The Door

When Kate went to art class, she was surprised. Not only did they have a substitute but also Will's painting was missing from the classroom.

She greeted the substitute, "Where did Will's painting go," Kate asked the substitute, who was sitting behind the desk, newspaper covering his face.

"Who is Will?" said the teacher.

This isn't going anywhere, Kate thought as she took a good look at the room. The classroom had been cleaned. The tables, desk and chairs all put back in place. The easels were still there, and the paintings lay carefully on the table.

All the paintings were there, except that Will's was missing.

"I threw it out," said Will, who was pulling out a fresh canvas.

"Why?" was all Kate could wonder?

"I keep wishing I could be someone else. But maybe it is okay just being me," said Will.

"But, the painting…" Kate said. "What did you do with the painting?"

"Thrw it out," Will said.

"Mrs. Sanderson will be disappointed. She really liked that painting of yours. Not to mention, it is a grade. I really don't understand you, Will," said Kate.

Kate looked out the window at the dumpster. She thought about pulling it out. If if it just went out, maybe it would be at the top. The idea of even touching that dreadful, big blue thing full of trash, made her feel sick to her stomach.

"Hey, I can choose another piece of artwork. We still have another week to finish it. I can get it done fast and good. It's really no big deal, Kate," He told her.

Will looked confused. He didn't understand why Kate was so interested in his painting. "The painting… well, maybe we need it for them to return," she explained.

"He doesn't need it. Well, I don't think we need it to return," said Mona Lisa, slowly. "We all came out of your painting, Kate."

"But it appears you all took on some of our painting's qualities," Kate remarked, confused.

"We all came through your painting, Kate." Mona Lisa repeated. "Your painting was like a door into your world."

A thought came into Kate's mind. Maybe they could enter the paintings the same way they had come.

She went to the table where her painting was, and noticed, the rip was gone!

Kate sat down. Confusion overwhelmed her. What had happened to the painting?

"That is strange," noted The Thinker, walking over to the painting, and touching the canvas surface, thoughtfully. "The door is closed."