Jerry was right on the edge of the door, wide open above a small town over a coast of hills and rocks, culminating with a lighthouse in contrast with the moonlight.
The panoramic view reminded him of a poster of the America's Cup he had in his room, and he could tell he was indeed back in Rhode Island, this time in the city of Newport.
The door moved down like an elevator, or rather showed the outside scrolling upwards and, when it arrived at sea level, a yellow raincoat and a pair of Rubbermaid boots appeared, and blue working overalls hung from a golden hook. As soon as Jerry touched them, they replaced the Houston Oiler pajamas, now hanging on the same golden hook, with the sneakers underneath it, next to Door Number 5.
The waves against the reef alternated the sound of Jerry's walking in the big Rubbermaid boots, over the Cliff Walk. The smell of fish and salt underlined the force of an ocean that, like Jerry's soul, didn't integrate with the rest of a world, which static, wouldn't or couldn't understand its morphing nature.
He encountered young lovers enjoying the same view and old fishermen trying to catch something, more for a lifelong need of fishing than for commercial purposes.
As Jerry continued his way, he noticed a group of men on the side. They were concerned and discussed with passion, when, one by one, they drew their attention to him.
"Hey young man? Do you wanna work?" One man asked, in a marine blue coat and a captain's hat, with a perfectly groomed black beard. Jerry kept on walking, pretending not to have heard. "Hey, I am talking to you," the man yelled.
"Me?" Jerry stopped and pointed at himself.
"Yes, come here! We are short of a man and tomorrow we must take the boat out fishing. Our pal broke his arm and will be out for a while. Interested?" Jerry joined the group, not sure what to say. "You are a guy we could use. I pay well," the man insisted, "and you won't have to change your clothes," he joked.
Jerry didn't know much about fishing, but loved the idea of the experience, thus without any hesitation answered, "Absolutely! I surely need the money; and at the moment, I'm on foot."
"Very well then, you are hired. Come here, and I will introduce you to the rest of the boys."
They agreed on the salary for a full night of work, and the appointment was set for 5 p.m. sharp, on the following day, at the port. The idea of getting paid for a job made Jerry a step forward in his real-life-learning curve. That being established, he had plenty of time to kill before embarking, and the night was still young.
He tried not to think about it too much and enjoyed the moment, when a woman, in her mid-forties, approached him from behind, her feet barely touching the ground. Her light brown eyes carried the empty smile on her milky skin. She interrupted her delicate walk and gently took his right hand.
"This hand has done horrible things," she looked straight into his eyes, with two veins in a V shape lightly appearing on her forehead, "but your heart has space for redemption," she brought his hand against his heart.
"Who are you?" Jerry asked.
"I am your destiny," dancing a few steps away.
"Right now, I can use a hint on what my destiny might be," Jerry replied, before a wave hit the shore, and a few drops of water wetted him. The woman stared from a distance, holding a silken white scarf above her head, catching the mild wind and, barefoot, continued her dance in small circular steps, slowly coming closer to Jerry.
"Would you care to join me for a cup of tea? My house is right there," she invited him, pointing at a little cottage near the lighthouse. "I know you need a place for the night," her skin whiter than before, showing her veins, with a smile full of excitement.
YOU ARE READING
27 Doors
Mystery / Thriller27 Doors begins in Baltimore, 1978, with twenty-two-year-old Jerry sleeping inside an iron-lung that keeps him alive, and where he has been living most of his life. The sleep is brutally interrupted by an evil dwarf, and a mysterious energy breaks t...