This week’s story prompt is wide open, with many possibilities. Where are we going? Where did we come from? Am I wearing the right outfit? Do I have enough money to pay for what’s about to happen? Why are there no other people here? Are we in trouble? What country is this? Is there a wi-fi connection?
The sun appears to be behind us. Are we running from the sun? Is it exploding? Does it smell like Narnia in here? Am I going to regret not finishing the book that’s been languishing on my nightstand for three months? Is this what my psychic was talking about when she said there would be many doors in my future?
But these aren’t really doors, are they? Is this a Druid thing? Oh my God, are we headed to a human sacrifice? Does this lead to a volcano? (But they don’t throw in the non-virgins, right? I haven’t been a virgin since paper was invented.) Wait, paper. Do I need my passport? It’s back at the villa, next to the many sad, empty sangria bottles from that sing-along last night. (Note to self: No more harmonizing in Spain. Just, no.)
Wait, I think I see something just on the other side of the second (alien? Guatemalan? French Resistance?) portal. It looks just like… hell, I better go check this out.
Categories: Flash Fiction