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< Sideway 8 Hallway


I stand there gawping at the hallway stretching down into infinity. I spin around, hoping to retreat into the familiar setting of the pub, but I'm met with a blank wall.

Damn, I left my drink back at the counter. Luckily, I'm still a little schmozzled to laugh at the situation. Nothing bad can happen to me here...right?

I close my eyes and stumble forward, feeling for the door handles...wait, did that door not have a handle at all?

Well, here we go...I push on the door and open my eyes at the same time.

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~fungmungus wrote (thread):

There was a handle. You turned it, and with eyes closed walk inside. You can't resist a glance as the door swings closed behind you. You see the number 17 in brushed brass.

You stand in a room . . . or at least you think it is a room. Hundreds, perhaps even thousands of tree trunks, of different bark textures, fill the space. They rise up into darkness. No limbs can be spotted before the blackness consumes their height. The only light in the space a small firefly like lights that gently encircle each trunk. The ground is uniformly tiled linoleum of a soft mint green. Somewhere, further into the forest room, you hear the soft sound of flute-like music. You feel compelled to seek it out.

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