Rigging the Timber

I gripped the dark cane resting inside the ceramic umbrella crock by the door. The woven runner at the threshold had offered only passage, but here rose a proper mainmast to scout what lies beyond that giant portal. Scaling the ribbed handle, I wedged my boots into the grooved crook near the lip. Tucked between two folded umbrellas lay a length of thick jute twine, forgotten and frayed at both ends. I drew my cutlass to test the fibers, then lashed the cord securely around the cane’s shaft. A sturdy halyard is set. When that door finally swings open to the outer world, I will have the rigging ready to haul.