The Door in the Wall

Once upon a time, there was a girl named Helmi, which means Pearl in English. 

Everyone in the village had dark hair and eyes, but her skin was ivory and her hair so light it seemed almost iridescent, her eyes were the colour of pine needles and her voice a quiet whisper. She spent her childhood winters in endless night, with her dreams dancing with the northern light. Her summers were never-ending sunshine days and the taste of cloudberries on her lips.

Helmi wasn't considered pretty, nor was she charming enough to make people forget her plain looks. But she was clever and she knew things others could only dream of. Like how to get the tree spirits to make the leaves dance on their tree even when there was no wind or how the water spirits love cut glass and will bring you scores of freshwater fish if you give them a few.

The other girls in the small village had already decided upon which of the young men they were to marry, and to which house they were to move. They would laughingly ask Helmi who’d she marry, there was no one left in the village to choose from and she’d answer that she might not even get married.

Everyone thought she only said it because there wasn’t anyone to choose from, but Helmi had other hopes and dreams. The girls would all talk about how they saw their beaus in their dreams, Helmi saw deserts and foreign stars. She had walked the Milky Way and ridden the dragon that hides behind the northern lights. She knew everything there was to know about the man in the moon and that Santa Claus really did live in Rovaniemi.

One night her mother came into her room and sat her down on her bed. “Helmi, my dear girl, you’re old enough to be married but there aren’t any boys left here, or in the next village.” Helmi didn’t say a word, she just looked her mother in the eye, waiting for what would come next. “So your father and I have decided to send you over the border. To work. And maybe to meet a nice boy.” Helmi nodded. Her mother was right, she couldn’t stay here any longer. But she couldn’t go across the border into Finland either, there was nothing for her there.

The next morning she was given an envelope with money, for the train ticket, and an old suitcase to put all her things in. As she packed all her belongings, which weren’t anything to speak of, she came across her great great grandmothers old box. It was a black lacquered box, painted with bright red roses and a lock without a key. No one knew what was in the box, it had remained locked for so long and no one wanted to break the beautiful silver lock to find out. It was likely only treasured trinkets and worthless jewelry.

“I’m sorry granny Eliisa, but I need what’s ever in here more than anyone can understand.” A quick jab with a screwdriver broke the lock and she opened the lid as she held her breath. A blue silk scarf was neatly folded on top, when she carefully removed it from the box she couldn’t believe her eyes. There wasn’t much in there, a few cheap pieces of jewelry like everyone thought, but beneath that lie dozens of sweetwater pearls. She didn’t know what they were worth, but there had to be enough there to get her anywhere than just across the border.

“Flight to Mumbai now boarding at gate 17A. Seating 50 to 80.”

Helmi clutched her boarding pass close to her chest, she couldn’t believe that she was on her way. The last couple of days had passed in a blur, train rides and flights and nights in cheap hotels. She needed to do this, needed to find out where her dreams came from.

There was a mountain. A narrow path going up. Then a cliff face with no way to go but up metal rungs fastened in the stone. At the top there would be a door. And inside there would be answers. She hoped there would be answers.

The Indian heat hit her in the face like a warm and moist slap. There were people and noises everywhere. They all looked the same, and she had no idea where to go. The small hotel situated at the end of a street was worn and almost empty of guests. She picked it because of the tall trees growing in the garden, in the shadow between their leaves she could spot the telltale signs of spirits. Maybe they could tell her where she was to go.

“Hello? I can see you jumping between the leaves.” The canopy grew ever so still. “There you are. Could you answer a question?” Everything is still, then there’s a small rustle of leaves to her left. “Okay. I need to find the Door in the Wall.”

All the leaves on all of the trees say No No No No No!

“But I’ve dreamt of it since forever. I need to know.” There’s like a shake of a head and all the spirits disappear.

The old lady at the hotel was watching her as she made her way back through the darkening garden. “I heard you speak to the trees, but I don’t know the language.”

“It’s Sami, I’m a Sami from the north of Sweden.”

“You’re far away from home. What brings you here?” Helmi looked over her shoulder at the now perfectly quiet trees.

“I need to find the Door in the Wall.” The old lady squinted her eyes and tried to make sense of the answer. She could tell that the tree spirits were shaking their heads in the trees behind her back.

“There’s a vertical cliff just outside the village I grew up.” The old lady’s eyes glimmered in the dark. “About halfway up there’s an old wooden door, you never see it open, but there are tales of people climbing the metal rungs and going in, never to be seen again.”

Helmi’s heart beat faster, she nodded once and the old lady turned around to go inside and make a phone call.

The moon was full, shining a silvery light over the mountain as she stood gazing up towards where the Door in the Wall ought to be. The metal rungs were ice cold against her palms, the cold seeping into her bones. It felt unnatural, like the time an ice imp tried to freeze her ears.

All the way up to the cliff she had heard the trees say No no no no! Standing here, in the dark, she felt a slight reluctance to climb. Was it really that important she find out what’s behind the Door?

Suddenly she found herself halfway up, the night wind playing in her blonde hair and tugging at her dress. Her mind told her to stop, but her body climbed on, ignoring sense and reason. From above she could smell something, it irked her that she couldn’t quite figure out what it was. The last few rungs were covered in rust and felt almost slippery to the touch. The thought of letting go, if only with one hand, had her hesitating. But how else was she to knock on the Door?

There was a black hole where the Door should be, it was open but she couldn’t make out anything inside. The smell was stronger, as it wafted out from the hole in the Wall.

“At last.” The voice was oily, slippery and pulled at her soul. “Give me your hand.” An arm, so pale it shone in the moonlight stretched out from the darkness, grabbing hold of her and pulling her into the black. “You shall be my resurrection, Pearl of the North.” There was no time to scream, its fangs sunk deep into her neck, cutting off all air.

The trees were still, not a sound was heard in the night as the Door in the Wall slowly swung shut.