The Forbidden Door 2

The House’s Rule

The scratching continued for days, soft at first, then more insistent. Mrs. Cooper, unfazed, went about her daily routine—watering her plants, dusting the old wooden furniture, and listening to the ticking of the grandfather clock that dominated the parlor. The sound had long since become a background hum to her, like the wind whistling through cracks in the walls or the rain tapping at the windows.

She had learned, long ago, that curiosity was dangerous. She had learned to ignore the cries, the knocking, the whispers. The house was ancient, older than anyone in the village cared to remember, and it had its own way of doing things. It made its demands, and if those demands weren’t met, it became angry. So, she listened to the house. She followed its rules. That’s how she had survived this long.

But something was different this time.

As the days went by, Mrs. Cooper noticed that the scratching behind the basement door wasn’t fading like it normally did. Jenna’s presence—or whatever remained of her—should have been absorbed into the house by now, her essence devoured by the darkness. But the sounds persisted, louder and more desperate.

One evening, while sitting in her favorite armchair, Mrs. Cooper heard something else—a faint tapping, not from the basement door but from the walls around her. It started in the parlor, then moved to the hallway, then upstairs. It was as if the house itself was restless.

Mrs. Cooper frowned. This wasn’t normal.

The next morning, the tapping continued, accompanied by something even more unnerving. Jenna’s voice.

It was faint, barely more than a whisper, but unmistakable. It seemed to drift through the house, carried by the cold, stagnant air. “Help me… Mrs. Cooper, please… help…”

The old woman’s hands shook as she placed her teacup on the table. She closed her eyes, breathing deeply, trying to ignore the growing sense of unease creeping up her spine. It had been a long time since something like this had happened. The house usually handled these things, absorbed its sacrifices without any trouble. Why was this one different?

She stood and made her way to the basement door. For a moment, she hesitated. She hadn’t opened the door in decades, not since she’d first learned the house’s rule. But now, something was pulling her there—some strange compulsion, almost like the house itself was urging her on.

The scratching had grown frantic. Clawing. Jenna’s voice was louder now, crying out from behind the door. “Please, I didn’t mean to… I didn’t know… let me out…”

Mrs. Cooper pressed her ear to the wood, listening, her pulse quickening. She hadn’t felt fear in a long time—not since she had learned the truth about the house and its needs. But now, standing there, she felt it again, a deep, gnawing fear she had thought long buried.

“Please… I’m sorry… let me out…”

The voice was so human, so real, that for a brief moment, Mrs. Cooper wondered if Jenna really was trapped down there, if somehow she had escaped whatever fate the house had in store for her. But no, that wasn’t possible. The house always took what it needed.

Didn’t it?

Mrs. Cooper’s hand trembled as she reached for the doorknob. She stopped herself just before touching it, pulling her hand back as though the metal had burned her.

No.

She knew better than this. She couldn’t open the door. Not ever. No matter what she heard, no matter how real it seemed. The house had rules for a reason, and breaking them was unthinkable.

But something had changed.

The knocking, the tapping, Jenna’s voice—none of it was normal. The house had never behaved like this before. It was as though Jenna’s presence was fighting back, resisting whatever fate had been waiting for her in the darkness. And the house… the house was no longer in control.

For the first time in years, Mrs. Cooper felt uncertain.

That night, she couldn’t sleep. The house was alive with noise—scratching, tapping, whispers filling the air. Jenna’s voice echoed through every room, her pleas becoming more frantic, more desperate. “I’m here! Please, someone… let me out! I’m still here!”

Mrs. Cooper lay awake, staring at the ceiling, the covers pulled tight around her thin frame. She knew she couldn’t ignore it anymore. Something was wrong, terribly wrong, and if she didn’t do something soon, the house might take more than it was supposed to.

Finally, unable to stand the noise any longer, she climbed out of bed and made her way back to the basement door. Her heart pounded in her chest, her mouth dry. The house was still and dark, but the air felt heavy, thick with an oppressive weight.

She stopped in front of the door, her hand shaking as it hovered over the knob. The house seemed to hold its breath around her. For a long moment, she stood there, frozen, unsure of what to do.

And then she turned the knob.

The door swung open with a groan, revealing the same pitch-black void beyond. The air was colder down here, thicker with the smell of damp earth and rot. Mrs. Cooper’s eyes strained to adjust to the darkness, but she saw nothing.

Nothing except two pale eyes staring back at her from the void.

“Mrs. Cooper…” Jenna’s voice came from somewhere within the darkness, but it was different now—cold, detached, no longer pleading. “You should have followed the rule…”

Mrs. Cooper’s heart stopped. She staggered back, the door slamming shut with a force that rattled the walls. Her hand flew to her chest, but it was too late. The air around her shifted, the temperature dropping rapidly, and she felt it—the house had turned on her.

From behind the walls, the tapping began again, louder this time, accompanied by faint, hollow whispers. The house was no longer content with just Jenna. It wanted more. It wanted her.

The lights flickered, and the floor beneath Mrs. Cooper’s feet creaked ominously. She backed away from the door, her legs trembling. The walls seemed to close in around her, the very fabric of the house warping and twisting, the shadows growing deeper, more menacing.

She had lived in this house for decades, had served it faithfully, had obeyed its every rule. But now, as the darkness closed in around her, Mrs. Cooper realized the terrible truth.

The house didn’t care about loyalty. It didn’t care about the rules.

It only cared about feeding.

And now, it was hungry again.

If you miss the part 1 - The Forbidden Door