The Locked Door

Every day I walked through the living room and into the kitchen. Like many things in everyday life, it was a task that became monotonous.

There was also a door between the living room and the kitchen I always passed. It was an ordinary door that was once painted a deep red, now the paint faded and chipped. There was nothing unusual about that door. Or so it seemed.

No one opened that door. Ever.

As a kid, I was told never to open that door. And I never did. Not even the rebellious nature of childhood curiosity could entice me to peek inside. Years went by and I never once opened that door. Nobody did. Just the mere mention of the mysterious locked door was a bad omen in itself.

The moment anyone stepped just a few feet away from the door, an uneasy feeling fell over them. I’ve experienced the feeling all too well myself.

I never lingered too long in that spot and would find myself rushing past it in fear after dark. Even in the daytime, the locked door had an eeriness to it. There was a heavy feeling that would always fall over you like something was watching you. The longer you dared stay there, the stronger and more ominous the feeling became.

That’s why the door always remained locked.

While that door gave me a chilling feeling each time I passed it, I’d be denying if I told you curiosity didn’t ever entice me, beckoning me to open that door. There have been times where I nearly did.

I never knew what kind of room was ever behind that door. I only had my imagination to paint a picture.

One late evening as I sat at the kitchen table, out of nowhere, I felt a heavy feeling of being watched. While the chilling feeling continued to be a nerve wracking experience, it had strangely become a common occurrence.

This time was different. The desire to open that door tempted every ounce of self control I ever had.

Don’t you want to know what’s on the other side?

A cold chill washed over me. It was the first time I had ever heard the voice. The voice that spoke was right behind me as if someone was leaning over to whisper in my ear. I jerked my head in its direction but saw nothing.

Had it been my imagination? My fear and curiosity of what lied behind that door ultimately triggering an illusion? I wanted to believe it was a figment of my imagination but the whispered voice behind me felt as real as anything.

Almost as if I were under hypnosis, I walked over to the door and slowly placed my hand on the door knob and attempted to turn it despite already knowing it was locked.

I looked up on the ledge above the door and saw it. The key. Just the sight of it enticed me to take it and finally unlock that door.

Don’t you want to know what’s on the other side?

I tightening my grip on the key as I heard the voice again. I couldn’t deny that I did want to know and I didn’t like that.

I was never given a reason why that door was never to be opened. I placed the key in the door knob and stopped there giving myself an opportunity to back out before it was too late. I only placed my head against the door and listened.

I pulled away from the door immediately. The unexpected energy coming from the other side of that door was strong. Summoning every ounce of courage I had, I placed an ear on the door again.

I could feel the energy course through from the other side. This time I listened longer and heard the very faint yet unmistakable sound of voices conversing with one another. I pulled away from the door again this time even more at unease as both my fear and curiosity grew stronger.

What was on the other side?

One part of me wanted to open that door while the other feared doing that very thing. I fought with both. Before I had a chance to change my mind, I turned the key, unlocked the door and slowly pushed it open just barely an inch. And then an inch more.

An intense wave of emotions feel over me. After all this time, the door was unlocked all because of one simple action.

The room was pitch black concealing its mystery even more. Was it too late to shut the door, turn back and pretend this never happened?

I could still hear the intangible voices and with the door now open, the energy was more intense than before.

Was the fear of the locked door irrational?

I pushed the door open another inch more and before I could back out, I stepped in and into the darkness. Just a sliver of light from the cracked door was my only source of light.

I took a deep breath to calm my nerves. I didn’t hear the voices anymore but the feeling that this room wasn’t empty was still there.

I felt the wall for a light switch then around me for a cord. I finally found the cord. Holding it gave me the strangest combination of comfort and unease.

The darkness was concealing something. With just one pull of the cord, the flood of light would finally reveal what was on the other side.

I gave the cord a yank but nothing happened. The bulb had long since burnt out or there was wasn’t even a bulb to begin with. A strange feeling of relief washed over me as the darkness continued to conceal just what was in that room.

I turned around to leave and felt for the door. I shouldn’t be in here any way.

I turned the knob, but the door was locked.

***

This short horror story was inspired by a writing prompt that simply stated, "write a story with The Locked Door as the title."