A Cautionary Tale

"There was only one rule: don’t open the door.”

Those words still dripped deep crimson down the wall above a pool of congealing blood when I walked into the darkened bunker. To my left, a black door stood ajar, a useless padlock hanging from even more useless metal chains, crushed into a jumble of what was once a metal handle. A drop of unknown liquid dripped into some nameless pool, breaking the silence as I stepped toward that gaping maw of shadow.

I reached out and grabbed the door, swinging it open as I prepared to leap away, to dodge and weave and twist and turn my way to freedom at the first sign of danger. Instead, the silence greeted me as I stared into what appeared to be an empty closet. No monster lived in there. How could it ever have? The room was hardly larger than a man. How could something so small have caused such carnage? I stood defenseless in my shock.

And then, too late, it hit me. It was a trap! I realized it even as I felt something crash against my back, knocking me forward in midturn. The monster had never been inside! I reached out and grabbed something, my fingers gripping hard, tearing a piece of fabric as I fell, twisting my body in response to the shove. I hit the ground and rolled back to my feet in one fluid motion, but too late! The door slammed shut before me, and my hands found no purchase. I threw my body into the door and heard the high-pitched laughter of something that had surely once been human on the other side. In desperation, I began to plead until I heard a hoarse, misshapen whisper:

“Don’t open the door.”

Author's Note: I originally wrote this story as a microfiction contest entry, in which the opening line had to be, "There was only one rule: don’t open the door.” I hope you enjoyed the read. I'd love to hear what you think, so please feel free to leave a comment, click the heart, and subscribe!