©2019-2021 Michael Raven

He’d barely turned the key when the chimeric visions fell in layered veils over his sight, already hinting at what lay beyond the liminal threshold he was about to cross The gut wretch, a fellifluous and acid burning of the lower chakras, as the tumbler turned and the scribed door swung away from Llew.

He had second thoughts, but knew it was well beyond the time for second thoughts. So he crammed those fears into that place deep within where they could shriek in the silence within, unheard.

The gateway yawned before him, multicoloured and writhing, the angles turning in on themselves.

Llew didn’t believe in Heaven, but he feared his next step would confirm his suspicions about Hell.

Again, it was too late to reconsider. To walk away now would leave this door open and, eventually, something from the other side would notice and come forth. And, tethered as he was to the portal now that he’d opened it, that something would follow that gossamer-thin thread to him and his life forfeit. The price to close the door once opened was passage. So he stepped forth, letting the door slam behind him as he fell in space to wherever he might land.

Yet another social media flash fict effort published two years ago today, with minimal editing once transcribed here. OED word of the day used as trigger was “fellifluous”.

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