A novela I wrote, not much to day about it really.
“Aghhhhh!!” she cried, clutching her hands over her ears.
Time started moving again and she fell to the ground, her face landing ten centimetres away from the hard wooden door. She quickly backed up, her mind flicking back into sharp focus. It now seemed that her objective was simple, she wondered how she didn’t see it before.
Get into the lighthouse.
Whatever it took.
The door was locked, but all locked doors can be unlocked. It you have the right tools. Lucas had given her the key to get in, she was sure of it; she just needed to figure out how to use the key. Maybe it wasn’t a real key; it could be another riddle, another rhyme. Or maybe she was at the wrong door; perhaps this door wasn’t a door at all.
She stood up and stepped closer to the door. She ran her hand over the surface and felt something strange. The door was rougher than carved wood should be. She looked closer.
The door wasn’t there; it was painted onto the stone. Even the key hole was just a blob of black paint sitting underneath the door handle.
But I put the key into the lock just before, there was a hole there. I pulled on the door handles; they were sticking out only thirty seconds ago…
She didn’t understand it. One minute the door was there, the next is was just a drawing.
That proved it; this must be the wrong door. That’s why the key hadn’t worked. But there were no other doors not even a single window along the whole frame of the building.
Kisara decided that she would worry about that later. In the meantime she needed to get Lucas’s key back.
She started running as fast as she could towards the desert where the discarded key lay buried somewhere. She crossed the one hundred metre mark and suddenly felt an abrupt rise in the temperature. She stopped and looked around.
Where on the beach, everything had been dreary and grey, here it was red. Hot blinding, bitting red-orange sand surrounded her. She could no longer see the white lighthouse behind her. Only red. Yet despite the blistering heat, grey storm clouds still rolled overhead. The wind came in constant swift motions carrying tiny needles of sand in its wake.
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