Don’t Open the Door

Amelia had never forgotten the dream.

Every night, from the time she was seven, the nightmare played out the same way: the red door at the end of a long, dark hallway. No matter how hard she tried, she never reached it. Something behind it, something wrong, always kept her from getting closer. And always, without fail, the moment she touched the doorknob, she would wake up with a jolt, heart racing, her mind scrambled with panic.

Even as an adult, the image of that door haunted her.

Now, standing in the middle of her new living room, she couldn’t help but feel that same sense of unease wash over her. It had been two months since she'd moved into the old house on the edge of town, and it still didn’t feel like home. The house was large, older than she liked, with creaky floors and wallpaper that peeled in the corners like it was hiding something. But what unsettled her most was the basement. It had been locked when she’d arrived, the door old and weathered, with a rusty brass knob that looked as though it hadn’t been touched in years.

Amelia had been hesitant at first. But after unpacking her boxes and settling in, curiosity began to nibble at the back of her mind. Why was the basement locked?

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the house, Amelia stood in front of the basement door, her breath shallow. The door was exactly as she remembered it from her dream. Red. Just as vivid as the one in her nightmares.

Her heart pounded as she stared at the door. She didn’t know why it felt so familiar, why she couldn’t bring herself to leave it alone. She’d never seen a red door like this before, so why did it seem like she had?

The sound of the old house creaking around her felt louder in the silence. She reached out, fingers trembling, and touched the knob.

Cold. Like it had been frozen in time.

She jerked her hand back, startled by the chill that ran up her spine. For a moment, she stood frozen, staring at the door, her mind racing. Should I?

Her nightmare flashed through her thoughts again, the shadowy figure behind the door, the overwhelming dread that came with it. She had been so young when the dreams started, so terrified of the shadow that waited on the other side. But now, as an adult, she thought she should be brave enough to face it.

Amelia exhaled sharply, trying to shake off the fear. She had to know. She couldn’t keep living in a house with a locked door, a constant reminder of something she couldn’t understand.

With one swift motion, she turned the knob.

The door creaked open, sending a jolt of electricity through her veins.

Darkness. The basement was pitch black, a thick, inescapable void that seemed to swallow all light. Amelia squinted, trying to make sense of what was beyond the threshold. She couldn’t see anything, but she felt something, as if eyes were watching her, waiting.

A faint, almost imperceptible sound reached her ears, a low, raspy whisper.

“Come closer.”

Her breath caught in her throat. The voice wasn’t familiar, but it felt wrong, like it was calling from somewhere deep within her mind. She stepped back, heart racing, and closed the door with a soft click.

But it didn’t end there.

The next night, Amelia sat on the edge of her bed, the memory of the door haunting her. She had thought opening it would give her answers, but now, the only thing she had was an unsettling feeling that something had changed. The walls of her house felt tighter, as if the very air had thickened since she’d opened that door. The shadows in the corners of her room seemed darker, stretching longer, like they were waiting.

Her fingers itched to touch the door again. To open it fully and see what lay behind it.

With every passing day, the compulsion grew stronger.

She tried to ignore it. But every night, as the darkness closed in, her thoughts drifted back to the basement. The shadowy figure. The voice. Something was down there, something that had been waiting for her all this time.

Then, one night, she couldn’t take it anymore. The house was silent, the kind of silence that seemed unnatural. The wind had picked up outside, rattling the windows, and her own breath sounded louder in her ears.

She stood at the basement door again, her pulse quickening. This is the last time, she told herself. But deep down, she knew it wasn’t. It never would be.

With trembling hands, she opened the door again. This time, she wasn’t afraid. Not of the dark, not of what she might find.

The same oppressive darkness filled the basement, but this time, something shifted. The air felt heavier, thick with a presence that made her skin prickle. The low whisper echoed again, louder, clearer, “Come closer.”

She stepped forward, crossing the threshold. The floor beneath her feet creaked with every step, the sound too loud, too sharp in the silence. Her heartbeat thrummed in her ears, each pulse a reminder of how much she wanted to turn back.

But the pull was undeniable. She couldn’t stop. It was like the house itself was drawing her in.

Amelia stumbled into the darkness. Her hands reached out, but there was nothing to hold onto, nothing to guide her. Her breath hitched, and she had to fight the urge to scream. She needed to get out of the basement, needed to escape the suffocating grip that seemed to have wrapped itself around her chest.

Then she heard it. The sound of footsteps. Slow, deliberate, like someone, something, was walking toward her.

A figure appeared in the darkness, its shape indistinct, but its presence all-consuming. Amelia’s breath caught in her throat.

The shadow. The one from her dreams. The one she had never forgotten.

It stepped closer, its form becoming clearer with every passing second. Its eyes, if they could even be called eyes, glowed with an eerie light, and its lips twisted into a grin that made her blood run cold.

“Welcome,” it said, its voice a low rasp that echoed through her mind.

Amelia froze, unable to move, unable to breathe. This was it. The thing she had feared all her life. The thing that had been waiting behind the door.

The thing that had been waiting for her to open it.

The figure raised its hand, and the world around her began to shift. The room around her distorted, stretching and warping like it was being pulled from the seams.

Suddenly, she wasn’t alone in the basement. Figures emerged from the shadows, some indistinguishable and others grotesque, their faces twisted in grotesque smiles. Each one stepped closer, surrounding her, their laughter echoing through her skull, their bodies growing more distorted by the second.

“You were always meant to open the door,” the shadow said again. It stepped forward, its hand reaching for her. “Now, you’re part of the collection.”

Amelia screamed, just as she had in her nightmares, but this time, there was no escape. The shadows closed in on her, pressing in until she couldn’t breathe. The last thing she saw was the red door, still open behind her, the whispering voices from her dreams now a cacophony of madness, pulling her deeper.

The door slammed shut.

And Amelia was never seen again.