The Locked Door

The door was always locked. It was not supposed to be open. Rumors say that whoever went in never came back. I stood in the empty hallway, the air heavy with dust and sweat, my heart racing. It's okay; You're going to be okay. I stared up at the cracked, wooden door, its white paint peeling away. The knob was cracked, with a big silver lock attached to it. 

"Excuse me?"

I snapped my head in the direction of the voice. A tall man, I would guess anywhere more than 6 feet tall, stood behind me. His eyes printed the word danger, and he wore a black t-shirt and vest, with security printed at the front and black jeans with brown army boots. His breath was foul and smelled like cigarettes. A deep, red scar ripped through his eyebrow down to the top of his eye. A bush of dark curls was hidden underneath his black baseball cap. We faced each other like soldiers, still and firm. But then I took a step back, fearful. 

"So?"

I turned around and ran, the sound of my footsteps echoing against the plain white walls. My hair flew behind me as I sprinted towards the exit. The guard didn't come after me, and when I looked back, the only sight was the door, surrounded by sad, empty walls.

As soon as I made it outside, I gasped for air. It was dark, and a blanket of stars pelted the night sky. The wind howls loudly, carrying the scent of rain off the trees and sidewalk. I trudged down the street warily. Streetlamps flickered, casting dim lights on the dark road. 

No one knew what had happened to our town. People started disappearing every year. They believed that the door had some way of attracting you towards it, like controlling your mind. Every year one person vanishes at night and is never seen again in the morning. Ever since it started happening, no one went outside much besides those who had jobs and needed to make money.

Curfew was at 11 p.m; for everyone in the town because those who opened the doors ghosts would come and haunt us unless we found shelter in our homes. I carefully walked up the old, broken steps of the wooden porch and opened the door of my tiny home. It creaked loudly, interrupting the silence. 

The lights were already off beside the faint glow of the digital clock, flashing at 10:53, just in time. I crept across the stained carpet, a cloud of dust forming with each step I took. Laying down on my torn couch, the horrible stench of sweat and filth filled my nostrils. The broken windows couldn't keep the cold wind out of my shed, causing me to shiver. Suddenly, I heard a click. I jumped down and pulled out a knife from under the couch. Then, another click. The air became still and silent, and my heart started pounding against my chest.

"Who's there?"

Click.

The wind howled, and the curtains swayed, causing the moonlight to flood into the room. I peered out the window, carefully holding the knife by my side. Something brushed my shoulder. I spun around, startled. The space was empty. I started feeling dizzy, and it was hard to breathe. I gasped for air, grabbing the couch for support. I felt like something was controlling me. Raspy voices screamed at me inside of my head, repeating "The door" again and again. I tried to snap myself awake, but then it was all over. 

There I was, in the middle of my shed, everything the same. The digital clock now flashed 11:01 in bright red digits. The couch still stank, and the carpet was still stained. The kitchen faucet still leaked, causing drops of water to fall against the steel sink every 5 seconds. I walked towards the door of my shack, dragging my fingers against the peeled wall. I pushed the door open, and it let out another screech. I pulled up my hood over my head and ran. As soon as I left, I felt like people were watching me. I ran down the street. When I got to a tall, rectangular building made out of glass, I walked around the perimeter to find a way in. There was no way in, so I picked up a smooth, flat stone and chucked it at a window. The alarm went off as I ran through it. Red sirens flashed in the corridor of the building. I ran to the locked door, unable to hide my desperation to open it. I banged on the door, more and more paint peeling off. I screamed in frustration as I continued kicking the door. It finally opened. I walked in, the darkness swallowing me.

"Hello?" I yelled; the dreadful walls called back with a loud echo causing me to shiver. I cautiously walked step after step into the never-ending blackness. The only sound was the squeak of my shoes against the slimy, wet floor.

I saw the light ahead of me and wandered towards it. There was a tall, gray gate with orange patches of rust on it. It was locked, but across it was the most beautiful sight I had ever seen. There was a continuous field of green grass with a striking blue lake. Tall mountains stood high in the sky, their peaks hidden behind the white fluffy clouds. The bright sun shone down all over the happy people. It looked like what the world used to be, as the perfect slice of pumpkin pie on a fall evening. I wanted to cross the gate badly. I watched miserably, still clinging on to the gate.

"Help!" I yelled, tears in my eyes. I hopelessly stared far away. I shouted, knowing no one was going to help me. I couldn't turn back, though.

"Please!" I cried out as loud as I could. Out of all the people, no one could hear me. I dropped onto my knees, sobbing. It was all useless.

When it's dark, the light helps us. But the light isn't always able to hear us call for help.