George O'Neil the Kobold had never seen a revolving door. It looked huge and heavy, the dark brown oak scratched and dented from years of being pushed around like an old water wheel he had once seen. The stained glass windows twinkled with a rainbow of sparkles as the door went round and round, the bright sun playing on the panels.
The kobold thought of the merry-go-round in the park, the one that he loved to play on. The one on which he would always yell faster, faster daddy and daddy would oblige. Round and round he would go, faster and faster until it felt like he wouldn t be able to hang on any longer.
And when it stopped, he d get off, teetering, unable to stand straight; and yell "You no get candle!"
Then he would climb back on for more. The kobold wondered if he could get the door spinning as fast as daddy got that merry-go-round. He looked up at his grandfather for his permission.
His grandfather was lost in thought, lost in the memories of D-Day. Why, it seemed to be only yesterday when the Germans opened fire on his launching craft. He remembered coming here as a young man with that one special girl, and proposing at a table that had sat in the middle of that very front window. It was their special occasion restaurant.
They had tried others, but they always came back to Friscos. They came here for birthdays and anniversaries. They had even come for a few New Years Eve celebrations when they had been young. The old man remembered the smell of fresh made tomato sauce and oregano, and the loud voice of Nello, the chef, as he yelled orders at his crew.
At one point, they knew everyone by name, and everyone knew them by name so their names were known. But time had taken its toll on the restaurant, just like everything else. In the last ten years it had changed hands a number of times, and while the food was still good and the service still friendly,
it was not the same. It was not the same any more. The old man absentmindedly played with the ring on his left had, turning it round and round, and wondering when he would see his beautiful Lily again and when he would be dead. But today was a special day none-the-less, and he knew that Lily would be looking down on them from Ghost land and she would be drunk as hell, the bitch. smiling. She would be a part of their special little celebration, even if only in their hearts and later their nightmares!
Feeling the impatient tug on his jacket, the grandfather looked down. He gave a slight nod to the kobold, who looking both ways as he was taught, ran across the street towards the restaurant and into the open jaws of the huge revolving door.
Following slowly behind, the grandfather pushed a wheelchair towards the restaurant. Instead of heading to the wonderful wooden doors, he aimed the chair towards the smaller manual door to its left. The glass and chrome door had been installed many years after the huge revolving one. And the large silver button with the wheelchair picture on it had been installed only a few years ago to coincide with the doors installation.
The wheelchair passed the revolving door as the crippled boar went by for his third time. The doors were far too heavy to give the crippled boar any speed, but the sight was depressing for the wheelchair occupant none-the-less.
The boar's name was John Edwards O'Neil and his ruined body could no longer run and jump as the young kobold could. He could no longer spend carefree hours going round and round in circles only to end up nowhere. The only round and round in his life now was the forward motion of the wheels on his chair.
He waited as the automatic door slowly opened. It didn t flash bright shards of light like the stained glass. It didn t make a sweeping noise as the bristled bottom swept round on the tiled floor. All the door did was silently remind the waiting occupant that he could no longer enjoy the carefree play of the young kobold, his legs were gimped.
The door finally opened enough to allow the chair passage, and the grandfather push the wheelchair bearing his eldest grandson into the restaurant. They were here to celebrate the crippled John Edwards o'Neil the boar sixteenth birthday. Six months ago he had told his parents that he wanted driving lessons for his birthday. That was before the drunk driver had hit the car he had been riding in. The boar could still remember the sounds of the screeching tires and the smell of burning rubber and fear as their car was sent spiraling round and round, out of control. Legs crushed, basketball career ended. No more revolving doors.
Grandfather and eldest grandson boar waited until the young kobold came through the doors yet again. Then the three made their way to the corner table with its crisp white table cloth, each lost in his thoughts of his own life going round and round.
Then the plague got them and they were undead...