Winner

First of all, congratulations to all who entered the Flash Fiction contest. Every one of you did an excellent job. There were entries that made me think, entries that tugged at my heart, and entries that were truly unique and inspiring. Every single one had a different take on what their "door" was. Sometimes it was metaphorical (with some breathtaking metaphors, let me tell you), sometimes it brought on memories. Sometimes it was a setting or even a portal.

Fantastic. Truly. It's killing me because I wish I could pick more than one. (There might just be more than one winner too. Some of the other Typelings have asked to read through the entries.) So if you didn't win this one, don't count yourself out yet.

In fact, don't count yourself out at all. Because you're fabulous!

Without further ado, the winner:

P.M. Kester!

"Burning Blue"

 She stood outside of the blue door contemplating her next move.

 Answers were on the other side of the door.  She would finally know who she was and where she had come from.  On the other hand, it could result in her death.  She was raised not to ask questions and to keep her expectations low.  But she kept hearing that voice.  The voice kept nagging her and making her recall things she probably shouldn’t.

 She placed her hand on the handle of the blue door and then immediately snatched it back. It felt hot! Why was the handle hot!

Dressed in a black zip front hoodie and matching all black attire, she took her jacket off and used it to slowly turn the knob.  Upon pushing the door open, there was an explosion.  Dazed and on her butt in the middle of the street, she made of the sound of footsteps coming from several directions.

“The clinic is on fire, get help!” someone shouted.

“Someone has been hurt,” another voice said.  Laying flat on her back, she could hear footsteps moving toward her as she struggled to open her eyes.

"Are you okay," she felt someone whisper near her ear.  She took a deep breath and opened her eyes slowly recognizing the voice.

"What happened to the building," she whispered.

"The building is on fire," the strong male voice whispered.  "The volunteers are putting it out now.  Were you able to get in and pull your file?"

"No, the building exploded right as I opened the door," she said as tears began to stream down her face.  "Now I will never know who I am or why I have this face."

He kissed her forehead and gingerly lifted her into a sitting position.  They sat in the middle of the street watching the volunteers put out the fire and listening to snatches of conversation.

"Who would want to hurt Dr. Eagle," one lady said.

"Maybe he wasn't in the building" a man replied.

"He was always in the building" an older woman replied.  "I guarantee he will be among the things recovered when we're done."

They got to their feet and wandered over to the smoldering ruins of the building.  She helped the ladies fill buckets of water and he helped the men extinguish the flames. Keeping busy helped her not concentrate on her failure.  Every 28 days she woke up with a new face but unbeknownst to the world she still maintained her old memories.  She wanted to know why but the answers were now in the ashes.

As she hugged some of the volunteers and prepared to go home, she saw something gleaming in the moonlight.  Gingerly, she made her way to the spot trying to ensure she was not seen. Using her jacket, she hastily picked up the object and wrapped it in the black fabric.

Maybe she would find answers after all.

Well done, Phalia!

The reason I chose this one was because I wanted to know why. Why did she have a different face? What was her history? What was her future? 

Wait for my email and send me a first chapter for your critique. You've earned it!

Cheers,

Hero

P.S. I'm sure you're all wondering...
The photo of the blue door was taken at Gloucester, Gloucestershire, England. Near the Gloucester Cathedral where several scenes from the Harry Potter movies were filmed. 
Ah, England.