Nahno McLein

Another special Sunday post:
This time with one of my short stories in full. Most of the things that happen are based on actual events. At some point my imagination went so far astray that I couldn't distinguish between reality and story anymore. This is a truly fantastical experience as a writer.

Did something similar ever happen to you?

teenagewasteland.de

Prologue:
Laura ran through the foyer, past the empty tables of the bar, past the information desk and jumped towards the button between the lift doors. She stood with her plump arms on her knees, breathing heavily. The doors on the other side glided open. She crossed the wet laminate floor and threw herself into the lift.
The place was empty. She wished her parents would not spend the whole day inside. Others went out onto the piste despite New Years Eve, too. The lift stopped. She crawled out of the cabin onto the blue carpet of the floor foyer and lifted herself up, straightening her skirt. She turned out of the lift niche when she dropped her keys. Immediately she jumped after them.
What was that? Her eyes scanned the floor and rested on a chest in the middle of the foyer. The four plants, two of them as tall as her standing, were moved. They surrounded the chest now. There was also an old desk on one side and a cupboard next to the vending machine.
She crawled to the chest and let one hand slide over the dry and rough surface. The dark wood smelled sweet and sticky, somehow like resin. At the front side she found a black punctured hinge. The cold iron sat firmly on the flat bolt. In the centuries the lid had deformed so much that the pieces barely fit anymore. With a loud rattle, the hinge came loose. Pulling it upwards, together with the heavy lid, she peered into the hollow space. It was empty. Just an empty chest. She dropped it with a loud thud, pushed herself up on one knee and hurried down the corridor.
...