Page and the lion

 

Trousers: Mango, Blouse: ASOS, Belt: Nordstrom Rack, Loafers: Bass, Earrings: the Field Museum

Today we had beautiful weather. Sun-shining, don't-really-want-or-need-to-wear-a-coat kind of weather. Now let's keep our fingers crossed that Mr. Sun graces us with his presence on Saturday too, so we can enjoy it for more than an hour in between work and classes.

Anyway, some of you mentioned that you wanted to know what happened in the story, The Beach, that I posted a little while ago. I planned to post more of the story today, but instead I decided to share a different story.

Don't worry I will  post The Beach II soon. This story is called Page and the lion and I'm sorry the section is a little long, but short stories don't usually have good stopping points.

When the lion knocked down the front door to Page’s apartment he seemed surprised that she
didn’t scream.

Page stood in her living room wearing her rattiest pajama pants, sloshing some of the soup she
had in a cup onto the hardwood floor. Although she didn’t appear to be shocked that her door
was broken, or that a very large, surprised-looking lion was standing behind it, she did have
a few questions. “I’m sorry, did you knock?” she asked politely. And, “What was your name
again?”

The lion appeared even more astonished. He made a grumbling sound deep in his throat that
would have made a grown man shiver, let alone a wisp of a girl like Page. But once he had
finished clearing his throat, instead of proceeding to eat the girl (as the growling rumble seemed
to have suggested) he extended one paw gracefully forward across the floor and said, “Anthony
is my name, and I do apologize. I didn’t realize anyone was home.” This was all said and done
very regally—if a very large lion crowded into the doorway of a small New York apartment can
appear regal. But as I said, he can and he did.
 

Page was no less regal in her reply, although her bow was hindered from being as graceful since

she was still holding a now half-empty cup of soup. “I welcome you, Sir Anthony. I have a good
many more questions but you had better come inside first before you frighten my neighbors.”
If you could have seen it you probably would have that Page’s request was impossible.
Anthony’s shoulders extended beyond both sides of the doorjamb; he was already ducking
his huge head to see Page under the seven-foot doorframe’s top post. Even with a lot of
uncomfortable maneuvering, there seemed to be no way that Anthony would be able to fit
through the door, let alone stand comfortably inside the apartment. (New York apartments are
notorious for being no bigger than a hallway closet. Without the benefits of extra storage space,
you know.)

The lion just sat on his haunches, somewhat meekly as he waited on Page, rather than trying to
ram his large frame through the doorjamb. Page didn’t waste any time. She simply said, “Well,
please do come in Sir Anthony,” and jammed her free hand into her sweatshirt pocket.
The instant she spoke the door expanded to become a large arch, at least fifteen feet tall.
Anthony didn’t hesitate but prowled forward gracefully. The room itself had also expanded and
instead of standing next to a small puddle of spilled soup, Page stood next to a Grecian fountain.
Anthony looked around as he prowled forward, probably noticing that the once clean, but tiny
apartment had expanded to ten times its previous size. Gold curtains now covered the arched
windows, the hardwood was transformed into Persian-rug covered marble, the paisley couches
became velvet and brocade covered settees, and a twelve year-old girl in faded Grumpy the
Dwarf pajama pants and an over-sized Cubs sweatshirt stood in the middle of an elegant home
from a different era. Anthony’s face remained lionishly inscrutable, but his tail twitched about.
Perhaps he had expected Page to be replaced by a polished young lady to match the changed
surroundings.

“I had no idea that this place was actually so large.” Anthony sat down on a rug near a roaring
fireplace. “Great illusion.”

“Which one?” Page asked with a smile. Anthony didn’t respond but seemed to frown in
confusion. Page walked toward him and said “By the way, I am Page.” Anthony gave her his
paw.

“I must thank you for welcoming me into your home, and apologize for your door…” Glancing
over, Anthony saw that the door was upright and secure in its frame. He shook his head and
returned his gaze to the serious but pleasant-looking girl in front of him. “I never would have
come if I had thought someone was here. It’s just that . . . well . . . I’m trying to find a way back
home, and your apartment . . . errr . . . mansion, seems to have a portal of magic.” The last part
came out in a rush.

When Page made no reply other than an encouraging “Mmm,” and nodded her head
understandingly, Anthony continued more slowly. “You see, I’m not from around here. Or even
this planet. I was taken as a young cub from my home in Herwhone. Brought here –”
Anthony stopped when the doorbell jangled abruptly. When he started up in surprise, Page rose
from the armchair she had been perching on. “No, no, I’ll get it.”