The Locked Door

Apostmarked three days after Aunt Clara’s funeral the key reached me inside a wax-sealed envelope. Her lawyer wrote in handwriting that the key was for the east wing section of Blackthorn Manor. The eastern end of Blackthorn Manor stayed locked since the 1920s because a fire that took seven lives prevented anyone from accessing that area. The words of Clara played in my thoughts as she had warned "Many doors exist because of their purposeful nature."

Curiosity ate away at me more than my sense of fear did.

A jagged manor building with unkempt corners rose near the boundary of the moor while above it hung a night without moonlight. Upon entering I was hit by heavy odors from decay combined with burned wreckage. The shine from my flashlight wavered during my search of the dilapidated halls until I discovered the east wing door. A blackened iron-banded oak door blocked the entrance which padlocked with rusty metal. The key fit perfectly.

A draft of windy cold swept through the threshold as the door slowly swung its way open.

No mutation had occurred in the space of centuries. The space contained a piano with crystalline ash deposition alongside velvet drapes and an entire mirrored wall concealed by black fabric. The cloudy glass reflected my face yet something in my view felt wrong to me. Ghostlike fingers gently pressed the piano keys while I stood facing the instrument at that moment.

Then I saw the doll.

The doll positioned itself neatly on the piano bench where its porcelain face displayed a crack along with one missing glass eye. Its lace dress was singed. A handwritten letter from the doll’s hand said “Don’t turn around.”

The temperature plummeted. My breath fogged the air.

A secret whisper escaped from the mirror as it spoke "You should not be in this place."

I turned my body while my flashlight cut through the darkened environment. Nothing. The reflective veil covering the mirror moved away from the glass when I faced it once more. Back at me in the mirror were wide eyes yet hers were not visible. A dark grin that extended beyond human dimensions spanned across her ghastly mouth but her pupils had vanished into empty mirrors.

The reflection spoke although I remained silent before saying "You're late".

An off-key dissonance hit the piano. The doll turned its head toward me as its single surviving eye stayed glued on my face.

The wall consumed me when I tried to escape but the door had vanished. The walls vibrated while black veins from beneath spread throughout the room in aungal pattern. The reflection approached with bony hands extended toward the window glass. The voice sang seven souls sustained the burning ashes. “We need an eighth.”

The doll launched black smoke from its opening mouth which twisted into repulsive forms of twisted hands and screaming faces. The burned-smelling air filled the room.

I threw the doll forcefully towards the mirror. The sudden escape of glass hit within the same moment as the screaming pandemonium broke loose.

I remained in the hallway after the smoke dissipated while the east wing door rested closed before me. The blistered condition of my hands stood out while I looked for the disappeared doll. For a brief moment relief took over me before I became aware of the strange odor.

Smoke.

The hallway mirror captured my attention when I tried to leave and immobilized me. Standing there I held the doll on my shoulder while its blackened hand remained locked to my collarbone. The wickedness in its one last eye revealed itself.

The whispered words spoke to me with the same tone of voice I used.

Firewaves consumed the windows of the manor because flames were consuming its walls. Somewhere, a clock struck midnight.

The researchers discovered that the entire building had become entirely burned down exactly as in the 1923 event. A broken doll emerged from the ruins as the only surviving evidence together with its hand holding blackened metallic keys.

People who spend time on the moor during nighttime hours claim to hear a piano playing behind the east wing door followed by the sighting of eight dancing shadows in the fire.