Disappear

There was only one rule: don’t open the door. I didn’t know why, and I didn’t question it. Not at first anyway. There was this tugging feeling that I had every time I looked at the oak slab under the stairs, its polished brass knob tempting me. It was easy enough to ignore, but then came the rattling, as if someone was desperately trying to get out. It was startling every time, but it eventually subsided to a light knocking. Fear turned into curiosity as the craving to know what laid behind it grew and grew.

One early morning, while I was tidying up the kitchen, my ears twitched at the sound of someone calling out from behind the door. Let me out? It’s dark in here. It sounded like a little girl, maybe no older than ten, and she sounded scared, her voice pleading. I remembered a dream I’d had about a little girl, my daughter, calling out from behind the door. It was so vivid, it could have been a memory, and maybe it was. Temptation grew, and I slowly reached for the knob, but pulled back, remembering their one rule. Mommy? Are you gonna let me out? My heart ached at the pleading notes in her tone, and I felt I had to help her. I reached out for the handle once more and turned…

There was only one rule: don’t open the door. I’d had a dream about having a roommate being trapped behind the door. It was so vivid, I thought that it might have been a memory, but I waved it off as my own mind playing tricks on me. Then I heard her calling out from behind the door under the stairs.