Into the Light

There was a door in the middle of a field.

Not just any old door, either, lying about, forgotten and alone, left to rot and fall apart. No, this door was upright. Nothing he could do would make it budge from where it stood solidly, threshold firmly planted in the ground. It was green, and had kind of eerie, sickly glow seeping around the edges and through the keyhole.

Adam frowned and walked around the door once, twice, three times, inspecting it from top to bottom. There were no anchors helping it to stay up, at least none that he could see.

On the side he stood on, the field had been somewhat trampled, flattened to make a sort of golden pathway that lead up to the doorway. He raised a hand, curled it into a fist, and moved to knock on the door.

Adam was startled when his fist moved through the air, connecting with... nothing. The door swung open, blinding him momentarily with a pale yellowish-green light.

If anyone had been watching, they might have said it looked almost as if he had been enveloped by it. Adam certainly felt that way. If light could create feelings beyond warmth, he would say this light made him queasy, even uncomfortable. It gave him a headache, caused his awareness to grow fuzzy, almost as if he were drunk.

He stumbled, felt a toe stub against the threshold, causing him to trip, his body passing through the doorway. He fell, continued to fall, felt as if he were weightless and yet knew with certainty that he was so heavy that gravity would catch him, yank him down, far below - so far that he couldn't even see - and slam him into earth. He would die. Perhaps he was already dead.

Adam had no idea what was going to happen to him.

And to be honest, neither did the light that had pulled him in.