The Door That Wasn't There Yesterday

As they knew the building had never been inhabited in over 40 years. Not abandoned just empty. The lights still worked. The elevator still rang when called for. But nobody ever went in, and nobody ever came out.

So when Eliza saw a blue lit door in the hallway of her new 12th floor apartment building, she thought that it was some kind of late-night fantasy. Or a joke.

The problem was that she had been there for five years. Also, the hallway never curved like it does now. The door was wood and carved in the shape of a cathedral door arched and having odd, foreign writing carved on the frame. The handle looked like tarnished brass, cold and too heavy for such a thin door.

It boomed. Underneath it, a dim light fluttering like candles escaped. She could sense warmth on her skin when she kept her hand close to it. And then, for a moment, she would have sworn she heard whispers behind it. Not in any language she knew more like thoughts spoken out loud. Some of them familiar. Some not at all.

She quickly turned the knob. The door opened quietly creak. There was a forest and no room within. The sky above was darkened by low fog and starless. Something distant, something slow and wide, moved among the trees along a white stone path. She stepped one step inside.

She spun around to witness the door shut behind her and vanish. No wall, no hallway, no building only the stillness of the forest and the whispers that consumed all her breaths.