A Vacation for Eric Creel

Eric Creel stepped out of the travel agents office and onto the crowded New York sidewalk. As he ambled along, he went over the plans he had made. Today was Monday June 2, and his plane left Friday June 6, at six in the morning. God, how he hated those early morning flights. He would fly straight to Saskatoon, Saskatchewan, and there he would meet his guide. Just the thought of getting away from the office for a while was exhilarating. God knows he had earned those vacation days. They had been working him to death.

Escape to Your Wildest Dreams!

The ad had intrigued Eric From at first, but after he got off the phone with the agent, he was sold, hook, line, and sinker. It all sounded too fantastic to be true, secret doors, magical worlds, vast palaces with Faerie kings. He envisioned an amusement park of sorts. The agent couldn’t tell him much, but said that his guide would elaborate.

Eric stopped at a diner for lunch, and on his way out he picked up today’s paper. When he got back to the office he sat down to read. Manhattan Child Knapper Strikes Again. A little girl had disappeared from her family’s town house two days ago with out a trace, no note and no ransom. They had put the girl’s picture in the paper where the parents were offering a reward. She was five years old and had curly black hair and big brown eyes. Jesus Christ! thought Eric in disgust. What’s the world coming to these days? He wished he was leaving permanently.

The next two days went by in a flash, and Eric was at home packing for his departure. The agent had given him a list of supplies, assuring him that everything else would be provided once he landed in Saskatoon. The list was rather short, the basic essentials: several changes of warm clothes, good walking boots, flash light, and toiletries. He laid out his clothes, and called for a cab to pick him up and take him to the airport in the morning.

The next day Eric got up at what he would normally consider an un-Godly hour, and put on a loose fitting black T-shirt and a pair of well-worn jeans. On his way out the door he paused to study his reflection in the mirror. Eric was a lean man of 36, who could still pass for 24. He had sharp facial features with piercing blue eyes. His hair was black and straight, cut so that it when it wasn’t slicked back, it hung down in his face. Eric was tall, 6"4, and he was in good shape from his regular trips to the company gym. He flashed a dazzling smile in the mirror. He liked what he saw that morning.

Eric took the cab to the airport, barely got to his flight on time, then slept for the rest of the trip. He woke up to the Please Fasten Your Seat Belts for the Landing announcement five hours later. When Eric got off the plane, still a little groggy, he was hailed at the luggage terminal by an unusual man. He was very tall, taller than Eric by several inches, had long blond hair and bright green eyes. He had on leather pants and a forest green tunic. His boots were leather too, they laced up to his knees and had fringe down both sides.

He came up to Eric, "Are you Eric Creel?" he asked.

"Yeah, yeah that’s me," said Eric, "Are you the guide?"

"Name’s Garret," the man said, "Can I see your papers? Can’t trust anyone these days, you know?"

"Yeah, yeah, sure. Papers? Oh yeah! I got right here somewhere. Just a sec." Eric fumbled through his back pack, spilling most of it’s contents on to the lobby floor. At last he produced the rather crumpled papers the agent had given him three days ago. "Sorry," Eric said apologetically as he began to collect up his belongings off the floor. Garret made an extensive look through the papers, and seeming satisfied stood back with his arms crossed over his chest, and watched Eric pick up the last of his stuff.

"Here, you’ll need to sign a few things, then we can be on our way. Let’s not waste time," Garret said rather curtly and handed Eric back the papers.

"Yeah, sure, no problem," Eric said, straightening his back. After he signed, he asked, "When am I gonna get the rest of my stuff?"

"I’ve got it waiting outside."

"Where are we going?"

"To a place called the door."