Joni

Joni wasn't aware that she was trapped in the attic until later.  She was too distracted by the dog. It looked exactly like Snoop Dogg.  There was even a long joint dangling from its saggy dog lips, a spiraling white ribbon of smoke gently coming from its tip.

She realized she was just staring overly long at a pile of old clothing, toys, and unidentifiable debris that her mind had tricked her into seeing as a blunt smoking canine.  Joni was relieved.

But only briefly.

She turned back to the hatch in the floor she had come through.  It was jammed. Or locked? She wasn't sure which, but it wouldn't open for her.  It wouldn't move at all.  Not even a little wiggle.

Wait.

Did she even come in through this hatch? What did she come into the attic for? What house was this anyway?  Her brow furrowed and her eyes narrowed in concentration.

Joni found herself staring at her dark reflection in the screen of an old console television. It was missing both its knobs and some of the wooden scroll work was broken. Piled on top of it were hundreds of issues of National Geographic magazine.  And the Snoop Dogg-Dog was staring back at her in the reflection of the screen.

Spin.

Stare.

Nope. Just a pile of clothes and toys and junk.

A violent shiver moved from her toes to her head, causing her to curl her hands into fists.  A drop of rain hit the back of her hand. Barely out of the grip of the shiver, she looked up to the sky and promptly hit her head on the rafters.

Down to her knees and both hands up to her forehead.

Dizzy and nauseous and dripping with sweat she put all of her effort into pressing her eyes shut.  The plank floor under her rocked and swayed.  Her long forgotten dinner threatened to make itself both seen and heard again. She fought the food and rode the waves for several minutes.

Click.

Bang.

Releasing one eye to inspect the sounds, she discovered that the hatch had been unlocked and opened.  Refreshing cool air bubbled up from below. She inhaled deeply and felt her sense of center return, accompanied by a slight chill.

"You're welcome" Dogg-dog drawled around a ring of sweet smoke. He contemplated her. Briefly. Their eyes in clear contact.  Then he turned and padded away.  First between rows of cardboard boxes before disappearing behind an eight-drawer dresser sporting several ages worth of worn paint.

Joni looked at the hatch. She looked at the dresser and its layered paint. She looked at the hatch again. Leaning forward on all-fours, she crawled after Dogg-dog, also disappearing behind the dresser.

In the morning, her parents filed a missing persons report.  The local police briefly interrogated Joni's ex-boyfriend about her whereabouts, but eventually dropped the case.  Joni's picture still hangs in the hallway of the house she grew up in.