Not Narnia then...
I'm not very bright. I've never been very bright to be honest, I suspect I was upended and sent crashing floorways as a young 'un and that's left my brain somewhat less capable than it might otherwise have been. Of course those most likely responsible for this undue and overly hasty meeting between head and floor are quick to deny it, but they can't fool me... unless they show me shiny things, then I tend to forget what I'm talking about and they can beat a hasty retreat leaving me lost and confused, which is, quite conveniently, precisely how I felt during the episode I'm about to tell tale of...

Now:

I was younger. I know this much as it happened sufficiently long ago that I not only lived with my parents, but couldn't possibly imagine a day when I might not. I was also, therefore, more diminutive, although I can't boast grand proportions still, I was then of a size that allowed me to clamber into a space the size of, say, an airing cupboard. And that's precisely what I did.

Imagining adventures beyond my wildest dreams I shifted the piles of raw ironing aside, cleared a space for my tiny frame to squeeze into and clambered onto the shelf like a slightly arthritic monkey swinging not so freely from branch to flimsy branch. Once established in my new den I set about making sure the door would close, before commencing the task of returning to my own room and searching for a torch with which to illuminate my exciting adventures in the world of cupboard.

Instantly the darkness was complete and it caused me sufficient surprise that I jumped in fright and banged my head, increasing my slowness further. I didn't like it in the least bit and I wanted out, right out, right away. "Fuck this" I might have thought, no adventure was worth this terror; no torch no airing cupboard adventure and that was that.

So I pushed the door: nothing. So I pushed again, assuming I hadn't put enough effort into my initial shove, but still nothing. I tried again, harder still, but its stubbornness withstood my efforts and a sequence of recent events passed through my brain: I had wandered, absent-minded and filled with vacant childish joy into my mum's bedroom and spied the airing cupboard in the corner. I'd walked over to it contemplating the adventures that lay within and, stopping only to admire the magical moving me picture on the wall, I'd then lifted the catch, cleared the space and climbed in. That was it, so why was the door not... hold on, I'd lifted the catch before I could open the do... Lifted. Catch. Ku. A. Tu. Chu. Hu. Catch.

I knew I was trapped. Locked in a world of darkness and uncomfortably dry and tepid air. Surrounded by softness but enclosed by blackened terror a tear traced the outline of my chubby cheek and I began to cry.

"Muuum!" came the squeaky, useless whimper from the deepest shallows of my throat.

"Muuuuuuuuuum!" it attempted again, still to no avail. I banged the door, weakly at first but soon with more vigour, more determination and more urgency.

"Muuuuuuuuum!" I'd started to find a voice as my panic grew and my fists beat a terrified rhythm on the inside of the door.

"MUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUM!" I wasn't going to die in there. I refused to be a local news story, a lesson learnt by other retarded children about the dangers of climbing into things with catches on the door.

"MUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUM!" I almost let myself smile as I allowed myself to believe in an immanent emancipation from my laundry scented cell.

"MUUUU..."

"What's all this bloody noise?" the door flew open and my Mum's lovely, angry face beamed a stupefied irritation, while my brothers danced with hopeful expectation at the beating sure to be meted out for my grotesque disturbance. Tears streamed down my face as I blinked at the rush of light, and a scene reminiscent of an earthquake victim being freed from the rubble of their once home was played out as I leapt into my Mum's unsuspecting arms and attached myself to her with a determination never to let go.

Never again did I allow myself to be seduced by small, dark cupboard based adventures, at least not without checking the closing mechanism first, but sometimes, when I close my eyes at night, the light scent of cheap washing powder drifts into my mind's nose and I'm taken back to the terror I suffered in the world of airing cupboard.
( Moey, Fri 24 Jul 2009, 17:12, 2 replies)

Haha
Well written and deserves a click.
( whenanimalsattackhumans clad in global hypercolour, Fri 24 Jul 2009, 17:23, closed)

I have also done exactly this.
Except I hid in order to jump out at my brother as he left the bathroom. He still reminds me of this to the present day. I was 17 at the time.
( Fezzett This post may contain elements of sarcasm, Sun 26 Jul 2009, 15:39, closed)