Your eyes draw onto box number 8 as you walk slowly towards it, a feeling inside of you like this is the right one to choose. As it is announced that you may open your box and reveal your fate, your hands draw closer to the lid of the black box, stumbling to open it. Eventually you are able to slip in your fingers and wrap them around a firm, thin stalk of a flower.

In the dim light it is difficult to make out the beautiful plant as you carefully take it out into another world different to the one it had found in that box. The petals of the flower almost look like leaves themselves, but died with a bright red. The centre of this flower is beautifully bejewelled with almost golden pearls.

You suddenly notice some paper tied onto the top part of the stem with a delicate, rosy pink ribbon, along with an old, rusting key that lightly bristled along the skin of your fingers as you held the flower. Your eyes flicker to the first piece of paper and read what is printed firmly on the burning white:

The Poinsettias Flower:

Almost as if to camouflage itself, this flower seems to want to hide away.

It's history of use to make red dye gives the impression that it wants to change.

However, it also holds a history of healing

and its association with Christmas allows it to gain

a generous image. 

As your mind wanders over the words you have read, your fingers flicker over to the second piece of paper which states clearly your path:

You Have Chosen Door Number Three

Your eyes suddenly flicker to the door, quite far away to your left, that holds the same number written on the paper that has just been read. Your feet begin to walk slowly towards the door, still holding the flower firmly in your grip. As you near the rotting feature your fingers twist around the key dangling from the flowers stem.

You let your fingers of your free hand wander over the rough wood that smothered the fate you had chosen once you had approached it. Lifting the key you slip it into the keyhole and with a large amount of courage not to think of what might be behind that door, you twist it firmly, feeling the stiffness as a result of age. Your ears hear a soft click and a loud hollow sound throughout the building as you successfully unlock the door.

The air your body was demanding began to increase as you felt your throat dry up and a shiver of fear slip down your back. You shook your head, telling yourself this was nonsense to feel so afraid when this had only just begun. Closing your eyes tightly, you fumble around to find the handle of the door, clasping around it firmly once it had reached your grip. With one last breath you push down hard on the handle and creak the door open...

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