The Broken Promise

There was only one rule: don't open the door.

Nelson must have told his son that one rule ten-thousand times. But the more he would tell him, the more intriguing the door became. When he was 5, Nelson caught him approaching the door. He swore that it started to glow and hum. “What’s back there,” he asked?

“Don’t worry about it.,” he said. “Just promise me you will never open it.”

“OK. I promise. I won’t open it.”

Nelson Sr. died a few years ago. Nelson Jr. is now thirty. He was cleaning some old junk out the attic of his old family home the other day, reminiscing the days of his youth. He had special fondness for the memories of his father. Now, he was preparing to sell his home when he noticed that the far-left wall was boarded up.

He slowly walked toward this wall when he heard a familiar hum. He saw light coming from the cracks in the boards. He pulled each board down one by one and saw the door.

“OK. I promise.”

The words echoed in his head. It was his own words that he said to his father. But his father was gone. He would never know. He'll just have a peak inside. He jiggled the doorknob, but it was locked. A beam of light came out of the keyhole and shined on a box that he was about to throw away. Inside was the key. Unlocking the door, he turned the handle and swung the door open. Nothing. He stepped inside to find a table with a photo of himself opening the door and a letter from his father.

“I told you not to open the door.”

He looked up to see the door close and lock behind him.