100 word stories. Post all you like, maybe we'll dip in and use yours?
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I do not remember when the door appeared, but each night the scratches draw me to it. I stand there, my hand hovering inches away from the handle, unable to grasp it or pull away. Tonight I feel the cold metal before I even register I am out of bed. Perception shifts and I see through the door at a figure who takes my likeness. The world shifts and I am on the other side where the door has no handle. I am trapped and all I can do is scratch at the door in the hope that someone comes.
I peek through the cracks from a world where Reality Fractured