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The Wrong Door

3 min readOct 31, 2023

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Trapped

Spanish Rooftops — Moraira

After a long journey we arrived at our holiday destination.

My mum, my sister and I.

It was a lovely hot day with blue skies and a view looking out across the blue sea. A perfect view and we felt relaxed.

Breathing in the fresh air we smiled at the familiar view. We have been here many times before but not to this apartment. Weith bags unpacked we thought we would take a moment to look around and explore. We had come up in the lift but there were stairs that took you on upwards.

Where would they go?

We decided we would take a look and see.

We made our way onwards and upwards.

Pictures and plants made the bare corridors look more homely and personal.

We can to a metal door, there were plain concrete steps that led to the end of the line. Pulling down the handle of the door we pushed open the door. It opened with a rumbling metallic creak. Ahead was a wide open flat rooftop.

Walking out we quietly shut the door behind us.

The large open space had metallic air conditioning vents. They spun and glittered in the sunlight. Their weird shapes against the blue sky looked strangely unreal.

Time to explore and look around.

From high up here we could see the familiar village below, we could see the canopies of the restaurants. Their diners sitting underneath in the shade.

We could look along the narrow streets, a different perspective.

Reflections of the tall trees waved gently in the breeze, mirrored in the buildings opposite.

We were high above it all. It felt like a secret world where no one else existed. High up here, above the treetops we could see into the distance.

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How peaceful and quiet.

We turned ready to go back down to our apartment.

Pushing down on the door handle we tugged to open the door. But it would not move. We pushed it but still it would not open.

It was locked!

Oh, no!

We pulled and pushed again but the door stayed firmly shut.

What would we do? How would we get down?

We would need help, but how?

From the edge of the rooftop, we looked down to see if there was anyone we could call to for help. We looked at the canopies of the restaurant, how could we get their attention? We were so far up would they hear our calls? Would they understand our cries for help?

We turned back to the door.

Oh! There was a wall divider and on the other side there was another door; just the same.

We ran to try the other door.

Phew!

It opened with a satisfying creak, opening up to the familiar staircase we had climbed up.

Of course!

We had tried the wrong door. This is where we should to go.

Giggling with relief we made our way back to our apartment.

Safe at last.

Memorable Moraira rooftop photos

https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.1926412504251996&type=3

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Sue Wickstead
Sue Wickstead

Written by Sue Wickstead⁠

I’m a teacher and children’s author. My stories are inspired by adventures with a Playbus as well as being a teacher and a Nanny