Jane stared and stared at the door. She stared at it so intently, she had memorized every feature of it by the time she had finished. It was about as normal as any door could be. It was wooden (or what looked like wood, she had not touched it), a warm, rusty brown, it had a shiny golden doorknob at the middle of the right side, and smooth, flowing dark lines randomly making their way down to the floor. The most prominent feature, though, was a large, plain white sign hanging from a nail on the middle of the door that said very bluntly:
Do Not Open.
She slowly tilted her head to the left and stared at it. Then she tilted her head one hundred eighty degrees to the right and stared at it some more. It was so enticing. The warm color called her name and the golden knob beckoned. She began to slowly walk towards the door with an outstretched hand and stopped short when her eyes wandered across the sign. She drew back her hand quickly and looked at it as if she had never seen it before. It was like it had a mind of its own.
She looked back up at the door and stepped back with a gasp when she realized it was scarcely an inch from her face. She did not remember walking to it. How in the world did she get that close? She turned around and clamped her eyes shut. She could not open that door. The sign said “no”. She slowly turned around and stared at her reflection in the handle. She stared at her cool, crisp reflection and traced it with her index finger.
Her hand began to wrap around the knob in the middle of her fourth time around her head. When she had a firm grasp on the knob she gulped and looked back at the sign. It bluntly exclaimed its warning just as it did before.
Do Not Open.She looked back at her waiting hand with wide eyes. She knew she should not do it. She knew it, the sign says so. Her hand began to rotate to the left. She spasmodically began to shake her head, but her hand kept turning. Her head shook more violently and the hand turned faster.
Do Not Open.The sign could never have been clearer. The knob reached the end of its rotation. She stood there for another moment staring at the doorknob, then her arm began its contraction toward her body. The door slowly opened without a sound and unveiled a dark interior. She squinted her eyes and looked hard into it, but could not make out any shapes. With a sigh of relief and satisfaction, she began to close the door, but it caught itself and would not close. With a gasp of terror she shoved her weight against the door, but it remained still. She frantically tugged and heaved at it, but the door remained open.
Then, faintly at first then increasing in volume, a sound reached out of the darkness. It was like nothing she ever heard before. She stopped struggling with the door and listened. It was warm and inviting; like a beautiful song written just for her. She came around to the front of the threshold and listened. It increased in volume while she stood there listening to its beauty. Then suddenly, with a blast of cold wind that knocked her backwards, it became a piercing, menacing shriek. She jumped and with a surge of adrenaline, wheeled an about face, and tore down the corridor.
She turned left, then right, then right again. Behind her, the noise escalated. Slipping into panic mode, she put every ounce of speed she could into her legs and ran right into a dark room.
A door slammed shut behind her and a sign swung back and forth and finally settled into place.
Do Not Open.
Some things are better to be left alone.
Copyright (thanks Brian) stuff, yada yada yada. It's not yours, please don't use it.
