(Untitled) The Lot Was Filled With Pickups

a short story

6 minute read

I carefully pulled the Tacoma into a spot between two F150s. I didn't care much if they wouldn't be able to open up their heavy doors and step up into their kingdoms. The strip mall was run down. It had barely survived last year's flood. The pizza shop hadn’t reopened. But the Chinese restaurant was doing bang up. The CVS relied solely on self checkout. It seemed like someone came to open it up, then left. Leaving the store and all of its contents up for the take. I sometimes thought I was the only person to figure it out, but couldn't bring myself to test my theory and walk out, nonplussed, with a 12 pack of seltzer.

It was cold and dark and the clock on the Tacoma was spinning. I had hoped my children were home asleep in their beds. Dreaming of butterflies. The harsh white of parking lot lights acted as a spotlight placing me on center stage. It had to be me. I didn't see anyone else around. Just a parking lot filled with pickup trucks. 

I patted down to the pockets of my jeans and pulled out a piece of paper folded over and crumpled up. The writing, illegible, on the paper told me I was in the right place. I walked into the deli and met the overweight counter lady wearing a gas station attendant shirt with the name plate. Dawn. I felt the need to buy a pack of cigarettes, a tin of dip, and a lighter. I resisted the urge and slid the paper across the counter to her smiling fat mass. Dawn is a beautiful name. 

She pointed to the door in the corner adorned in punched holes and the remnants of wiped away mud. Surrounded by brooms, mops and buckets, caked in dust after years of neglect. I thanked her, thought again about nicotine, then walked back to the door. I pulled my sleeve down to cover my hand, not wanting to catch whatever was surely about to be transmitted to me by this knob. I pulled and opened. There was a never-ending creak. I looked up the carpeted stairs into steep nothingness. 

Starting my ascent I was overtaken by a new scent. It was pleasant, but something completely foreign. Spice. Cologne. Windex. I made it to the top after a few minutes of light stepping where I met an incredibly small door. Maybe two feet in height and a foot in width. Without hesitation I knocked lightly. Figuring it would be impolite to just barge my head through. After silence for another minute or so the door opened and a face appeared, filling the hole. 

“There's no way I’m fitting through that hole.” I said to the smiling man. 

“Turn around” he barked.

I carefully turned to face the bottom of the stairs. I couldn't see the start, so I carefully placed my feet on the step so I wouldn’t tumble down to the depths of hell. 

“Turn around” he whispered after basically no time had passed.

In the place of the tiny door was a large opening, giving me plenty of room to walk through. So I did. It felt like an office. A few figures were milling about, all in off-white garb. But I liked them instantly and felt at peace. I felt around for the folded piece of paper in my jeans. The writing had changed to read that I was, in fact, in the right place.

The main room was joined by a number of other rooms, doors closed. The carpet was deep red and the walls were gold. Each door was white. I felt a hand caress my back, and as I turned a beautiful man walked by me. I fell in love right then and there as he disappeared into door number two. I felt the urge to follow him as I racked my brain for who I was. My history. Any memories. Childhood. Love. Enemies. Any story I could tell myself. I couldn’t remember a fucking thing. 

I started my way down the hallway, peering into rooms with open doors. These rooms were on display, for me, the doors had been left open. Like I was some patron of the arts. One room was filled with water all the way to the top like a fish tank. Nothing was floating it was all just obscured by the water, but no one was swimming, the water was contained inside somehow even though the door was wide open. I went over and dipped my hand into the water. I pulled it out. My hand was wet and shriveled like I had fallen asleep in the bathtub and woke up a pruned mess.

Another room was almost empty, except for a head without a body. The head had gray hair and the smiling face of an older man. Distinguished and very alive. There was a two by four balancing perfectly on the top of his head. But he was h appy. I smiled and kept it moving down the hallway. 

The final room was the largest, likely the main meeting room in its former life. Where executives would sit and make decisions around a speakerphone placed carefully in the middle of a long oak table. Buy. Sell. Hold. I stopped in front of its large opening to see a circle of men, holding hands. They were moving slowly as if on a track like if they were playing ring around the rosie at kindergarten recess. I noticed that they were all floating a few inches above the ground. I hesitated to enter this room.

I felt a hand on my back and smiled. Feeling eternal warmth and love cascade out from my center. I turned, hopeful for my lost love, but saw no one. The floating men were smiling and silent.

Appearing first as an apparition, then solidifying in front of me, a small olive skinned woman with pulled back shiny hair put out her hand. She was beautiful. Not in the conventional sense, but a beauty that brought along with it comfort and knowing. I could see us growing old together. Sitting silently on the porch in our rocking chairs. Looking out on our land. What a life it was. It was perfect. We were content and love was all around.  I gave her my hand and she held it there for what seemed like eternity. 

“What do you think?” she spoke. 

I reached my hand into my pocket, searching for the folded piece of paper. 

“Everyone is ok. You are fine. Your children are home, sleeping peacefully, they will wake up from their dreams of butterflies and live long beautiful lives filled with laughter and as much love as an earthly life would ever allow.”

I started to cry. I don’t remember crying or how it felt. I don’t remember ever being overcome. But I cried, and it felt like it was supposed to. 

“I guess things are different here.” I said

She looked at me with soft eyes and smiled knowingly. She took my hand and led me into the circle of gray haired men. I looked down at my bare feet, then over to my hand already loosely holding another. I slowly lifted off the ground and joined in the rotation, as the olive skinned woman glided over to the front of the room and closed the door. 

you did not ask to read my little writings. back to regularly scheduled content next time. peace and love to all of my friends.