Member-only story
The Door
A Chilling Short Story That Stays With You
The realtor said the previous owner had hanged himself in the basement. She said it quickly, the way people say things they want you to forget. Then she smiled and pointed at the beautiful garden.
Lena signed the papers anyway. The house was cheap. Too cheap. Her husband, Martin, said that was a blessing.
They moved in on a Saturday.
The house was fine. Three bedrooms, one bathroom upstairs, an open kitchen, a basement with a washing machine and a faint smell of something rotten that no amount of bleach could kill. But it’s worth for the price at least.
On the first night, Lena went to use the bathroom. She sat on the edge of the tub, waiting for the water to warm, and noticed something behind the towel rack. A small gap in the wall. Not a crack. A little gap with a tiny brass hinge at the top, painted over so many times it had almost disappeared.
She pulled the towel rack aside. Behind it was a small door, no bigger than a cupboard. She opened it.
Inside was a bathroom.
Not her bathroom. A different one. White hexagonal tiles on the floor. A lovely tub. A mirror with a gold frame. The light inside was warm, like afternoon sun, even though it was eleven at night and there was no…
