The Door That Wasn’t There Yesterday

It all began on a quiet Sunday morning. The kind of morning where the sun filters gently through the curtains and the world outside seems paused in a peaceful hush. I had just woken up in my small apartment — nothing unusual, just another day. Or so I thought.

As I got up to make my coffee, something caught my eye in the hallway. There, at the end of the corridor where the plain, faded walls met the old wooden floor, stood a door. A door I was absolutely certain had never been there before.

I rubbed my eyes, blinked a few times, and looked again. The door was tall, made of dark, polished wood, with ornate carvings I hadn’t noticed anywhere else in the building. A brass handle glimmered faintly under the morning light, inviting yet strangely out of place.

My apartment building was old — decades old — and while some quirks were normal, this was different. I lived here for two years and never saw this door. I knew every corner, every crack on the walls. How could I have missed a door? Was it some kind of prank? Or worse — was I losing my mind?

Curiosity overcame hesitation. I moved closer, heart pounding. The air around the door felt cooler, heavier. I reached out and touched the handle. It was cold, almost icy to the touch. Taking a deep breath, I turned it and pushed the door open.

What I saw inside was unexpected — and terrifying.

Instead of another room or a hallway, the door opened to a dense forest. Tall trees stretched far and wide, their leaves whispering in a gentle breeze I could feel even from my apartment hallway. Birds chirped softly, and the scent of pine filled the air. It was like stepping into another world — a living, breathing forest trapped behind this mysterious door.

I blinked, disbelieving. Was it a painting? No, I could hear the rustling leaves, smell the earth. I glanced back — the hallway was gone, replaced by trees.

For a moment, I felt pure wonder. But then fear crept in. What if I stepped inside and couldn’t come back? What if this was some kind of trap?

Against my better judgment, I stepped through the door.

The forest was breathtaking but eerily silent, except for the occasional bird call. I walked cautiously along a narrow path, noticing how everything seemed untouched by time. The sunlight danced through the leaves, casting shifting shadows on the ground.

After a few minutes, I saw a small cottage in a clearing. Smoke rose lazily from its chimney. I approached, hoping for help or at least an explanation.

An old woman greeted me at the door. Her eyes sparkled with wisdom and sadness.

“You’ve found the door,” she said softly. “Few do.”

“Where am I?” I asked.

“This is the place between worlds — a threshold for those who seek answers or escape.”

“Why is there a door in my apartment?” I pressed.

“Because your heart was ready to find it. You carry questions, fears, and a yearning for something more.”

I wanted to leave, but the old woman gestured for me to sit.

She told me stories — of lost souls, forgotten memories, and the power of choice. Of how the door appears only to those who need to face themselves. Each visitor must decide what to do next: to stay and heal or return changed to their world.

Hours passed, though it felt like minutes.

Suddenly, the woman smiled gently and said, “It’s time.”

I stood up, heart pounding, feeling the weight of what I had learned.

I walked back to the door — now visible at the edge of the clearing — and stepped through.

Back in my hallway, the door was gone.

Was it all a dream? The forest, the woman, the door? But on my hand, I felt a small leaf pressed like a keepsake.

From that day on, I looked at the world differently. The door had shown me that sometimes, the answers we seek aren’t outside but within ourselves. That courage to face the unknown is the first step to true change.

And if you ever see a door where there wasn’t one yesterday… maybe it’s waiting for you too.