Flash Fiction: The Dying World

Artist: Robert Bryer

"Do Not Enter" were the words scratched upon the old rugged door. Prince Je'thal removed the torch from its iron sconce, and though his hands trembled, he opened the gateway to the underworld beneath the castle.

He crept through the ghostly cave littered with human remains casting shadows as the flame passed over them. Dead men's whispers, "Turn … back … now," lingered. And dangling vines slithered snake-like from an earthy ceiling.

The prince remembered when the gatekeeper of the underworld first scratched "Do Not Enter," with his sword, onto the door. Moss had grown over its frame and spiderwebs clung from rusty hinges. Je'thal was a young apprentice then, as he stood by the gatekeeper, asking boyish questions.

Read More ...