at the handle, the door opened. Behind it was a beautiful bird, a crane of some kind, nearly as tall as Natalie. It spread its enormous wings and flew off over snow-covered fields bounded by stone walls.
“Well done, dear,” said Ms. Yellow.
The next time she came, there was nobody there at all, just the trees and the snow.
“Hello?” called Natalie, before it occurred to her that she might not want to draw attention to herself, in case Ms. Pink was on the prowl. She looked up the path, then down the path, then started walking. Her footsteps seemed extra-loud now that she was alone, as if the crunch of the snow could draw an enemy to her.
I wish I could be sure who my enemy is, she thought. What if Ms. Pink is trying to stop me from doing something evil? Or is that daytime thinking?
Crunch crunch, went the snow. The trail bent slowly to the right, then to the left, and she could see something up ahead, by the side of the path, a rumpled pile of yellow and little broken bits. When she got close enough to tell what it was, she stopped with a cry, fell to her knees.
“No,” she said, her voice breaking. “Oh, no.”
It was Ms. Yellow, her body crushed like a giant had stepped on it, her head shattered like a pot, shards and pieces scattered in the snow. Natalie gently lifted one of the pieces; it felt just like a dinner plate, smooth and cold. She clutched it in her hand. This is because she helped me, she thought. She got me free from Ms. Pink and now this has happened to her. This can’t go on. No more.
She took off running down the path, tripped on the hem of her dress, lifted the tresses in her hands and kept on going. When she got to the wall she ran up the steps to the twelfth door.
“What do I have to do?” she said to the creepy girl there, who seemed to something like Ms. Greenish-Blue. Ms. Teal?
“You have to say the magic word,” said Ms. Teal.
“Magic word?” said Natalie. “But I need a clue.”
“You have to say the magic word.”
Natalie shouted a word, but it wasn’t a particularly magical one, and the door didn’t open.
“Not that one.”
“Please?” Natalie tried.
“Daytime thinking,” said the girl.
“It could be anything!”
“There are only a few magic words,” said the girl. “Please is one of them. But it is not the one you need today.”
What I need is to leave, thought Natalie. Now. Ms. Yellow is dead and it is my fault, and there are no words to help with that, magic or otherwise.
But then she realized what it was. The one magic word she needed the most.
“Sorry,” she said. “Ms. Yellow, I’m so sorry.”
She heard the bolts move within the door, pulled it open. There was a baby lying in the snow, bundled thickly, waving its arms, smiling.
“What? It’s just lying there?”
“It’s a gift.”
“I don’t want any more gifts. Is someone coming for it? I can’t take it.”
“You don’t have to.”
“But it can’t just lay there in the snow. Is there someone coming?”
“I don’t have any answers for you. I’m just doing what I have to do.”
“Well, I’m done,” said Natalie. “That’s it. No more doors. I’m never coming here again.”
So the next night Natalie decided she wouldn’t go to sleep. She spent the afternoon preparing, moving things into her room so that she could stay awake. She told her dad she was making herself lunch for school, but took the sandwich and chips and hid them under her bed. She put two Dr. Peppers from the pantry there, too. At the last second she got her mother’s smartphone from the charger and hid it under her pillow.
First she texted with Heidi, who had a later bedtime. When Heidi finally went to sleep (at 10:15), Natalie watched YouTube videos, but the phone hadn’t really charged fully; by 12:30 it was dead. She ate the sandwich and chips, drank a Dr. Pepper. She tried reading, but that made her sleepy right away. She got some paper and started drawing at her desk. She was no artist, but that wasn’t the point. It didn’t matter how anything looked; she was just trying to stay awake.
She drew her and Heidi, shopping at Walgreen’s.
She drew her family skiing before Christmas.
She drew Ms. Yellow, surrounded by a garland of flowers and hearts.
She drew George Washington, surrounded by his zombie army.
“Walter’s was way better,” she said. She looked at the clock; it was only 1:13.
The Ms. Yellow doll was there, on her desk, next to the clock.
“I thought I moved you.”
“You did, dear.”
Uh oh, thought Natalie. I must have fallen asleep after all.
“You’re awake,” said Ms. Yellow’s doll. “But you shouldn’t be. I need you to go to the Kingdom, Nightfall.”
