MagiStream

Open the door, close the door. Lock the door from the inside with the lock and the deadbolt. Keep walking. Trip on the lawnmower, like always.
Listen to the bus pull away from the curb. Wheels screeching outside, air brakes puffing unhappily, ailing but never replaced.
Turn around, climb three steps inside the garage. Key in the garage door, unlock, open, step in, close.
Agh, sunlight.
What?
Hold one hand up to block the sunlight. Stare around. The garage is gone- nothing but a green field remains, wind rippling over the golden-green grasses. Whirl around, grab for the door handle, but there is no door. Only the field.
Turn back again, and listen. Something is strange here- there is almost no sound. Only the wind, gusting over the grass and bending the tall stalks sideways with smooth invisible wings.
A bird calls. Then another. Above, there is a hawk, drifting lazily in circles on a thermal above the meadow. It screes again, and fold its wings. Watch it as it dives, slipping into the grass and vanishing. Seconds pass, and it flaps up again, claws empty. Its prey has escaped this time. Its tail flashes red as it beats tawny-chocolate wings for altitude.
Look around again. There is nothing here to determine this place's location. The door is gone, and there is no indication of it anywhere. Turn in a slow circle, and realize that the portal here is the only way to travel to this place and now it is gone.
You do not know where you are.
You cannot get home.

January 18th, 4004
Los Angeles

I hustled across the road and into an alleyway, tucked in a bundle of clothes. It was abnormally cold today, the smog from the factories cleared by a blast of Arctic chill. Though it was nice to finally be able to breathe without a mask on, the freezing temperatures had me running for every shortcut I could find.

This alleyway was one such shortcut. The reek of sewage hung in the air, stale and suffocating. I tucked my nose into my scarf, trying to take as small of breaths as physically possible.

In my hurry, I nearly tripped on something lying on the floor. Cursing colorfully, I regained my footing, looking back to see what I had stumbled on.

A low, weak growl emanated from the ragged, filthy form on the ground, piercing blue eyes glaring at me tiredly. Smaller versions of itself, skinny bundles of grey and white fur, whimpered softly as they attempted to nurse the dame's empty teats.

A wolf? No, I thought, a dog. I racked my brain for the animal facts my little brother had rattled on about as a child, but came up with nothing. For now, I decided it was probably a mutt.

Circling around it, I began to walk away. My apartment didn’t accept pets, but it wasn’t like I wanted that flea-ridden thing on my furniture anyways. I didn’t even know how to take care of a dog—no one had them these days but the extremely rich.

Then again… I turned back, and before I could regret it, took off my scarf and wrapped up one scrawny pup in its depths. One. I could take care of one. I could hide one.

The mother couldn’t protest, too tired to even lift her head from the ground. Without a second glance back, I hurriedly walked out of the alley, tucking the bundle into my purse as I left.