Do not open. Not if you wish to live.

"If you’re reading this alone at night, I suggest you look behind you—just once. Because what happened to me… could happen to anyone. And it all started with that 'third door'."

I never believed in haunted houses. I always thought such things were figments of overactive imaginations until I stepped inside one. They say curiosity kills the cat, but sometimes, it takes much more than that.

It was a cold winter evening when I visited an abandoned village with my friend Haroon. We were there to film a decaying old mansion that no one had lived in for decades. The property was silent, forgotten by time, its wooden walls creaking under the weight of history.

The mansion was enormous three stories high, with cracked windows, cobwebbed chandeliers, and faded portraits hanging on peeling walls. We entered through the front door, the floorboards groaning under our feet. The moment we stepped in, an unnatural chill ran down my spine.

Inside, there were three main doors in the hallway. The left and right doors were wide open, revealing empty rooms filled with dust and decay. But the middle door that was different. It was chained shut, sealed with a heavy rusted padlock. And on the door, written in what looked disturbingly like blood, was a message:

"Do not open. Not if you wish to live."

Haroon laughed it off.
"Looks like someone tried to make this place look more haunted than it actually is."

But I didn’t laugh. My gut told me something was very, very wrong.
“Let’s just skip that one,” I said. “We’ll explore the rest.”

We spent hours filming every corner of the house. Nothing unusual, just eerie silence and shadows. It wasn’t until we returned to our room that night and reviewed the footage that something horrifying caught our eyes.

The middle door the one with the chains
was slowly opening by itself in the video.

We froze. We hadn’t touched it. We had seen it locked. And yet, in the footage, the chains uncoiled themselves, and the door creaked open just a few inches.

Haroon laughed again.
“Probably a camera glitch. I say we check it out tomorrow. Might be treasure inside!”

But the next morning, Haroon was gone.

I searched the entire house, screaming his name, running through every hallway, every floor. Nothing. No sign. And then I stood in front of the middle door wide open now.

My heart pounded as I stepped inside.

It was like no other room in the house. Heavy black curtains, candles burning though no one had lit them, and in the center a mirror. But the mirror didn’t show my reflection. It showed Haroon standing still, staring directly at me.

I stumbled back, but a voice echoed in the room:

"One came in. One disappeared. Who will be the third?"

The door slammed shut behind me. I ran to it, banged on it, screamed but it wouldn’t open. I turned to the mirror again, and now it showed me, standing at the door, blood dripping from my eyes.

I swear, I saw myself being pulled into that mirror—sucked into the darkness—and then… nothing.

That was the last moment I remember.

If this message has reached you, know this: it's not just a story. The third door exists. Somewhere, maybe near you. Maybe waiting.

But be warned…
The third door opens only once.
And once it shuts…
You don’t come back.

How do you feel now? Was the story very interesting?

I'm interested in stories like this. Do you have any?

If you want to read it to me, I am at your service. When a person is alone and reads such stories, he feels as if he is walking on a different earth and living with new creatures.

Thank you