Lost Things: Snare

August Rode

A former Ficleteer...

It wasn't funny anymore. The first few times, maybe, but it had been several hours now and there was nothing remotely humorous about it. He wasn't yet ready to give up, though.

He reread the note, searching for some tiny scrap of useful information. He had thought that he was intended to retrieve something that he had lost but he now understood that there had been nothing lost here until he had stepped through that first door. What was lost was himself. Lost... and apparently trapped.

The rooms he wandered through were all identical hexagons, a door in every wall. Every door was identical. His key unlocked every door and every door led to yet another identical room with yet more identical doors.

Reasoning that going in a straight line should lead him to one of the building's exterior walls, he had been doing so for much of the last hour. No exterior wall presented itself. Perhaps this place was exempt from the rules of space and time.

As he fit his key to another door, he wondered if he would die here.


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Comments (1 so far!)



Well, the Library of All Things has to acquire the contents of its cases somehow.

  • #4281 Posted 3 years ago
  • 0

Inspired by (sequel to):

The floorboards creaked with my passage, threatening to collapse, but the key is to be sure and conf…

Lost Things
  • Published 3 years ago.
  • Story viewed 11 times and rated 0 times.

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