Beyond the Illusory Door

Sarah had always found ancient, deserted houses to be fascinating. Like a moth to a flame, she was drawn in by something about their crumbling walls and lost tales.

She therefore couldn't help but be drawn inside the enigmatic, ivy-covered mansion on the outskirts of town.

The mansion has been abandoned for many years. Although Sarah didn't believe in ghosts, the locals avoided it because they said it was haunted. She had faith in history and the lost times that persisted in the atmosphere of bygone eras.

But something felt different here. She felt a chill go down her spine as soon as she walked inside.

The interior was dirty and dark, and there was a strong stench of rot and wet wood. The mansion appeared to have been abandoned, as the furnishings remained untouched and were draped in white sheets.

Sarah noticed something odd as she made her way through the rooms, her flashlight beam bouncing over broken windows and peeling wallpaper.

There was a door at the end of a lengthy hallway, which she had missed when she had first entered. It was open a little, like it was waiting for her.

Unlike the others, this door was immaculate and appeared as though it had been placed yesterday rather than being ancient and worn out.

Her curiosity piqued, Sarah approached the door cautiously. The closer she got, the more she felt an inexplicable sense of dread. Something about it was... wrong. Her hand hovered over the doorknob. Should she open it?

Don’t be ridiculous, she muttered to herself, gripping the cold metal and pulling the door open.

The room beyond was unlike anything she’d seen in the mansion. It was bathed in a soft, warm light, with walls lined with shelves of books, and a fireplace that crackled with life. A single armchair sat in the center, facing away from her.

But there was something else—something that made her heart race. A figure was sitting in the armchair. She could see the back of their head, just peeking over the top of the chair.

Hello?

Sarah called out, her voice trembling despite her attempt to stay calm.

No answer.

She took a step closer.

Hello?

Who are you?

Still, no response. The figure didn’t move, didn’t even seem to breathe. The room was warm, inviting, but Sarah could feel the hairs on the back of her neck standing up. Something was very, very wrong.

Her mind screamed at her to turn back, to leave the mansion and never return. But her feet wouldn’t listen. She found herself moving forward, closer and closer to the armchair, her heart pounding in her chest. When she finally reached it, she hesitated.

What if this wasn’t real?

What if she was imagining it all?

Taking a deep breath, she walked around to face the figure.

The chair was empty.

Sarah’s blood turned to ice. She had seen someone, hadn’t she?

She couldn’t have imagined it. The feeling of being watched had been so real, so tangible. But there was no one—only the crackling fire and the soft, eerie light.

Suddenly, the door behind her slammed shut. She spun around, her pulse racing, but the hallway was gone. In its place stood a solid brick wall, trapping her inside the strange room. Panic set in as she ran to the wall, pounding her fists against it, but it didn’t budge.

What is this?

She whispered, her breath coming in shallow gasps.

Her flashlight flickered and went out, plunging the room into darkness. The only light came from the fire, casting long, distorted shadows on the walls. As she stood frozen, the soft sound of footsteps echoed through the room—coming from behind her.

Sarah’s heart stopped. She turned slowly, her eyes wide with terror.

There, in the dim light of the fire, stood a figure—a tall, shadowy figure that seemed to shimmer in and out of focus, like it didn’t belong to this world.

It raised a hand and pointed to the door. The door that wasn’t there anymore.

No...

Sarah whispered, backing away. But there was nowhere to go. The room was shrinking, the walls closing in on her, and the figure... it was coming closer.

The door behind the figure appeared again, glowing faintly, like an invitation—or a trap. The figure stepped aside, gesturing for her to go through.

Trembling, Sarah took a step forward. The figure watched her, its dark eyes gleaming in the firelight. She didn’t want to go through the door, but she had no choice. There was nowhere else to run.

With a deep breath, she stepped through the door—and found herself back in the hallway of the mansion.

Except... it wasn’t the same. The hallway was twisted, distorted, like a reflection in a funhouse mirror. The mansion wasn’t the same. Nothing was the same.

She had crossed over—into a place beyond reality, beyond reason. The door she had opened... it wasn’t just a door. It was a gateway.

And now, there was no way back.

The figure’s laughter echoed through the twisted halls as Sarah realized, too late, that she had stepped into a world where she didn’t belong.

(The story is completely unreal and fictional)