[spoiler]felt like writing something so I yoinked inspiration from Porch Day and made this. Didn’t proofread—as per usual—so tell me if you se any errors or strange writing. I should note I wasn’t able to think of a decent replacement noun for “door” in the 8 minutes I spent writing this, so that segments sounds a little off.[/spoiler] 5: A Porched Nightmare Sylver hummed a whimsical tune as he walked down a pristine yet cozy hall of his palace. The hall was silent save for the sound of torch-fires flapping in false wind. Today was a special day, and Sylver intended to take a rest on his favorite porch—one attached to a small cottage in a distant Twilit forest. It was quite a trek from the palace, but the dimensional nexus of the Valley obeyed Sylver. At the end of this hallway was a door that would lead him to the exterior of the cottage. Sylver crossed over the fine red rug decorating the hall at a skipping pace, the torches roaring slightly in the wind of his passing. He approached the only door in the long hallway, set with a round brass knob, and reached to open. Sylver paused with his hand around the knob. It was hot. Very hot. He twisted it, felt a release of air from the cracks in the doorway. He felt air resistance as he tried to open the door. As Sylver cracked the door, all he could see on the other side was red and black. He pushed it open and these colors expanded to fill the rest of his vision, accompanied by flashing light, roaring sound, and smothering heat. Shortly after these senses came a second wave of smoke and soot—so strong he choked. His eyes stung from the smog just as his skin did from the heat. It was like an apocalypse. The door slammed shut behind him, leave Sylver alone on his burning porch. Embers rose up, only to fall back down as currents shifted against the ceiling; the ash fell only one way. Sylver’s attention snapped to a board as it fell from above, striking the floor. Like a domino effect, more followed. Endless boards fell from the ceiling of an endless porch-y hellscape. The force of wooden impact soon began punching holes in the porch floor—holes that began to expand. The porch floor crumbled away, soon dropping from beneath Sylver’s feet. He fell backwards, face-up into the black abyss beneath the porch. He looked up at his lone porch, floating and burning in the void, as it slowly crumbled apart. He let out only one weak and desperate word, “No…” ...Before waking up. Sylver’s head jerked forward, leaning his rocking chair up. His hands clutched the arms hard enough to crack them. As the chair reached the apex of its forward rock, his boots hit the floor of his wonderful porch. It was all still here. It was a Porch Day miracle! [spoiler]Unexpected Christmas Carol[/spoiler]