A Nectar For The Heart
There were now very limited options for him to move forward to: the door sitting at the opposing end of the room, and the abnormal door, made of dark-brown wood that was embedded into the ceiling.
As he looked up towards the ominous door that was attached to the ceiling above his head, he felt a reluctance to venture down that path.
I'll save that one for last–seems like trouble, he thought.
What that left was the door directly north of the locked cube, leading him to a door frame forged of continuously blooming flowers, yet they decayed and crumbled to nothingness within moments; it was a perpetual cycle that persisted right before his eyes as if watching time speed up solely for the plants.
It was a mesmerizing sight; the plants clung to the threshold of the door, growing from mere, thin vines to flourishing flowers, then breaking down and repeating the process over, and over, and over.
Everything here just brings more questions–I'd like some answers soon, he thought.