A jet black door, furnished with grooves guards the room.
In the grain orbs, luminous, dance in the grooves phasing in and out of a forest of splinters, specks of violet and saffron.
The room itself is black. With the door shut, form is a mere memory. The room lacks any dimension, its hard to tell if there’s even a floor. You wouldn’t know if you were falling in here.
The visitor flails around, trying to find something tangible. Panic sets in so he just stands still. It seems to be the reasonable thing to do. The darkness is oppressive, its apparent infinity closing in.
In the blackness, subtle at first, amorphous orbs sway. Fuchsia, scarlet, saffron, azure and magenta come together in the haze. The circle around the visitor, lingering trails bathing him in rainbow threads. The will o’ the wisps twirl around the room tying knots with each others tails dog fighting in the gloam. Movement becomes speedy, frantic as the orbs spiral, bouncing off the walls. Magenta makes a break, scrambling through the ether, slamming into the door, blowing it open. The remaining orbs follow suite. The visitor stampede’s through the opening watching the orbs shoot down the corridor. He shuts the door on the empty room, the door still alive, the smaller orbs still running through the grain either unable or unwilling to escape.
Rough as always. Also it appears I’ve been obsessed with colours and lights recently.