Rachel’s nails carve crescent moons into her shaking palms. The hag’s lips split in a wide smile, and she opens the door revealing … dense blackness. Something, equal parts wonderful and terrifyingly powerful, hides in the depths. Bracing one hand on frame, Rachel leans closer. The impermeable shadows whisper indistinct promises.
A shiver runs through her. Some inner sense warns if she does it, if she steps over the threshold, she’ll never be able to go back.
As she starts drawing back, something hits her back, slamming into the spot directly between her shoulder blades, and she trips over her dripping skirt, hurtling head first into the shack.
This week's prompt was provided by the talented Rich Voza. My story took a sharp turn from what I expected to write, that's how things go sometimes. Links to the creative writers participating in this week's challenge can be found here. Thanks for taking the time to read my flash fiction.