A Single Match

The room is dark. It scares you a little but you decide that you must venture forward, and that the way to do that lies around you. Beside you there is a greenish, luminous match, hovering in the air, and it could be that answer to get rid of the darkness.

Unfortunately, you realize that there is nothing to strike the match against; there is nothing to make light from.

Your hands start to tremble. Panic runs through your body.

Am I going to be trapped here in the dark? you wonder to yourself.

Then an idea hits you: perhaps the walls are hard enough to cause a flame. So you take the match from the air in front of you and, suddenly, it seems to light itself, becoming a torch.

The light from the makeshift torch seems to swell and grow to fill the room with a golden glow. You can now see a long corridor that stretches as far as your view. It’s boxed in, and the only way to go is forward because, as you look back behind yourself, you can see that the way you came from is becoming darker and darker; turning more and more ominous. You dare not face that nothingness.

So you start to tiptoe forwards, logically feeling very apprehensive, but also excited about what is to come in this strange new land. Soon (sooner than you would have expected from your view that the corridor appeared almost endless) you reach the end of your walk and are stopped by a mysterious door. It has weird twisted symbols which are foreign to your eyes, embossed out of the woodwork in a pattern that repeats every three symbols, a large, shining, brass knocker above some of the main symbols (which are winding around the whole door and leading into the middle) and a relatively normal-looking door-handle.

But something tells you that getting through this door is not going to be as straight-forward as it looks.

Do you…

 

The End

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