Fiction: At Death’s Door

Conor had seen this in a comedy program once, and it had been amusing. Now, it was puzzling.

He had discovered the little lane – a seldom-used back route to town – almost ten years before. It was a pretty and pleasant walk between green fields, and it provided just enough exercise to keep his old body limber and the blood flowing. He took it daily, had a cup or two of tea in town with friends, and then walked the lane back home.

Today, the path had a new feature: a doorway.

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