Close the gate

Hector had one job, a simple one really, and he was late. He had never been late a day in his seventy-one years, especially not for this. It was the first thing he did when he got up in the morning, his first and only priority. He woke up at 6:00 every morning, hitting the alarm on his bedside table. But that trusty alarm, which had been running strong for three decades, decided to go down the crapper sometime in the night. Instead of the usual shrill beep at his ear, Hector woke up to a large boom and a flash coming from outside. Hector sat up and looked at the red numbers of the clock radio only to find their absence. His knees popped as he quickly stood and hobbled over to the dresser where his wrist watch laid. That's when he started running. 

This job had once been Hector’s father’s, and before that it was his father’s father’s. A simple job passed down from generation to generation, until today when Hector ruined it all by waking up late. There were rules and standards that the gatekeepers stood by, number one was to never be tardy when closing the gate. Rain or shine, winter or summer, close that gate by 6am or the sun will never rise again.

He staggered out the back door with bare feet, wearing his matching set of blue striped pajamas. The path, muddy from the rain pouring down, squished between his toes. Up ahead loomed the lone wooden gate, situated apart from any fence. It stood gaping open now, just like always it had magically opened sometime in the night. 

In his haste to reach the gateway, Hector failed to notice the shadowy figure at its side. 

“You’re late.” It said, stepping between Hector and the doorway. “You’re never late, Hector.”

Hector simply hmphed, unfazed by the stranger made of shadows before him. 

“I kept the others on that side of the gate for you.” It offered. 

Again Hector merely grunted before pointing at the opening. “Get in,” Hector said. 

“Whatever,” the shadow replied with a wave, disappearing through the gateway. “See you tomorrow.”  

Hector closed the latch of the wooden gate with a sigh. The sun immediately began peeking up from the edge of the earth, chasing away the storm clouds. 

Hector needed a new clock radio. 

About the Author

Sydney Howse is a junior English major with a concentration in Creative Writing and a minor in History. She loves the fantasy genre (especially anything with dragons in it), but can also be found writing and reading some other stuff. She also enjoys art such as drawing, painting, and felt animal making (please ask). She grew up in Houston, Texas, but does not consider herself a Texan by any means. Back in Texas, she has two dogs and a turtle and is always willing to show pictures to anyone who asks.