Fiction & history in no particular order

THE FLOWER TUNNEL

THE FLOWER TUNNEL

Taking a deep breath, she entered the flower tunnel. As she moved forward her confidence began to ebb away, replaced by a growing fear. The black and white flowers, so sophisticated and elegant looking at first, began to look grotesque as the light faded. The petals and leaves surrounding her looked skeletal, like colorless fungus in a cave that never saw day.

She glanced back, her tread brushing against the flowers on the floor, sounding like voices whispering. The light looked as if it was walking away from her rather than her walking away from it, and part of her wanted to stop and implore it: “Please don’t go.”

At the moment when the circle of light was no bigger than her fist, her knees trembling, her breath shallow and fast, when she was ready to turn and run back, admit failure, hubris, whatever it took, she saw the light ahead of her.

It was different than the blue-white light behind her. It was golden and as she moved closer she realized the leaves and petals around were no long black and white, but multi-hued. There were so many colors, so many shades and variations of greens, blues, yellows – the rainbow and more – she did not know the names of them all.

At the end of the flower tunnel she stepped out into a garden unlike anything she had seen before.

Her legs were firm. Her breathing was calm and deep. And yet she was more frightened than she had ever been in her life.

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Scene inspired by this photo.

“Endless Hole Notebook” by toxictidus