Showing posts with label
What's behind the door? and What's behind the door.
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Showing posts with label
What's behind the door? and What's behind the door.
Show all posts
I used to walk past that simple wooden door with its chain that said something but did little. I knew I should not approach and go through the door, yet that which was supposed to stop me was so pathetic it seemed more like an invitation.
From the age of six I would wonder what was behind that door. At 13 I found out.
Randomly choose an ending: Either 1) a, 2) b, or 3) c
Written for Friday Fictioneers from the following picture prompt:
I
used to walk past that simple wooden door with its chain that said
something but did little. I knew I should not approach and go through
the door, yet that which was supposed to stop me was so pathetic it
seemed more like an invitation.
From the age of six I would wonder what was behind that door. At 13 I found out.
There was nothing spectacular, though.
When I picked the lock and opened the door I discovered the building was a facade only, a construction hiding an exposed section of railway.
If it weren’t for the chain…
Return to pick another ending.
Written for Friday Fictioneers from the following picture prompt:
I
used to walk past that simple wooden door with its chain that said
something but did little. I knew I should not approach and go through
the door, yet that which was supposed to stop me was so pathetic it
seemed more like an invitation.
From the age of six I would wonder what was behind that door. At 13 I found out.
There were ten of them.
Dark wizards, all, with piercing eyes and crooked, gnarled wands.
Come to uncover our plot, they asked with a wicked grin before releasing me back into the world as a frog.
Return to pick another ending.
Written for Friday Fictioneers from the following picture prompt:
I
used to walk past that simple wooden door with its chain that said
something but did little. I knew I should not approach and go through
the door, yet that which was supposed to stop me was so pathetic it
seemed more like an invitation.
From the age of six I would wonder what was behind that door. At 13 I found out.
I met a man who didn’t want to be bothered.
A fascinating man who’d made himself lonely following a much too full young life.
We became firm friends and I accompanied him in his final years.
Return to pick another ending.
Written for Friday Fictioneers from the following picture prompt:
