253: Searching for Gold

He needs new glasses, he thinks, as he squints across the room to see the line-up of jars and bottles labelled with curly ink. How long has it been? Two years? Three? He fumbles his way through the dark dust of the pantry, ducking only when he feels the cobwebs plaster across his forehead. He leans in closer to one of the jars, slowly deciphering the text: 'DH 2021'. He lifts the jar towards the light spilling in through the door behind him. Tilts it. It's dark honey all right. But not the one he's looking for.

He sets it back and follows the shelf, forward into 2022, 23, 24, 25 ...

Eventually the shelf ends. He turns the corner. There is no light here. He should have brought his phone, or grabbed the flashlight by the door.

He takes a deep breath and steps forward. The floor disappears beneath him and he plummets. No ancient wardrobe for him, or time machine to take him into a fanciful future; the dusty pantry webbed his progress.

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Written by: Katrine Hjulstad

Instagram: @katrinehjulstad

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Publisher's note: All poetry published with Eudaemonia Records has been viewed and commented on by our editors. Ultimately, however, we believe that it is the writer's decision to accept or reject any suggestions made by the editors, and therefore take no responsibility for the final product.