1 August 2012
The door was grand; there was no doubt about that. It was made of polished oak, with intricate patterns carved into it's smooth surface. It arched high above my head, towering over me like a skyscraper. I took a deep breath, my heart pounding. I nervously stepped forward, reaching for the doorknob. I froze halfway, and quickly retracted my hand again.
I shouldn't have been snooping around the the thrift shop so late at night. I guess I was just curious.
My Uncle Jenkins owned the shop. He was what my mum would call 'a shady character'. He hardly ever talked to anyone, and had a crooked, stooped posture. He had thick stubble covering the lower half of his face, and his dark eyes were full of danger and mystery. I'd usually come to help him here, seeing to customers, counting out change. Often I'd catch him sneaking off to the back of the shop, while he thought no one was looking. At first, I didn't think much of it, but as this happened more and more frequently, I began to wonder what he actually did there. One day, I followed him there. I hid behind one of the many bottles of whiskey he had stored there and watched as he looked around nervously before producing a key from his pocket and unlocking the door. With one last scan of the room he opened the door and went in, slamming the door behind him.
I had to know what was in there.
I just had to.
I'd stolen the key from it's home, hanging on a nail in his office. I'd unlocked the door, just the way I had seen him do that day, and timidly reached for the door knob once more. This time, I grabbed hold of it before I could change my mind. The wood felt smooth and cool against my palm. I gripped it tightly, beads of sweat forming on my brow.
I'd gone this far.
I had to do it now.
I turned the doorknob and swiftly flung open the door. The hinges screeched in protest as it swung open. I tiptoed inside, my breathing uneven. The door slammed shut behind me with a loud bang. I was in complete and utter blackness. A chill ran down my spine and I shivered, though it wasn't cold. I was getting scared now. Well and truly scared. I ran over in the direction of the door, managing to find it in the dark. I tried to open it: it wouldn't budge. The doorknob rattled as I started to shake it, praying for it to open. Pure terror surged through me as I realised: I was trapped. I slumped down against the door, hugging my knees to my chest.
This couldn't be happening.
That's when I heard the whisper.
'You shouldn't have come...'
I jumped. I must have imagined it.
'The door has lured you in...'
It was no figment of my imagination. This was very, very real.
'Now, it will never let you go...'
I couldn't take it anymore.
I opened my mouth, tilted my head skywards, and screamed.
The Door • Opuss № I