The Willing

The group of strangers huddled close to one another in the darkened room. They had willingly entered despite a hint of apprehension hanging in the atmosphere, guided by a faint red glow from an unidentified source. There wasn’t enough light to give form to anything in the room, or even the walls defining the space, only a soft outline of the tops of heads.

The door had slammed behind them, shutting out any noise besides the collective breathing. Nobody said a word.

From nowhere there came a gust of cold air, that whirled around the huddle and drew them closer together. Each person was straining to see into the darkness hoping eyes would adjust, but nothing became clearer.

In a blinding flash the space illuminated, causing the group to shield dilated pupils that couldn’t react fast enough to the bright light. The room was white and empty with smooth pristine walls, floor and ceiling, and a single door directly ahead. A brave soul stepped tentatively forward to place a palm on the door, pushing gently in the absence of a handle. It gave way and swung open with a sigh, revealing a room much the same as this one. Glancing back over his shoulder at the rest of the group, the courageous door pusher shrugged his shoulders and hoped that others would join him to explore further.

They did, moving almost as one; a slow doubtful swarm. They filtered through the doorway as the lights flickered, plunging them into darkness once more. After an uncomfortable pause a light shone from the room they had just excited. Some from the back of the pack turned to catch a glimpse of her.

A sudden intake of breath and a muffled shriek caused others to follow suit, until everyone could see the spotlight in the first room. Lying on the floor was a young lady. Her fair hair covered her face and her outstretched arms clutched something that’s couldn’t be identified from a distance.

Was this part of the play, or had something gone very wrong?