‘Gateway To Another World’ Flash Fiction by 14 year old Siddhant Vodela from Kolkata

I stood near the edge of my balcony, soaring over every nook and cranny, of  the city below.

The fresh, blue air of the evening sky engulfed me, like I had submerged into the smooth waves of a river. The yellow sun, drained of its energy from  flaunting its radiant gaze for too long, fled into the depths of the kingdom of clouds. In my right hand, settled in my grip, was a gateway to another world.

The cataclysmic wave of the Covid pandemic had given me a reason to introspect life, in the comfort of my abode, at all times. The passage of time, in  its eternal flow, had bored me of the twins through which I inhaled the sight of the world. Everyday, my eyes photographed the same image to feed the  thoughts of my mind. I yearned for something different, a different outlook, a
different vision.

Tap, tap. The thought of testing, the empty glass lying still in my kitchen  cabinet, in a bizarre and unconventional way, sparked in me when the clock struck five-thirty in the evening, just at the demise of the golden hour. I  wondered what the world would look like through a crystal glass. After I  grabbed it and headed into my balcony. I stood observing what the world  looked like from the perspective of my two eyes, for I needed to compare the  two different visuals later.

Then, after taking a deep breath in excitement and  anticipation, I concealed my right eye with the opening of the glass. Lo and behold! What I could see  was even more beautiful and aesthetic than I could have ever imagined. A  serene landscape that paralleled the distinct look of my dreams.

Through the glass everything seemed more distant, literally and figuratively,  as if they were from another world, another dimension, where everything  flowed like a noble river of paint. The world looked dreamy and expansive like  it was another universe by itself. The clumps of trees looked like dark green  clouds and the buildings were soft cemented mountains. The speeding cars  were blobs of amber lights in the misty far-away bridge. The roads looked  mysterious and the sleeping sun, which was being whisked away to its cloudy  abode, shimmered with calm and tranquility. The center of the frame was clear and sharp but pleasingly distorted like a water-colour painting, which merged  into blurry waves around the fringe of the glass. I relished my captivating and alluring view for a prolonged period of time.

Then I went back inside, but instead of the kitchen, I placed the glass in a new  home, on the metal desk in my bedroom. I caressed and wiped away the  prickling dust from the crystal glass, in a loving manner. It was now a prized  possession of mine. A gateway to another realm.