One Hundred Steps

Sometimes I think everything in life takes courage: making that first stroke on a drawing, writing the first word, picking up the phone, walking out the front door. Maybe that's because I lack courage. I don't know, but I'm standing with my hand on a door I'm convinced leads to the Fantasy Cove and I'm terrified to open it.

My fears aren't completely unjustified. Anyone could easily break a neck navigating a hundred slippery steps, and that seagull, who flew into the cave last time, seemed to be aiming itself directly at my face. Maybe I was just unnerved by the failures of the day, but I've never been afraid of an animal or a bird in my entire life and I sensed hatred and evil in that gull.

I don't know where Tookey flew off to, but Oreo seems eager to join me this morning and the Abbey (or my mind) has been playing my favorite hymns all morning, both of which are very reassuring. I'm bringing lunch and my journal, in case this feeling of dread is just nonsense, and deep in the pocket of my brown robe--the whispering shell.

Oreo scratches on the door and I laugh. "Okay, Brave One, you go first!" He takes me quite literally and wastes no time heading down, while I wait until my eyes get used to the blackness of the stairwell. Oh, to have eyes that see in the dark and the sure footing of my cat.

"Wait for me." I mumble, but it comes out louder than I expected and I vow not to speak again. For some reason I'd rather no one knows of my coming.

The walls, as before, are cold and slick with moisture, the steps ragged and slippery from constant dampness. I count from the beginning this time to see if I was right about their number. Traveller climbed up to the owl tower and counted ninety something. I have the strange feeling she missed a few and that every flight leading up, down, or under in the Abbey is one hundred steps.

I'm getting there, fifty steps, no sign of Oreo, but either my eyes are adjusting, or the weather will be clear in the cove today. Sixty steps and I'm sure it really is brighter. The edge of a stone step breaks off nearly hurling me headlong down to the cave, but miraculously I regain my footing and continue. Seventy steps and I can hear and smell the ocean. Eighty and the outline of the cave shows itself in the brightening light.

Ninety steps and, although my heart is beating from exertion, I'm not as afraid as I was before. Finally, I arrive and step onto the floor of the cave. Oreo is waiting calmly and, with tail held high, leads me out into the brilliant sunshine.