rings and she comes inside.
“Welcome!” Dorian says excitedly, pulling over his sketchpad to the counter. “I just finished up your tattoo design.”
Cyndi was one of his favorite clients, they had been working on a new sleeve on her left arm. This would be the piece-DE-resistance and final image to complete it. Cyndi looked like she was about to burst. “Sweet! I can’t wait to see what you came up with, Louie.”
Louie smiled as he held the final design up proudly, completely ignoring the butterflies he always got when he showed his work. He tossed those insecurities to the side confident she would love it. He hoped.
Cyndi had asked for something different and new confident in Louie’s abilities and trusted him to come up with something to fill out the sleeve. The only part she had been adamant about was that it had to contain lilacs somehow. This being a big moment in her life she wanted a flower symbolizing change. He had taken and ran with the idea. Taking a flowing lilac flower and having it morph and twist, drifting through three dimensions, pixelating the image, and changing going from a solid piece all the way to watercolor. All while the vines and petals forming a door made a bit of each style. It was a masterwork of all styles and would fit perfectly.
“Wow!” Seemed to fall out of her mouth involuntarily, as she took the drawing from Louie.
Louie was smiling at her apparent approval, at least until the silence drew on, and all she did was stare. He was starting to wonder if she liked it or if it was all wrong. Should I have added the bees? He wondered. It was an idea that he had gone back and forth on eventually settling on not. His smile faltered as the silence drew on for too long.
Louie cleared his throat startling Cyndi. “How do you like it?”
“I love it. It's just what I wanted. Though-” She drew out making Louie’s anxiety spike, “-why a door?”
“Door?” He turned the paper around and noticed the door. Huh didn't know I did. He thought but said, “A door can lead to anything, there are a thousand different possibilities all just waiting for you to take a step and open the door.”
She paused taking in his spur-of-the-moment bullshit. “I like it!”
“Great! Now we have the next three hours booked. Are you going to be OK for that?” He knew she should be, but had to ask.
“Oh yeah. No worries.”
“Alright just need to make a few adjustments to line it up and we'll get you all set.”
Louie stepped away, knowing Cyndi knew exactly where his station was, and stepped back into his office. What is wrong with you? He thought taking a minute to center himself.
He was trying not to freak out. That was the tenth tattoo in a row he had sketched that had a door. At least this one made sense. The others were just a door sitting smack dab in the middle of the tattoo. Like he had drawn the sketch and decided to just put a door over it. He played it off as a joke when asked but not once had he remembered doing it. It was starting to freak him out. Especially since the last few the door had seemed kind of broken.
Just calm down. Make the changes for her arm, and ...he paused looking down at the drawing. There hidden in the flowers near the base of the door, was. A strange feminine figure hidden seeming-ling through one of the broken slits, in the door. She appeared to be made from a digital flower and a water color vine.
Well that's new. He thought shrugging thinking he added it by accident. As it was just a tiny outline maybe it's the angle. He thought pushing it to the back of his mind as he finished the design.
#
Louie started to make adjustments to the drawing, except everything felt wrong. His hand moved filling in the door’s cracks and holes. He felt every stroke was somehow repairing it, it was definitely strange. This was the first time he was actively adjusting one of the designs instead of starting over. Louie quickly found himself in the zone, fixing things and making little adjustments that felt right. As he does so he feels a burning in his own tattoos. Like lightning running through him.
“The hell was that!?” He shouted afraid. He looked around the room thinking he sat on an electrical cord. There was nothing. Did I just have a seizure or something? He feared that there might be something wrong with his brain. He was drawing things he didn’t mean, and now he was being electrocuted. Terrified at what it might mean, Louie took a deep breath and promptly tried to ignore it. He couldn’t afford the medical bill right now anyway.
When he went back to fixing the door again he felt the pulse of electricity course through him again. Causing him to freeze. “Great! I have some kind of nerve damage.” He sighed staring at his hand, when something else occurred to him. Is this carpal tunnel? He had heard it could cause shooting pain up his arm, and as a tattooist, he was always worried about getting it, as it could end his entire career. With not a small amount of dread he began to work on his drawing, hoping it was just some kind of fluke, when it happened again. This time he didn't stop. He kept going, stubbornly determined to prove he could still work through the pain.
As he worked the pain grew even causing his muscles to spasm. But he just kept going, even when he saw a small spark shoot between two of his tattoos he kept going, convinced it was the pain making him see things. After all, how could he be a tattooist if he couldn’t even erase a goddamn door?
It was his last erasure that suddenly all the pain seemed to melt away. Louie felt amazing better than he ever had before. Not to mention the most tired he had ever felt. He should have been freaking out, possibly calling an ambulance. His client should be bashing the door to his office or stormed out by now, How long had it been since he started? Looking up at the clock he found only five minutes had passed. How? Now in a daze, he looked down at the new design. Now it just looked like a beat-up old door with faded marks from where it had been damaged before. All the design work had woven itself into the most interesting design, the colors seemed brighter, and even the lilacs. He could almost smell them.
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It had a strange beauty to it that even he as the artist didn't understand. though the more he looked Louie felt it could be spruced up just a bit, as he cleaned the door up even more. This time there was no spark or spasm, though he did feel like he was being drained. The design flew out of him, the door becoming more and more real. The door begging to jump off the page.
He finished and wiped the page to get any shavings off of it when he felt, not the smooth paper below his hand, but something solid, and wooden. He stared down at his hand, confused, then touched his drawing, feeling its aged wood, and repaired seam. Metal bands and decorations. All of it.
