Doorways

Welcome to Wednesday’s flash fiction wherein I write, as part of a group, a flash fiction based on the same short prompt and post the story.

Smoke curled from the equipment I bent over. Sitting back, I threw my tool watching its flight and Clair roll her eyes as it smacked the wall next to her. When’d she come in?

“Progress report?” she said her voice feigned neutrality. As if we weren’t all desperate.

I gestured toward the blacked board. She leaned next to me gnawing her lip. “Try again.”

“I have tried again,” I said spinning away. “And again, and again, and again. Nothing works. We’re trapped here.”

She grabbed my shoulders as she spun me back. “You have to unlock the gate. You’re meant to.”

“Maren was meant to,” I snapped sliding off the chair and away. “I haven’t the training.”

“You were taught enough. Trust yourself. You’re strong. Maren couldn’t withstand one even visitation.” Clair’s voice was quiet. “We need you.”

I shuddered remembering the lifeform’s touch. Out of phase, intangible. Whatever they were they knew we were here. They came more frequently. And I couldn’t open our escape home. “I wish I’d never left earth.”

“You did,” Clair said. “We all did.” The final word garbled in her mouth and I turned. She’d gone white again. They were back. No, not again.

I turned back toward the workspace scrambling for a new board. Something touched my hand and I looked up. It was there, more tangible than before. Not human, not with those hollow eyes. “Open this door instead,” a voice pulsed in my mind. I screamed.

Don’t forget to read the other’s takes on the prompt. More stories go up throughout the day. Be sure to check our page on Facebook for updates as everything becomes available: Wednesday Words.