Pandora Paradox * Bina
“Oh, you know, just open an ancient 1000 year old door. Nothing could go wrong!”
Ethereal swirls of clear ectoplasm and ghastly screams alike create an array of vivid colors, as cyan streaks mix with magenta lines and tangerine clumps. Golden-trimmed and obsidian black, the box no bigger than a baseball animates to life as it starts gorging on olden, mahogany chairs and dusty desk lamps. Clear on its path, it nearly consumes his leg as he loses his luxury dress shoe to the storm inside the dank cellar. “Bina! Get behind something!” He screams, though unsure if heard as the roaring of the cursed coffer continues its rampage, taking another hefty chunk, this time of the wall. Behind the brick and mortar lies not of the soft ground that surrounded them, but rather a streak of cosmic insight, as starry landscape replaced the earth before them. The tornado aims for the ceiling, ripping apart the floorboard to expose not the living area nor the kitchen, but of galaxies and nebulas as Yoo rushes for the peach door in hopes of an escape. As the wind intensifies, he almost loses his footing, grabbing the knob at the last moment to brace. Turning in desperation, he opens, to find a distant sun in his view rather than the ground floor of the haunted house. In shock, he missteps and becomes victim to the eye of the monstrous suction, losing his gaze of gaseous space and turning it all into the void of darkness.
What felt an eternity passes before he opens his eyes again, clear in a white-walled room from top to bottom. A slit upon the wall remains beside a door with no latch nor handle, however a key hole, with no key in plain sight. Surprised, Yoo pats his body, assuming any injury and finding none whatsoever. Another door across this one, with a clear window in which he spots Bina. Tap! Tap! Fingernails meet the glass, as he calls for her attention, “Bina!” Feeling the soft cushion of the floor against his shoeless foot, he recalls similar layouts in mental institutions, as to avoid any possible harm to the one locked up within. They are those prisoners now, and yet, the door with no key beckons a chance. A spellcaster’s prison, for sure... He makes up logic to justify and calm his mind.
Unraveling his jacket, he balls it up into a fist, sharding up his arm and hand with draconic scales and readying a punch in retaliation to the poor glass in front. “Stand back!” Gesturing her to step away as he finishes covering his arm, the man slams the transparency once, then twice, then thrice, realizing that this is no mere one way. He does so once more for good measure, to little avail, before giving up the aggression. He drops the blazer unto the floor, cupping his mouth to better vocalize instruction to her, “Do you see anything in the room?!” Unsure what lay inside hers, he leaves her to it as he turns around to rescan his own cell.
@chovmbna