He could only stare down in wonder at what he wrought when he curiously opened the door.
#
In an auditorium, a man and a doll sit and watch a tattoo artist open an impossible door.
Nicki was smiling wide, “You should remember this part.”
How could Drystia forget? They had been fighting in the place between for so long. Jumping from one disaster to the next doing what they could. All too often was almost nothing. Then they had stumbled onto the tiniest thread of fate. One not like the other one that they just needed to grab onto it. They had both grabbed on for all they were worth. Nicki pulsed all the power he had gathered through their journey just to have this one chance to get back. They knew there would still be an almost certain chance of death following Nicki’s thread. They could see the darkness far off waiting for him. But if they didn’t do it now they might never had a chance.
Then the door opened, and Drystia will never forget the look on the artist’s face. It still made her smile.
On the screen the man looked down through the door, completely dumbfounded, at a man and a doll holding tight to each other.
Nicki looked up with a big smile, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome?” The man said obviously questioning his sanity.
Then Nicki jumped through the door and vanished. The only evidence of any of that happening was the sketch with a now-open door.
#
“The fact that worked was probably crazier than either of us give it credit for,” Drystia commented.
Nicki laughed. “True. Very true.”
“I never asked before but was he supposed to be a Hero?” Now that she understood how things seemed to work around her. It seemed obvious to Drystia.
“Maybe.” Nicki looked thoughtful. Did he not know? “It’s entirely possible. I just used the energy instead to get us out. Whether or not that was enough for him to become a Hero I don’t know.”
Not knowing what to make of that she replied, “Well, All of that.” She gestured to the screen referring to all the things they had witnessed and shared. “That was both depressing and uplifting at the same time.”
“Best stories are,” Nicki responded and the room went quiet.
“So…” Now what? She wanted to ask but felt it was the wrong thing to say.
“So.”
Silence stretched on “So is it boring being a doll?” How long had he been holding onto that? She stared at Nicki in disbelief. “I mean the whole sitting around and not moving and just watching?” He fumbled through his words.
Drystia found herself laughing. “Really? You ask that now?”
“Look It just kind of fell out.” His face turned red.
She could only shake her head, seeing him blush like that she had to answer. “Short answer kinda. It’s like a fugue state kinda like a dream. You remember the important bits. Although that might not be the best analogy, as dreams are where I’m most me. Or at least that used to be the case.”
“So dreams are just another world?” He said thoughtfully.
“A half-formed one completely malleable.” She said unsure.
“Neat.”
Again the silence grew. Drystia knew Nicki had never been good at small talk. But she waited she could feel him thinking of something stranger to say. “You know if you took your Amazonian form you could come paddle boarding with me.”
“In this dress?”
Nicki stared confused. “I mean if you want. But a swimsuit would be better.
“Nicki.”
“Yeah?”
“I only have this dress.” Did he not realize that?
“Oh…” She watched the realization cross his face. “OH! We have to get you a wardrobe. How could I have been so rude?”
“Yes, you have been.” She actually didn’t really care all that much but it was fun teasing him. “And new clothes would be nice.” Maybe she did want something different.
“I just have one question then,” Nicki said serious.
“What?”
“Do I buy you doll clothes or normal human Clothes?
Drystia laughed.
#
In an unmarked van outside of an apartment building where a man and a doll just so happen to live. Four people wearing plain clothes sit and watch screens showing the inside of the building and a particular tenant’s door.
Detective Mercer and his officers had been stacking out Nicholas Knight’s apartment for the last few weeks with almost nothing to show. He only ever seemed to leave it once or twice a week for only an hour or so for some new class he wanted to try. They had tried to understand his motive as seemed to be picking these activities out of a hat, with how random they were. Detective Mercer was stumped and Officer Bennet while enthusiastic had her own wild theories. Saying things aren’t right with him. He never should have mentioned the security tapes to her.
The door opened. This was their chance. The team grabbed their gear, except. Who was that? A giant of a woman in a rather tattered-looking red dress stepped out with him. They hadn’t seen her go in or at all the entire time they had been there. Who are you?
Bennet leaned into the screen, “Who is that?”
“No idea. Everyone ready?”
“How did we miss that?” One of his other techs commented.
“I don’t know but now is probably our only shot. We’ll have to look her up later, now is our only shot. We’ll have maybe an hour to get in and out. Go!”
#
An average man and a shockingly tall woman walk through a hall arms filled with bags brimming with clothing. Casually chatting.
“So they do have to be for that form size?” Nicki confirmed.
“Yeah.”
“Then what’s the deal with the red dress?:
“That-“ Drystia looked down at her old dress, “-hard to explain. Just think magic doll dress. Honestly, I don’t really understand either.” She sighed.
Nicki had so many questions, and it was all so fascinating. “So do the clothes shrink when you shrink?”
“No, but I’ll have the dress on.”
“So it’s like you transform into your doll self?”
“Kinda I’m still figuring this out.” She said sounding embarrassed,
Glad to see it’s not just me. They reached the door and Nicki froze at the sight of his door. “Well, that isn’t good.”
“I mean these things take time.” Drystia defended herself.
“No, that.” Nicki pointed to the slightly ajar door.
“That is indeed not good.”
They cautiously entered the apartment both investigating the apartment for anything. Finding nothing out of place. He had almost missed it. Nothing was out of place, the door itself was simply slightly open, maybe they had forgotten to close it when they left. Nicki was starting to think that might be the case until he noticed a book missing from his coffee table. A book he should have never brought into this world.
“Rixar’s book is gone.”
“That is really not good.”
* * *