the tunnel walls are covered in paint and scribbles

​

an old man illuminated by candlelight hails you and offers a bowl filled with sour honey.

​

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you drink it--a warm trickle down your throat--a shiver across your scalp--darkness. . . 

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. . .when you wake, the wall scribbles are gone

and the sunlit opening behind you has become a cold brick wall.

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It is clear you've passed into another world, or perhaps another time.