By Michael L. Turner
Every day, I walked those woods. From here to there, and back again, but never
the same way twice. Then one day, when I
was less than halfway between here and there, I chanced upon a door. Such an ordinary thing it might have been, and
this might have been just an ordinary place for such a thing to be, but
standing part way open, it was a calling to any curious soul that happened
by. At its threshold I stood, staring at the darkness beyond. I leaned
left, and I leaned right, but the light of day did not stretch far. Into my pocket I reached and my last night
candle I found, but only a single match for a single light. Caution urged me on, but curiosity asked me
to stay. I looked upward at a sun, tilting toward evening. I was
only halfway there, and still far from back again, but I never traveled the
same way twice. The match was struck, the candle lit, and through the door I stepped.
Art by wyldraven
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