By Anna Stein
Breathe. In. Out.
Then:
Run.
Wind caught Izzy’s hair as she ran. Her door was ahead. She could be fast enough this time. Snow crunched underfoot.
Her door always looked different. Today, it appeared as a frosty mirror nailed to an oak. She knew no oaks grew here.
The sun was nearly gone, and her chances with it. If she could only reach—
One hand touched not-glass before the horizon swallowed the sun. The door closed, leaving her prone beneath snowy pines.
Izzy tolerated one moment of rest. So close.
Tomorrow there would be a new door. She would try again.
Well written; I want to know what happens next. Success snatched from your hands at the last minute..
Will it be again, or is this one of life’s never ending tricks – it plays with us you know?
Kind of a wistful story. Will the merry go round ever end or is it a perpetual ride without a dismount?
Magical story… seems like it would be a great beginning of a longer story. Nicely done!
It certainly does leave much to the imagination and the reader yearning to know more. Could be fantasy or a touch of metaphor explaining a real-life situation. Either way, I’m keen to read more!