The Red Door

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I shouldn’t have opened that door.

It was not intended for me to see. The map didn't show it. No one brought it up. I discovered it just now. It was concealed in a corner, tucked away. I initially believed it to be a component of the wall. However, a crimson door was there, beckoning me to approach it. It didn’t look special. Just a door. But the color was off. It wasn’t the bright red I expected. It was dark. Like it was absorbing the light around it.

I reached for the handle.

The room looked normal at first.

The floor was gray carpet. The walls were bare. A bulb hung from the ceiling. It smelled stale, like no one had been here in years. I walked in. The door clicked shut behind me. I didn’t think much of it. Just a room, right?

But something didn’t feel right. It felt off. Like it was watching me.

The walls felt closer.

I didn’t move. But something changed. The room was shrinking. The air was heavier. I turned back to the door. It wouldn’t open. The handle wouldn’t budge. Locked.

I stood there, hand still on the door. Everything felt too quiet. Too still.

The floor creaked.

At first, it was faint, but I couldn't help but notice it. With each step I took, the floor groaned. As if the space didn't want me to move. The air had a stronger odor. As if there were something decaying in the corner. I was unable to breathe, but I wasn't sure if it was real or just a hallucination.

I needed to get out.

The room started whispering.

At first, it was faint. Then, it got louder. Clearer. I could hear it saying something. Not something. It was saying:

"Leave."

I froze.

The voice wasn’t coming from anywhere. It was just there, surrounding me. I spun around. No one. The room was still empty. Just four walls and the door behind me. But I felt it. The room was alive.

"It knows you."

The voice was closer. Right in my ear. I spun again. No one. Nothing. I couldn’t breathe. The walls were closing in. I looked back at the door—still locked.

Then the door handle rattled. Someone—something—was on the other side. It wasn’t frantic. It wasn’t trying to break in. It was almost... mocking.

I tried again. I banged on the door, yelling, screaming. Nothing happened. The room didn’t care. It stood there, still, watching.

The walls were changing.

I looked around. The room wasn’t the same. The edges of the walls were soft, shifting. The air was thick. Something was wrong. The room was alive. It knew I was there.

I stepped back, but the floor creaked again. “It wants you.”

That’s when I realized. The room didn’t just want me in it. It wanted me to stay. Forever.

I ran. I tried to run. But when I reached the door, it wasn’t the same. The hallway I came from? Gone. The door? Gone.

It was just the room. And it was closing in on me.

“You can’t leave.”

Now... How long I've been here is unknown to me. Time no longer seems genuine. The space changes. It observes. It waits. The door never opens, but it's always there. I'm stranded here. I participate in it.

And the voice? It’s me. It’s my voice, but it isn’t.

"You’re one of us now."

I think it’s right. I think I’ve always been here.

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