Charlotte
slipped quietly from the bed; she paused when the sheets rustled as he shifted
in his sleep. When he was settled, soft even breathes making his thick handsome
chest rise and fall she started down stairs.
The fourth step down creaked, the sharp sound echoed through
the quiet house. Charlotte gasped
softly startled herself. She quickly tiptoed down the rest of the staircase
before putting on her robe.
For a moment, she listened to the stillness of the house. It
was a lovely night with a full harvest moon. She remembered
nights like this as a girl. When her grandfather would sneak them from the
house into the field out back to watch the zeppelins fly over with all their
lights blinking in the purple sky.
Charlotte could
close her eyes and conjure the scent of the cool night air, and feel the dewy
blades of grass brushing her legs and fingers. Now more homesick she made her
way to the foyer closet.
She opened the door and carefully shifted boxes until she
could reach one hidden in the very back. A soft smile touched her lips, there’s
always a bit of excitement mixed with the longing for her homeland when she
opens this box.
With the same care she would carry her baby boy, now slumbering
upstairs, Charlotte carried the box
into the library. She set it on the desk and turned on the lamp. Her smile
widened as she opened the box.
It was one of the few things she had from home. This world
and its modern ways were wonderful and sometimes thrilling. Yet on some nights
like this one, she came to miss her own very much.
Charlotte
carefully unpacked the zograscope, setting it on the desk and opening the lens
and mirror. With a bit of whimsy in her heart she lifted the stack of perspective
prints from the box and untied the bow. She savored the sensation of the velvet
ribbon as it slid through her fingers.
They had velvet here but… it just didn’t seem the same to
her. She took a soft breath and placed the first print on the table under the
mirror. Once she adjusted the magnifier, her smile broadened. Home.
The view was of a cityscape, people dressed in what they
called Victorian garb here milled about the streets. Zeppelins and steam-powered
balloons filled the sky as they traversed from city to city.
Charlotte could
hear the soft rustle of skirts as the ladies rushed to catch the trolley. The
ring of the trolley bell urging them to move faster. The soft hum and hiss of the steam engines,
the scent of her favorite bakery with a fresh tray of apple turnovers. Her flat
had overlooked this view. She could sit on the balcony and watch the hustle and
bustle below for hours on end.
She changed the print to another of her family’s home. The
large house was always filled with family and friends. Large parties like the
one in the print. Her father holding up his latest invention, her uncle more interested
in refilling his brandy than science.
The next was a slide of her father’s laboratory. The small
cranks and coils in the corner that generated power for their life’s work. The
work that brought her here in fact.
The image came to life before her eyes as her memory opened.
Her father had a theory; there were other planes of existence that ran parallel
to theirs. For six long years, they worked to perfect a dimensional window. The
window would let them see into their neighboring dimension. Only it did a bit
more.
She can see her father connecting the conductive wires to
the frame of the dark pane of glass. It was the color of dark smoke with veins
and swirls like marble. Once the connections were made, she flipped the lever,
and the stored energy within the power coils began to crackle and snap.
The air in the room thickened and her skin prickled as
though lightening were about to strike. Charlotte
bit her fingernail as her eyes studied the glass for any kind of change. Father
and daughter watched hours until the swirls in the smoked glass began to move.
Her father gripped her arm. “Did you see?”
The smoke began to swirl and fade and she nodded back. “Yes,
yes I see. Father, it’s working.”
Their excitement built as a small circle of clear glass
appeared. They peered through it to see a wondrous world. Strange cars, men and
women dressed so differently. One of the ladies on the city sidewalk made Charlotte
blush with her short skirt and low open neckline. “They are very… free there.”
Her father cleared his throat and nodded as he tore his
attention away from the woman. “Indeed.”
For the next few days, they took notes and sketched their observances.
Excitedly debating about different technologies they had seen. Suddenly on that
last day large storm had gathered. Lightening struck the rods to refuel the
coils but it was too much with what they had already stored.
The extra power flowed through the coils and into the
window. The glass opened further to become a shimmering membrane. Charlotte
knew it was no longer just a window, they had created a door.
The temptation was too much for her curious mind. She was
always far too curious for a woman, as her uncle oft said. Before she could
have a second thought Charlotte
stepped through the shimmer.
She gasped with the sting and tingle of electricity as she
passed through. Everything was black and quiet one moment, the next she stood
on the sidewalk they had been watching for the last week.
She gave an excited giggle and spun to call to her father. But
the shimmering door was gone. She could see her father through the darkening
window calling to her frantically trying to restart the coils and open the gate
once again.
Charlotte
blinked and wiped her eyes as she put the perspective print back into the
stack. Her father had managed to open the window a small bit now and then to
send her things from home. Like these prints and her zograscope.
Perhaps someday soon with her knowledge of this world’s
science she’ll be able to reopen the door and show her new husband and their
son where she came from.
Part of the Blogging from A to Z Challenge for the letter Z
: Jodi Daynard is a writer of fiction, essays, and criticism. Her work has appeared in numerous periodicals, including The New York Times Book Review, The Village Voice, The Paris Review, Agni, New England Review and in several anthologies. She is the author of The Place Within: Portraits of the American Landscape by 20 Contemporary Writers (W. W. Norton). Ms. Daynard’s essays have been nominated for several prizes and mentioned in Best American Essays. She has taught writing at Harvard University, M.I.T., and in the MFA program at Emerson College, and served for seven years as Fiction Editor at Boston Review. She is a member of the National Book Critics Circle, The National Women’s Book Association, and the Author’s Guild. The Midwife’s Revolt is her first novel.
Prizes! And now for the best part, the prizes! Because who doesn't love awesome book themed gifts? Jodi is offering A Kindle Fire to one reader as well as a Artemis Cameo Necklace, an American Flag Folk Art and a $25 Amazon Gift Card. All you have to do is leave a comment and enter the rafflecopter! Of course, there are plenty of other ways to enter to win just by helping spread the word about 
