The Door

This story is by Zac Whiting and was part of our 2024 Fall Writing Contest. You can find all the writing contest stories here.

Gianna was the sort of girl you didn’t want to talk to. She looked down on everyone, even people taller than her, and she always had something unpleasant to say. Most of her friends were more like adjacent strangers. She never asked about their lives, and they didn’t dare ask about hers. In fact, whenever she walked into the room, they would all flee to the bathroom, or the parking lot, or anywhere else to avoid getting stuck in a conversation with her. Unsurprisingly, Gianna often found herself alone at college parties, sitting near the wall, quietly judging everyone else.

I tell you this, because you must understand how abrasive Gianna was and how little she cared for the feelings of others. If she were kinder, then our story would be rather short. If she were kinder, there wouldn’t be a monster lurking behind the door of her bedroom.

Gianna awoke to a strange noise. She immediately slipped out of bed and turned on the light. Normally, people are afraid when they wake up in such a manner, but not Gianna. In her case, fear had been replaced with disgust. Someone or something had disturbed her beauty sleep, and they were going to get an earful about it. She marched over to where she heard the noise. In her head, insults were firing off like rockets on the Fourth of July, and her finger was held in the air, poised for pointing.

To her surprise, there was a door in the wall that wasn’t supposed to be there. As far as she knew, there were only two doors in her bedroom. One led into the hallway and the other into her closet. But here was a third door, tucked away behind her dresser, and it was slightly ajar.

Gianna shook the curiosity out of her mind and returned to her stubborn self. She opened the door wide and stepped inside. Not far was a halo of orange light under which was a man, a corded phone, and a little table. The man wore a patchwork jacket with far too many patterns and colors, and his shoes were different shades of blue. As Gianna approached, she overheard him shouting into the phone.

“No, Clarissa, you don’t understand…She’s a lost cause…I demand to be reassigned somewhere else…Now, you listen to me…”

Gianna couldn’t help herself. Her mind reeled with criticisms, about the man and his funny jacket, about the table that was cheaply made by the looks of it, and about the phone, which was outdated and chipping red flecks onto the table. She opened her mouth to say everything she was thinking, when the man slammed the phone onto the receiver and turned around.

Their eyes met, and the man frowned at her. “You’re late,” he growled.

Offended, she said, “Late?” She would have said more, but the accusation seemed too ridiculous to address.

“Yes,” said the man as he crossed his arms. “L-A-T-E, Late! And what are you wearing? Are those pajamas?”

“What do you think, Sherlock,” Gianna fired back. “It’s the middle of the night, what else would I be wearing? And you’re one to talk – have you looked in the mirror lately?”

“I don’t believe in mirrors,” the man said flatly. He turned and walked out into the darkness. After a moment, someone clapped their hands, and another ball of orange light appeared thirty feet away. The man sat down at a large metal desk and straightened some papers. Across from the desk was a gray, suede sofa. The man glared at Gianna. With an air of annoyance he said, “Do you mind? I’d like to get started now.” He gestured for her to sit.

Gianna, realizing she was now in control of the situation, took her time getting to the gray couch. She sat down with more grace than a queen during her coronation.

“Thank you,” the man said. He sounded exasperated, which sent a smile across Gianna’s face. “Now,” he continued, “let’s begin by-“

“I’d like to know how long you’ve had a secret door in my bedroom,” Gianna interrupted. The man looked up in a stupor. “You heard me,” she continued. “I’d like to know what gives you the right to build something like that in someone else’s house, and what gives you the right to trespass on the privacy of a woman!”

The man was astonished. “Really? That’s your question?” He looked around at the darkness surrounding them, then looked back at her. “That’s what you really want to know? Never mind that the door you walked through should have spilled you onto the front yard, or that this place is literally a void for as far as you can see.” He took a deep breath. “If you must know, the door was installed moments before you walked through it.”

“Ha!” Gianna laughed. “If it was only put there moments before I found it, then how am I late?” She sat up a little straighter. She loved getting the better of others.

The man clenched his jaw. “We’re wasting time,” he said. “Can we get on with this?”

“I don’t even know what this is,” Gianna said.

“It will all make sense in a moment.” The man lifted his papers and began reading. “Gianna Peligrosa. Daughter of an engineer. The youngest of five siblings. That’s a big family. Reunions must be exciting.” He paused and looked up at her.

Gianna forced a smile. “We don’t get together very much.”

“I see.” The man scanned his documents. “Well, everyone else in your family comes together for birthdays and holidays, but you never join them, do you?”

“Is this some kind of interrogation?”

“No,” the man said. “I already know the answers, I just want to see what you have to say for yourself. So, you’re not very close with your family. That’s alright, not many people your age are. I’m sure you’ve perfected all your reasons for keeping them out of your life. Let’s talk about your friends, shall we? It says here you don’t have any.” He looked up at her again. This time, Gianna’s ears grew hot. There was something in his gaze that made her skin crawl.

“I don’t know what your paper says, but it’s wrong,” she said, controlling her anger. “I have a lot of friends. Looking at your situation, I’d say I probably have more friends than you.”

“You’d be wrong,” the man said. “Listen, Miss Peligrosa, I don’t want to be here. I’m not your biggest fan, but I don’t get to make the rules.” He stood and walked around to the front of his desk. “You’re almost out of time, and I’ve been assigned to help you get your affairs in order.”

At that, Gianna’s train of thought froze on its tracks.

Almost out of time? Affairs in order?

“Are you threatening me?”

“I’m trying to help you,” the man responded. He spoke so calmly, Gianna didn’t know if he was bluffing or not. Her brain told her to ignore everything he was saying. He was a strange recluse from a dark place who still used corded phones and wore pleated pants.

“I don’t believe you,” she said.

“You don’t have to. But I assure you, Miss Peligrosa, there is no one waiting in line to help you prepare for what’s next.”

“What’s next is I’m going to go back to my room and call the police. Then, there will be no one waiting in line to help you!” She turned on her heels and stormed towards the mysterious door. Only, it wasn’t there anymore. She reached a hand into the empty darkness.

“Death is a frightening thought,” the man called out. “It’s a door you pass through but can never open again.” Gianna heard his soft footsteps approach. She turned, her eyes betraying her fear.

“I want to go back to my room now,” she said, her voice trembling. It was a new emotion for her – fear – but she still held her head high.

The man clapped his hands. The sound echoed through the void, and Gianna heard a soft click behind her. The door had returned, and through it she saw the familiar blue carpet of her bedroom.

“If you’ll allow,” came the man’s voice, gentler than before, “I would like to leave the door in your room. In case you change your mind.”

Gianna didn’t look back, but she gave a small nod. Then, she stepped through the door and shut it behind her.

She realized she’d been holding her breath and let it out. Did she believe any of it? Was her life really coming to an end?

There was her bed. Her mind and body both yearned for that soft and gentle relief. She was so tired, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to fall asleep. Not tonight.