Hall of Infinite Doors
Did you ever get the feeling that you were doing something that you shouldn't be? You know, like when you see a a light show of dangling live wires and you decide to see what's on the other side? Under most circumstances, many people would decide to back away at that point, unless they were being offered an inordinate sum of cash, like all the money that Apple makes selling overpriced audio playback devices. Maybe. It really depends on how much they value their life. Personally, I wouldn't do it for anything less than two hundred sex slaves, immortality, and spider powers.
You, however, weren't doing it for money, sex, or totally awesome superpowers. You might have been doing it just for the sake of doing it. Perhaps you were suicidal, who knows? I can't see what the hell was going on in your brain. Most likely, however, it was the result of a certain detrimental desire creeping into your quasi-rational mind.
Curiosity. It killed the cat, and very soon it's going to kill you as well.
A pity you weren't as curious to see what was behind the curtain of glass beads. That one looked innocuous. And the way it sparkled under the chandelier's flickering light gave it a certain artistic flair. Perhaps it was planned that way. There might have been an art gallery behind that one. Or a castle of gold, with scantily clad dancing angles serving your caprices and feeding you bunches of grapes while you lay on a velvet lounge chair.
Taking a step back, you ran at the curtain, fervently hoping that the wires wouldn't truncate your young life. Your eyes were shut tightly, as though it would help shield you from the inevitable pain.
Ah, the wonders of ignorance.
Before you got even halfway through the morass of live wires, your left leg exploded in pain as one of the dangling wires came in contact with your thigh, sending a powerful shock through your body. Stumbling over, a few of the chords glaze your back and neck-the searing agony was enough to knock you straight to the floor. Lying on top of even more wires shooting off tiny blue firework displays, you felt the pain slowly die down. Perchance it was the numbing effect of the electricity, or yet another one of the hall's myriad oddities. More likely, though, it was something you didn't plan on thinking about for another sixty-so years.
Whatever you were thinking was washed away in a torrent of regret. A pity it had to end like that, there were so many cooler ways of dying. Like seppuku, for instance.
A faint jerking feeling brought you back into consciousness. Were you dead? You couldn't feel anything, and your body wouldn't respond to any of your commands, but you could think, which must mean you're still exist. Some dead guy said something along those lines, though he said it with an erudite flair that made it seem all intellectual.
You, however, weren't doing it for money, sex, or totally awesome superpowers. You might have been doing it just for the sake of doing it. Perhaps you were suicidal, who knows? I can't see what the hell was going on in your brain. Most likely, however, it was the result of a certain detrimental desire creeping into your quasi-rational mind.
Curiosity. It killed the cat, and very soon it's going to kill you as well.
A pity you weren't as curious to see what was behind the curtain of glass beads. That one looked innocuous. And the way it sparkled under the chandelier's flickering light gave it a certain artistic flair. Perhaps it was planned that way. There might have been an art gallery behind that one. Or a castle of gold, with scantily clad dancing angles serving your caprices and feeding you bunches of grapes while you lay on a velvet lounge chair.
Taking a step back, you ran at the curtain, fervently hoping that the wires wouldn't truncate your young life. Your eyes were shut tightly, as though it would help shield you from the inevitable pain.
Ah, the wonders of ignorance.
Before you got even halfway through the morass of live wires, your left leg exploded in pain as one of the dangling wires came in contact with your thigh, sending a powerful shock through your body. Stumbling over, a few of the chords glaze your back and neck-the searing agony was enough to knock you straight to the floor. Lying on top of even more wires shooting off tiny blue firework displays, you felt the pain slowly die down. Perchance it was the numbing effect of the electricity, or yet another one of the hall's myriad oddities. More likely, though, it was something you didn't plan on thinking about for another sixty-so years.
Whatever you were thinking was washed away in a torrent of regret. A pity it had to end like that, there were so many cooler ways of dying. Like seppuku, for instance.
A faint jerking feeling brought you back into consciousness. Were you dead? You couldn't feel anything, and your body wouldn't respond to any of your commands, but you could think, which must mean you're still exist. Some dead guy said something along those lines, though he said it with an erudite flair that made it seem all intellectual.