Gavin Hume always had a hard time stepping through doors. It was his job, but there was always the risk that this door would lead straight into outer space or the middle of the ocean or five hundred feet in the air or any other disaster. He’d stepped through doors that led right into a dinosaur chase, doors that led to sex scenes that turned into serial killer murderfests, and one door that led to the inside of an aquarium. He managed to survive them all, but he worried his luck would run out.
The Library of Doors led to literally countless fictional worlds. There was no telling what kind of story a door led to–you just had to step through and hope for the best. And Hume, as a meta detective, was sworn to help all fictional characters to their happily ever afters–whether or not the original story had a happily ever after. That meant subverting tropes and manipulating story structure to ensure every character would end up alive and unharmed–main character or otherwise.
Yes, it was his job. He was paid in adventure. So he opened the door and stepped through.
A rush of water slapped him across the face, sending his coat flapping outward. He thought he was drowning, but he had his feet on solid ground. Unsteady solid ground…
Blinking through the water droplets, Hume looked around to find wooden railings, swinging ropes, and white sails stretching into the sky. He was on a ship. And…
Men were swinging from the ropes. At first Hume thought they were fighting, or engaging in some swashbuckling, but the swings seemed choreographed. Men garbed in simple breeches and slippers twirled down the masts, and men in bandannas and the odd tricorne hat marched along the wooden railing of the ship’s rim. Several more swept mops along the deck in flowing rows of choreographed movements, pattering the mop heads to create synchronized splash sounds.
It was then that Hume realized they were all singing.
A sea shanty, of course. But not just any sailors’ tune. This was a full song and dance number. Hume had made his way into a musical. He almost wished he’d wound up in another horror show.
Thankfully, the crew of this vessel were too busy twirling and rhyming to notice Hume. So the meta detective kicked off his boots, whipped off his coat, and began boogying. But his awkward stepping and all-elbows arm movements were clearly out of place, and the seamen noticed immediately.
The song ceased. Everyone stared at Hume. Knives, cutlasses, and pistols appeared.
He still preferred this to the music.
Today’s three prompt categories were, “Shanty,” “Boogying,” and, “Meta detective.”
Oh Hume. You get in such wacky situations.