Beyond the black door

It was 12:30 at night. Silence blanketed everything. A cold winter night, shrouded in thick fog. Through the dense mist, Rimi and her friend Shaon were walking along a forest path. Both were university students who had come far from the city to visit an old ancestral mansion. This mansion had been built by Rimi’s great-grandfather. According to local lore, there was a "black door" in the house—one that no one ever opened. Why not? No one really knew. They only said that death itself lurked behind it.

Among them, Shaon was the thrill-seeker. He had already decided that he must uncover the mystery of the black door.

The house was old, with moss covering the walls and rotting wooden windows. The place looked even more eerie because of the shadows and the dim lighting.

Rimi kept saying, “Let’s go back. We’ll check the door tomorrow morning.”

But Shaon laughed, “Scared? It’s just a door!”

They made their way slowly to the veranda's other end. There it stood—that infamous black door. The color was charred and not just black. Burnt. The surface was covered in scratches, as if something or someone had tried desperately to escape.

Shaon turned on a flashlight and placed his hand on the doorknob. It was ice cold—like touching death itself. In the flashlight’s beam, they saw black mist creeping out from underneath the door.

“Rimi, look! The door… it’s breathing,” Shaon whispered, voice thick with excitement.

Rimi made an effort to back away, but her feet would not move. Her entire body appeared paralyzed. And then, without hesitation, Shaon pushed the door open.

Creeeaaak…

As the door opened, a chilling sound echoed through the hallway. On the other side—nothing could be seen. Only thick, suffocating darkness.

Suddenly, a gust of cold air rushed out from within. It smelled of rotting flesh, forcing Rimi to choke. Her vision blurred. But Shaon stepped inside.

Before she could react, the door slammed shut behind him.

Thud!

Silence.

A minute passed. Then another. Then ten. Shaon didn’t return.

Rimi stood frozen before the door, heart pounding like a drum. Then a voice echoed from behind it—distorted, gasping, broken.

“Rimi… Rimi… help… they’re taking my eyes…”

Rimi screamed, “Shaon! I’m coming!”

She rushed to push the door, but it wouldn’t budge. As if someone—or something—was holding it shut from inside.

And then, thick blood started to seep out from beneath the door. Floating in the blood were… eyes. One, two… five eyes.

Rimi fainted on the spot.

The next morning, the villagers found Rimi unconscious by the door. She was taken to the hospital. When she woke, she could say only one thing, over and over—

“Close the door… they’ll come out…”

Shaon was never found again. The police investigated. They tried breaking down the wall to see what was behind the door. What they found changed them forever.

Behind the door was a room. The walls were soaked in blood, bones scattered everywhere—eyes, limbs, skull fragments. And in the center of it all stood a mirror.

In that mirror, they could see only Shaon’s reflection. He kept whispering the same thing:

“Give me back my eyes… I want to see…”