They always told us never open the red door. Not if it knocks. Not if it cries. Not even if it says your name. Everyone in Elaren followed that one rule. It wasn’t written anywhere. But it was in the eyes of every old man, every mother, every kid who knew better than to ask. No one talked about what was behind it. No one dared. The red door stood in every house, bolted, dusty, some even bricked up. Mine was at the end of our narrow hallway. Just a solid, thick red door with an old brass handle. I’d walked past it my whole life. Never touched it. Never wanted to. Until the night it knocked.
I couldn’t sleep that night. Something felt weird in the air. Still. Too still. Even the ceiling fan made no sound. At first, I thought I imagined it. Knock. I held my breath. Then again Knock. Knock. Slow. Deep. Like someone wasn’t just knocking on wood, but through it. My chest tightened. I sat up. My room was cold. Freezing cold, even though the weather was warm outside. I looked toward the hallway, and somehow, I already knew where the knock had come from. The red door.
I should’ve called someone. Or just stayed in bed. That’s what I should’ve done. But I didn’t. I don’t know why, man. It’s like something pulled me toward it. My feet moved on their own. I didn’t even grab my phone. I walked slowly, each step on the wooden floor louder than it should’ve been. The hallway stretched longer than it ever had. Like the door was running away from me... or pulling me in. I stood in front of it. Heart thudding. Then came one last knock soft, like a whisper. And that’s when it said my name. Clear. Cold. Familiar.
I grabbed the handle. It was ice in my hand. My fingers froze around it for a second. And I turned it. I opened the red door.
It wasn’t a room. It wasn’t a closet. It wasn’t anything I understood. It was black. Pure. But not empty. You ever feel darkness that feels like it’s looking at you? That’s what it was. I should’ve backed off, slammed the door shut. But I couldn’t. I stood there, frozen. Then something moved in that black. Not a shape. More like a feeling. A presence. And it spoke. Not in words. More like the idea of words. “You’ve always belonged here.”
I don’t remember what happened next.
When I woke up, I was lying on the road outside my house. Not a scratch on me. It was still dark. Streetlights flickered. The air felt... wrong. I stood up and looked around. My house was there. Trees were there. But something felt off. I couldn’t explain it. Until I saw Mr. Arjun.
He lived two houses down. A sweet man, always gave me mangoes in summer. I waved at him when I saw him outside his gate. He looked up. His eyes were all white. Not rolled back. Just white. His mouth twitched. He stared at me like he didn’t know me at all. I took a step back. And he smiled. That smile was too wide.
As I walked home, everything looked right. But it felt... staged. The people walking around looked like people. But they didn’t blink. They moved weird. Like they were being controlled. Like puppets. Even the dogs barked without sound. I rushed inside my house, slamming the main door behind me. And that’s when I saw it.
The red door was gone.
There was a mirror now. Right where it used to be. Tall, dusty, and old. I stared into it. My reflection was there. But it didn’t feel like mine. It smiled before I did. It blinked slower. And then it whispered: “Welcome back.”
I stumbled back. My knees almost gave up. I didn’t know what the hell was happening. Was I dreaming? Had I lost my mind? I ran water over my face, slapped myself twice. But everything was real. Too real.
Since then, nothing’s been normal. I hear whispers at night. Coming from the walls. From under the bed. Sometimes even inside my own head. I see shadows move when there’s no light source. I feel watched even when I’m alone. Especially when I’m alone.
People in Elaren are changing. I see it in their faces. Some don’t talk anymore. Some don’t leave their homes. Some just vanish. Gone. As if they were never born. And every day, I hear from someone new “Hey, a red door appeared in my house... weird, right?” They laugh it off. But I know. I know what it means. The infection is spreading.
That door wasn’t cursed. It was sealed. For a reason. And I me, idiot me I opened it.
I think I released something. Something old. Something that doesn’t belong here. Or maybe something that does. Maybe it was here long before us. Watching. Waiting. And all it needed was one person dumb enough to turn the handle.
Now, every night, another knock happens somewhere. Another person opens. Another soul disappears. Sometimes, I wonder if I’m even still alive. Or if I died that night and the thing in the mirror is the one walking around in my skin.
I don’t sleep much anymore.
The mirror in my house sometimes shows things that aren’t in the room. A woman crying. A child with no eyes. A forest on fire. Sometimes... I see myself sleeping in bed. But I’m awake, watching it. You get what I’m saying?
I don’t know how to fix this. Maybe I can’t. Maybe the damage is done. But if you’re reading this, or if somehow this story gets told—just remember: don’t open the red door. Not if it knocks. Not even if it says your name. And if you already did... I’m sorry.
Tonight, I heard it again.
But this time... it’s not at my door,
It’s at yours.
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