A mysterious door appearing in random places.

No one knew where it came from. One moment, the alleyway was empty, the cracked brick walls leading to nothing but a dead end. The next moment, it stood there—an old, wooden door, weathered by time, with intricate carvings that seemed to shift when no one was looking.

Daniel first saw it on his way home from work. At first, he thought his tired eyes were playing tricks on him. The door didn’t belong there; he had passed this way a hundred times before, and there had never been a door. It had no frame, no building it was attached to—just a door standing alone, defying logic.

Curiosity gnawed at him. He glanced around. The street was empty. The air was thick with the scent of rain and something else—something old, like forgotten pages in a long-lost book. With a deep breath, he stepped forward and placed his hand on the doorknob. It was cold, too cold for a mild evening.

A moment of hesitation. Then, he turned the handle.

The door swung open to a landscape that should not exist. Instead of the familiar alley, there was a vast, moonlit field stretching endlessly under a star-studded sky. The air smelled different—crisp, unpolluted. The hum of the city had vanished, replaced by an eerie silence, punctuated only by the distant sound of waves crashing against an unseen shore.

Daniel stepped through.

The ground beneath him felt soft, almost unreal. The grass glowed faintly, pulsing in rhythm with his heartbeat. He turned back—the door still stood, hovering without support, a gateway between worlds. But now, on this side, it looked older, more decayed. Would it disappear if he turned away? Would it leave him stranded in this strange place?

He took a cautious step forward. In the distance, something moved. A figure, shadowed, waiting. Daniel’s pulse quickened. He wasn’t alone.

The figure raised an arm and gestured for him to come closer.

Everything in him screamed to turn back, to flee through the door before it was too late. But something deeper, something unexplainable, urged him forward. The figure stepped into the light.

It was him.

Daniel stared into his own face—older, weathered, eyes filled with knowledge and sorrow. The other him smiled faintly, as if expecting him.

“You shouldn’t have come yet,” the older Daniel said.

“What is this place?” Daniel whispered.

“A future,” his older self replied. “Not yours yet, but a path you might take.”

Daniel turned, suddenly desperate to go back. The door was still there, but even as he looked, it flickered, its edges growing hazy. He lunged for it.

His fingers grasped the handle just as the door began to vanish. He pulled, heart pounding, and stepped through.

The familiar scent of rain filled his lungs. The city noises rushed back in. He turned. The door was gone.

Daniel stood in the empty alley, his breath ragged, his hands trembling. He looked at his reflection in a puddle at his feet. For a second—just a second—he swore he saw his older self staring back.

And then, it was just his own reflection.

The door might be gone, but Daniel knew it wasn’t forever. It would return, somewhere else, waiting for another moment when he least expected it. Waiting for the choice to be made once again.

And next time, he might not turn back.