Time again for Friday Fictioneers. Hosted every week by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields and eagerly anticipated by over 100 addictive contributors. A 100 word piece of fiction based on the photo prompt provided. Follow the link and have a go,
The door behind her opened and a familiar scent of leather and musk infused the warm evening air,
“Breathe, just breathe” trying to stop the suffocating blackness from wrapping round her chest. She did an internal checklist – Feet the required distance apart, hands palm down, thumbs parallel to the leather inlay, not touching. Never touching.
As always, the ink pot was her focal point. Like a bottomless lagoon, swirling, churning, seeping over the quill, until she was far, far away.
It ended. The door closed. Taking out her handkerchief, she wondered how many others had fallen into that same velvet lagoon over the years.