The Invisible Door

Aarav had lived in the same house for sixteen years. It was an old, quiet home with creaky wooden floors and peeling wallpaper—nothing out of the ordinary. At least, that’s what he thought.

The night he saw the door, everything changed.

It was in the hallway, near his bedroom—a tall, wooden door with an iron handle, slightly cracked as if inviting him in. The strange part? No one else could see it. Not his parents, not his younger sister. When he pointed at it, they only saw a blank wall.

That night, curiosity won over fear. Aarav twisted the handle, and the door creaked open into complete darkness. A chill ran down his spine as he stepped inside.

A Room That Shouldn’t Exist:

The space beyond was impossibly vast—far bigger than their small house could ever contain. Towering bookshelves lined the circular walls, reaching higher than any library he had ever seen. Flickering lanterns floated in the air, casting an eerie golden glow. The room smelled of old paper, ink, and something else—a metallic tang in the air, like the scent of a coming storm.

At the center stood a massive wooden desk covered in parchment, quills, and a single yellowed page. The words appeared the moment he touched it:

"You are the first to find this door in 100 years. Leave now, or take the key and stay forever."

A rusty key lay beside the note. His heartbeat thundered.

He turned to leave—but the door had vanished. The wall behind him was now another bookshelf, filled with books that bore no titles, only symbols etched in a language he didn’t recognize.

The Names of the Forgotten:

He ran his fingers over the book spines, feeling their strange warmth. One book trembled beneath his touch. He pulled it out and opened it.

The pages weren’t filled with words. They were filled with names. Hundreds of names. The last one at the bottom:

Aarav Mehta.

His breath caught in his throat. His name had appeared before he even made a choice.

He flipped through the pages, and his blood ran cold. Some names had been crossed out. Others glowed faintly, pulsing like they were alive. A few pages were missing entirely, torn out violently.

Had those people escaped? Or had they been erased?

Then he heard it.

A whisper.

Not from behind him, not from the shadows, but from the very pages of the book.

"He’s here."

Aarav dropped the book. The lanterns flickered, and the air in the room thickened, pressing in on him. The shadows between the shelves deepened, shifting. Something—someone—was watching him.

The Choice:

His eyes darted to the key. A heavy feeling settled in his chest.

If he took the key, he knew he would learn the truth of this place. The names, the missing pages, the whispers. But could he ever return home?

If he refused… would he become one of the forgotten names in the book?

The whispering grew louder, more urgent. The bookshelves trembled. Aarav could feel time slipping, stretching, as if he had already been in this room far longer than he realized.

His fingers hovered over the key.

A breath.

A decision.

The room blinked.

And Aarav was—

The Door Remains

Days later, his family packed his belongings. His room was untouched, exactly as he had left it. Except for one thing.

The space in the hallway where he had first seen the invisible door?

Now, there was a door.

A real one.

But no one in the house dared to open it.

And in the library that should not exist, a book lay open on a desk, glowing

faintly with a new name.

A name that had not yet been crossed out.

—The End?