“I’m Natalie,” said Natalie. “I’m not Nightfall anymore. Not ever again. I killed you, Ms. Yellow.”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“It was my dream.”
“You know very well this is not a dream.”
“I’m not going again, Ms. Yellow. Not ever.”
“Nightfall,” said Ms. Yellow. “Don’t feel bad about what happened to me. If it hadn’t happened then I couldn’t be here with you.”
“What? You’re saying this is heaven for you?”
“It’s not like that, dear.”
“Right. Daytime thinking?”
“Wishful thinking. But I can come just for now and tell you that everyone else needs you, Nightfall.”
“Natalie.”
“You are Nightfall, and you have a job to do. A job you must do. They all need you, Nightfall, even Ms. Pink.”
“Ms. Pink might be right, Ms. Yellow. Maybe I am doing the wrong thing.”
“You’re not.”
“It got you killed.”
“It was what had to happen. Now go to sleep.”
“No.”
“Good night, little one.”
“No. Hey, stop.”
“Shhhh...it’s time to sleep.”
“Ms. Yellow...” said Natalie, her head nodding. “I don’t want to.”
“Good night, dear,” said Ms. Yellow, as Natalie’s head fell to the desk. “And goodbye.”
She appeared right where she needed to be: on the topmost balcony, right next to door number thirteen.
“Whoa,” she said. “That certainly makes things easier.”
“It does,” said Shrug.
“And where have you been!” she shouted at him. He flinched and closed his eyes. “I was captured. Ms. Yellow is dead!”
“Dead is kind of-”
“Yes, I know, but she’s gone. She was smashed. Why weren’t you there? Don’t you dare shrug!”
Shrug...stayed still, frowning, but said nothing.
“I’m tired of this, Shrug. I just want it to end.”
“Just four more doors,” he said. “Just three after tonight.”
Natalie nodded. “So how did I end up here? Why not on the path? Is it because I stayed up late? Does that shorten the journey?”
“Ah, yeah. It does. You stayed up late.”
She frowned. “No way, Shrug. That’s daytime thinking, I know it. What did you do?”
“Just trying to make things easier.”
“Right. I bet. You could have done it all along? What’s going on?”
“Don’t you just want to open the door and be done with this?”
“Where’s Ms. Pink? Is this because of her?” Natalie went to the edge of the balcony and looked down.
“No!” said Shrug quickly. “Please...” But it was too late. Natalie was staring over the rail at the snowy ground below. At a pair of crumpled cone dresses and smashed porcelain.
“It’s Ms. Blue, and Ms...whatever. Teal.”
“Yes,” whispered Shrug.
“Does this
always happen, Shrug? You said there have been others. Is there always so much death?”
“There is always death,” said Shrug.
“I mean for Nightfall. For the other girls who were me.”
“It’s not like that,” said Shrug. “Time, and everything else. It’s not the same. I know this is your first time, but Nightfall has always been you. It always will be. That’s how it is.”
“So this happens to me over and over again?”
“You know it’s not so simple.”
“Daytime thinking,” snarled Natalie.
“Yes, yes. I know you’re tired of hearing that, but that’s how it is. But for you- the you that you think of as the real you- this will only happen this one time. Four more doors and you are done.”
“Fine,” said Natalie. She walked around Shrug to the door, where Ms. Lavender was waiting.
“Are you going to die, too?” asked Natalie.
“You don’t have to do this,” said Ms. Lavender.
Natalie frowned. “What? Are you with Ms. Pink?”
“Hush, Ms. Lavender,” said Shrug.
“Maybe you could wait until tomorrow,” said Ms. Lavender.
“Shut up!” said Shrug. “What are you doing?”
“I was just thinking maybe she shouldn’t open this door right now.”
“And I think she should,” insisted Shrug. “Since when has this been any of your business?”
“Just tell me your riddle, or whatever,” said Natalie.
“Yes, do that,” said Shrug.
“If you say so,” said Ms. Lavender. “Alice told Ezra-”
“Hey!” interrupted Shrug. “That’s not the one!”
“That’s the one I always say.”
“But not the one-” began Shrug, but Natalie was looking at him. “What?”
“You told her to ask me an easy one, didn’t you? To keep me going?”
“Maybe.”
“You can do that, Shrug? Just change things?”
“Well, no. Not really. There is flexibility, but with a cost.”
“Cost? Not Ms. Blue and Ms.