Between Two Doors (Sedona, 1974)
- jessiehaynes2
- Sep 7
- 2 min read
In 1974, when I was six years old, my parents packed up our lives in New York and pointed our old Volvo toward California. A crib mattress was laid across the back, and that’s where I rode—lounging with my dog, Denver, as we bumped along winding autumn roads. No seatbelts, no worries. Just miles and miles of road and the thrill of leaving behind first grade, which had already bored me to tears with worksheets and bullies.
We stopped in Sedona, Arizona, to visit friends. For my mom, always a little witchy, it felt like sacred ground. She made my dad pull over so she could stand alone in the desert, soaking up the energy of red earth, cactus, and endless sky. For me, it was like landing on another planet.
At Toni’s house, I ran with neighborhood kids, raked leaves, and learned about black widow spiders. My dad and I explored a creek where lizards skittered over rocks and fish leapt through a waterfall. The whole place felt magical—otherworldly even.
And then came the night.
I woke suddenly in the guest room, heart hammering. At the doorway stood a small figure. For a moment, my mind reached for the simplest answer: a child? But then came the thought—something’s wrong… the eyes are too big. The head is shaped like an egg on its side.
The “hair” wasn’t hair at all, just ridges pressed like clay. The clothes looked like children’s, but the being wasn’t human.
Terror rooted me to the bed as the figure approached. I shut my eyes, hoping it would vanish, but the darkness was worse. When I opened them, the thing was inches from my face, staring. I snapped my eyes closed again. When I dared to look, it was retreating—slipping out through another door.
I turned toward the first doorway. Another figure entered. Boy, girl, boy, girl—they came in a sequence. I pinched myself beneath the blankets, whispering the old phrase: Pinch me, I’m dreaming. But I was awake. The sting in my leg proved it.
Eventually, the night dissolved into dawn. Pale light spilled through the window. I looked around, shaken but alert—and froze.
There was only one door in the room.
The doorway I had watched them enter through, one after another, simply did not exist.
I told myself it must have been a dream. But I knew better.
ARIZONA, Jessie Haynes
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