[Attain, Defense]

  The I’s Have It.

  The iron door knocker came to life, the dragon who’d been facing my right ever so slowly turned his head to look me in the eye. It held my gaze for fifteen or twenty seconds as if it was trying to decide whether or not to let me in. Then it looked above my head and roared and let loose a torrent of fire.

  That burst of fire propelled the door open. It looked grayish inside, compared to the brilliant burning desert I was standing next to. I stepped over the threshold. I was in a small stone room maybe ten by ten. The only thing that it contained was a black metal spiral staircase. Tipping my head up to see how high I needed to drag my weary and sun burnt body. How long was I walking on that path, I have blisters forming from the sun burn and it aches. As I stand there the door slams shut behind me, leaving me in darkness.

  I hurry back to open the door again, I want it open before I begin the climb up the stairs. But there is no door knob, I feel around, the door is completely flat and featureless. I feel the seam between the door and the castle wall. I try to get a purchase with fingernails and fingers, trying to pry the door open. The only thing that I accomplish is a few broken nails.

  I reverse course, slowly in the darkness with my arms out in front of me searching for the entrance to the metal staircase. My right hand bangs into the metal railing. I move my left foot around searching for a step. I find and reorient myself so I can begin to ascend into the blackness above. But after a couple of steps a landing can be seen bathed in a grayish flickering light. I ascend as fast as I’m able but my thigh muscles feel like I’ve been walking for literal days, not just the few hours I’ve been here.

  I make it to the first floor landing and move to a flickering light. I can see the doorway at the end of the landing. There is a long table and a man around my age sits there with a plate of oversize peas in front of him. I hate peas, but I’d gladly eat plate after plate of them, I’m so hungry and thirsty. The man looks familiar. It’s my grandfather, but a version of him forty or fifty years in the past.

  I yell to him and begin to move toward him, but I’m stopped at the doorway. Is it a doorway or a window shaped like a doorway? It’s completely smooth and unlike the door below, there is not even a seam to pry open. When I brought my attention back to my grandad, he was gone. His seat was empty and the pile of peas remained on the plate. Slowly the gray light started to fade as I was standing on the landing near the doorway. I turned around holding onto the railings on each side of me and proceeded back to the stairs.

  Still in total blackness until I ascended a couple of steps and grayish light appeared again, revealing another landing. Again I ascended as fast as I possibly could, which was painfully slowly a step by step process but eventually I arrived at the landing again trying to open the door / window. My granddad sat at the same table with the same pile of peas in front of him, everything was exactly the same except he looked ten to fifteen years older. I took off one of my cowboy boots and tried to use it as a hammer to smash the glass.

  After a few minutes the light started to fade again and I made my way back to the stairs, putting my boot back on first. I was exhausted and scared and completely confused. I’d come to the conclusion that this couldn’t be a dream, unless for some reason I was in a coma or a mental institution. Both seemed like a reasonable assumption. But if I was mad, could I ever come to a reasonable conclusion?

  After a while, even though I wasn’t any less tired I started to move again. I was starting to get a chill plus I worried that my leg muscles would cramp up from dehydration, and I’d die on this stair. Only the next traveler through this realm would find my picked clean skeleton lying across the metal steps. So I got up and moved up and it happened again the exact same way. The only difference was my grandfather's age, he’d gained another ten or perhaps twenty years. He looked like I remembered him as a little girl.

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  I was seeing the story of his life and his intense dislike for peas. What the hell are the peas supposed to signify? The pile of them didn’t get larger or smaller; it was always the same. He’d sit there in front of them staring at them but never touching either the knife or fork. Then after a while he’d just fade away. Hunger gnawed at my belly. He started to fade and I proceeded to the next landing albeit even slower.

  The scene repeated itself except this time granddad looked older then the last time I’d seen him maybe three years ago. His face was grim, more lined, no humor sparkled in his eyes, he looked dead tired. He looked like I felt. He still refused to eat and then faded away.

  I started up the steps ever slower, I feared that this next landing would show me his death. But I began to mount the stairs one by one, I looked up and instead of the grayish light I’d begun to expect a rich golden light filled the landing. Maybe it was possible that he lives and is in this room. I pushed myself as fast as I could manage, I reached the landing, I could smell the peas, I crossed the landing to the doorway. There was no glass, no granddad, just the long table with a pile of peas. There was a white door beyond the table and chair. I crossed to it, tried opening it but it was locked.

  I went back to the table and took the butter knife back to the door. The smell of peas was overwhelming. I tried to pry open the door with the butter knife but it just bent. The door knob was plain, with no keyhole. So even if I knew how, there was no lock to pick. I went back to the table, sat in the chair to rest. I looked back at the doorway to the metal stairs. I saw myself, beating on the glass that now filled that doorway. I got up from the table and proceeded back to the doorway that was empty when I’d entered the room, filled with glass. The other version of me, she must be older, because she had a tattoo on her right hand of the Eye of Horus.

  So I live through this and finally get my first tattoo. After steadfastly refusing to ink my body. I’d relented, but why. Why the Eye of Horus? I may very strongly dislike religions but I’ve always been fond of myths and if I remembered correctly the Eye was a good omen, Horus had selflessly given the eye to his dead father to sustain him in the afterlife.

  After watching her for a few more minutes, she turned and walked back to the stairs and began to climb. I went back to the white door and tried it again, still locked. I went back to the chair and sat in front of the peas. If I was smart, I’d refuse to eat them. But my mouth was so dry and the peas looked so moist. They smelled vile, like old sweaty shoes or sneakers. If I held my nose, I could eat them. I might sustain myself, these peas could be my salvation.

  But I was loath to eat anything here. The stories of fairy have people trapped by eating or drinking. But you also die of dehydration if you haven’t drunk something, especially if you were dehydrated in a desert. I haven’t had to pee since I arrived, so I’m already dehydrated. Am I just making excuses to eat the peas, or am I considering valid arguments?

  If I’m already severely dehydrated, it’s already affecting my brain, making a well reasoned decision. If I had a coin I could flip and decide randomly, which may be the most logical way forward if I can’t trust my own mind. I don't have a coin, I have nothing but my clothes and boots. I can toss a boot. If it lands on the heel and falls to the left, I don’t eat, if it falls to the right, I go ahead and eat.

  I flip the boot and it falls to the right. I grab the spoon and scoop a spoonful of the still steaming plate of peas, with one hand and hold my nose with the other. Blow on the spoonful and finally eat. They taste awful but the moistness is agreeable to my mouth. Once I’ve swallowed the first spoonful, I hear a click and the white door behind me has opened.

  Thank Horus goes through my mind, I couldn’t stomach another mouthful of those peas. I go to put down the spoon and the plate of peas, have morphed into a plate of eyeballs, all of which appear to be staring at me. I feel like I ought to be sick, but I’m not. I get up fearfully from the table and walk into the blinding light coming from the open white doorway.