Don’t open the door

The residents of Elderwood House repeated it like a mantra, their eyes wide with fear whenever the creaking wood called to them in the dead of night. The door, an ancient slab of dark oak, loomed at the end of a dim hallway, its surface marred by strange symbols that seemed to shift when viewed from the corner of one’s eye.

Years ago, a child had vanished from the house, her laughter echoing down the halls until it abruptly ceased. Since then, the door had been a source of whispered tales and trembling warnings. They said that beyond it lay a world twisted by sorrow and despair, a place where lost souls wandered, forever seeking release.

On a night thick with fog, curiosity gnawed at Clara, a newcomer to Elderwood. The others had long since gone to bed, their fears stifling any talk of the door. Alone in the silence, she felt drawn to it, the air charged with an electric tension. “Just a peek,” she thought, her heart pounding with both dread and excitement.

As her fingers brushed the cool metal of the knob, a cold wind howled through the hall, urging her to retreat. But a voice, soft and melodic, drifted from behind the door. “Help me…. ” it pleaded, pulling at her sanity. In that moment, the rule faded, replaced by a desperate need to uncover the truth.

With a deep breath, she turned the knob. The door swung open, revealing a swirling darkness that swallowed the light, and with it, Clara’s scream was lost to the void. The house fell silent again, the door creaking softly as it closed, sealing the secrets within. The others would still whisper, but now, they felt the weight of one more absence, one more soul claimed by the darkness beyond.