Flower Field Door

There was only one rule: don't open the door. That is what the red flowers seemed to whisper when Clara stood in front of the glowing orange door. Each night when taking a walk, she passes by staring. Her skin tingles the closer she stands. Her whole body tells her to walk in, but the flowers warn her that she won't be able to turn back and will regret it.

She started taking a friend to accompany the walks, but the door was gone as if only her alone. She kept asking for someone to walk with, but the feeling of wanting to stand by the door returned. Her night walks were once again alone as she touched the outside of the door and an inviting blaze ran through her, an amplification of the usual prickling skin. The door was too enticing just from the outside.

As she went to open the door, the flowers screamed as urgently as they could. "I have to go through!" she screamed back to them. They became silent as she made her choice. She opened the door and crossed the threshold, the pleasant tingling slowly turning into a burn that started to consume. She turned to grab at the open door, but it slammed shut. The flowers wept as Clara was taken, her ashes spread across the flower beds.