Posts

Chapter 2: The Stranger in the Market

Door
Afbeelding
Elias spent the rest of the day trying to convince himself the morning had been a hallucination. The door, the note, the impossible room—they all felt like fragments of a vivid nightmare. Yet the weight of the envelope and the cryptic warning clung to his thoughts like a stubborn shadow. By evening, his curiosity overwhelmed him. Seeking distraction, he wandered to the nearby market square, a lively patchwork of stalls, street performers, and chatter. The bustle was grounding, ordinary—a welcome contrast to the surreal events of his home. He browsed aimlessly until a peculiar stall caught his eye. Unlike the others, which displayed colorful produce or handmade trinkets, this one had only a single item: a tarnished silver pocket watch. Behind it sat a woman in her late sixties, her face lined but her eyes sharp and bright. “Looking for something, Mr. Thorn?” she asked, her voice cutting through the din like a blade. Elias froze. “How do you know my name?” The woman smiled faintly, her e...
Een reactie posten
Read more »

Chapter 1: The Door That Shouldn't Be There

Door
Afbeelding
Elias Thorn lived a life of deliberate simplicity. His days began and ended with routines as precise as clockwork. The scent of freshly brewed coffee greeted him at 6:15 every morning, mingling with the faint tang of ink from his folded newspaper. His toast, invariably charred at the edges, was a testament to a toaster he’d stubbornly refused to replace. For Elias, this predictability was a comfort. The world outside his modest home was chaotic, and chaos had no place in his life—not anymore. But on this particular morning, something was off. He couldn’t quite place it at first, dismissing the sensation as leftover unease from a restless sleep. It wasn’t until he reached for his coat that he saw it. At the far end of his hallway, there was a door. Elias froze. He had lived in this house for twelve years, long enough to memorize its every quirk and creak. There had never been a door there before. Yet here it was, solid and unassuming, as if it had always belonged. The door was pain...
Een reactie posten
Read more »