Migdalia

In a small town east of where you are there lived a community of people who had forgotten how to live and to love. The only thing they seem to know was fear. Each day they went about their mundane tasks with nary a word among them. The children didn’t laugh, they didn’t play – they didn’t even befriend one another as they were never taught to do so.
One day a stranger happen to come across the town. He was on his way to no where and figured that this town was on his way. The first person he came across was an elderly man. The young man smiled wide and approached the man. „Why hello there sir. May I ask if there is a place I can get a room?“ He noticed that the elderly man would not look at him in the eye. The man pointed to a sign and shuffled off as quickly as he could. „Hmm“ said the young man, and he walked towards the sign. It was a bed and breakfast. He stepped into the foyer of the establishment and noticed a matronly woman quickly putting a sign on the front desk before disappearing into a back room. ‚No rooms available‘. He laughed out loud. „I’m starting to feel as if I’m not welcome here“ he said aloud to no one in particular. He walked out of the bed and breakfast and figured he’d tried the next town. As he walked a few feet he suddenly heard a voice whisper to him „pssst……you can stay there for the night.“ He turned and saw that hidden in the shadows was a man about 35 years or so. „Excuse me“ he said. „Shhh. Not so loud. I shouldn’t be talking to you“ the stranger said from the shadows.

The young man walked over to the shadowed area and was finally able to see the person who was whispering to him. „Did you say you have a place I can stay for the night?“ the young man asked. „Yes. You can stay in that shed, behind this red door.“ „Why thank you“ said the young man. He hitched his backpack and stepped past the door. Inside he saw that it was a little dusty, but otherwise clean.

There was a big wood table in the center of the room and a window up high that would let in plenty of light. A cot where he could sleep, a bench at one corner and also cords of wood pilled throughout the room. He’d be sleeping in a wood shed. But then he knew he’d slept in worst places. This was luxury in comparison to some of the places he had stayed in the past. He turned to thank the man, but the man was already gone. „Strange“ he said out loud. „Well, I guess I’ll find out if I’m welcome or not by tomorrow.“

The next morning having had a great night rest he stepped outside the shed and pulled out a bench from the room. He also pulled out his backpack and set it on the floor. He also pulled out some instruments from his bad and a few pieces of wood from the shed. He started to carve and continued throughout the day. Once or twice he was certain he saw a few faces from the bed and breakfast, from a the windows of a few of the homes and even a few children who stayed in the shadows in the corner. This pattern continued for 2 more days. By the third day the young man had completed his first piece. He had carved a puppet of Abraham Lincoln. By this point he would have company for hours except that they wouldn’t approach him, but still they stayed.

He stood up and stretched and said out loud „well, I guess this one is done. He took the puppet inside the the shed and closed the red door. I’ll start on next one. Hmmmm, what should it be?“ He heard a voice whisper „Washington.“ „Good idea‘ he said. „Washington stands for truth. So Washington it will be.“ He heard more voices whispering among each other.

By the next day he had finished his second puppet, Washington. One again he repeated the gestures of the day before. He stood up and stretched and walked past the red door into the shed where he took the other puppet. He stepped outside and sat at the bench. „Hmmm, I wonder what I can do now?“ he said out loud once more. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw two children who approached him silently. He looked up and said „hello“. The children stopped and both looked at their feet. The young man gave them a big smile and said „boy, I sure hope you can help me, as I don’t know what to do next.“ The little girl looked up shyly and said „can you make Jesus?“ „Can I make Jesus? Of course I can!“ and he began to carve. Before you know it he had a crowd of 10 people surrounding all curious about his work.

Over the next couple of days he created more puppets; Ghandi, Martin Luther King, Shakyamuni Buddha. Before long, he was answering questions from children and adults. He decided that he would put on a show with the puppets now that he had an audience. He went inside the red door and got the two other puppets. Each puppet had a story to tell and a lesson for the people to learn. These puppets had taught the people to love and live without fear. Everyone got to know each other and laughter and joy once again filled the town. The town decided to hold a celebration to honor the young man. He set all of the puppets on the bench so that all the people could see them. Everyone thanked him for the difference that he made to the town. He simply said „all I did was to remind you of what you already knew.“

As the people continued to celebrate he quietly picked up his backpack and opened the red door and stepped in. The town people wanted one more show and the a few children were sent to get him from the shed. They walked up to the red door and knocked. They knocked for a few times without getting an answer. The man who had originally gave him permission to stay in the shed with the red door approached the door and opened it. Inside the shed was dusty as it had been years since it had been used. There wasn’t any evidence that anyone had been staying in the shed. No one ever saw that young man again and no one could say what it was that the town experienced. All they had was a collection of puppets and a red door to a shed that no one ever used again.

Mathew

The Secret Door By: Mathew Jones

My name is Lawrence Strong Jr. I once lived in a village where the people were stricken with fear due to an unexplainable occurrence that happened one day a year. As a result, I no longer live in this village, and I wish I could reach the remaining villagers to let them know I am alright and they have nothing to fear. I awoke on August 4th of 1961 to the sun blaring in my bedroom window. I gradually got out of bed and went downstairs to boil water for tea. My body was aching from the long days work the day before. It was summer time and I spent the majority of my day helping people with construction on their houses.

I lived in Wanshire Village, a small almost forgotten village in the middle of nowhere.

Our community was a small one, but everyone knew each other by name and we got everything we needed from our farms and nature, which I always loved. The village used to be very old and run down, but my father had dedicated his life to fixing it up before that fateful day when the job was passed on to me. When I was a boy, I would learn from my father, Lawrence Strong Sr., how to do handy work on people’s houses in the village, and everyone in the town loved us for the work we put in. My dad had always been known for his good deeds and asked for very little for the work he did. He knew that most people did not have much to give. Each year on the day of August 5th, which is known as Beacon Day, it is required by Town Hall that everyone remain indoors, because it has been known that people had disappeared from town on this day.

Outside the front entrance of the village is a large field that goes on for miles. At one end of this field is a little run down cottage that is forbidden for anyone to go to, because on Beacon Day, the entire house glows and sends a beacon of light towards our village, beckoning to the residents. When people are outdoors on this day, the light puts them in a trance and attracts them towards the house, where they follow the light and are never seen again.

One year, there was a large thunderstorm on Beacon Day and lightning struck the roof of my neighbor’s house. My father and I were in the house with our windows boarded up as everyone else in town was also. We could hear the house burning and screams coming from the house and my father wanted to go out and rescue them. I begged and pleaded with him not to go for I knew as anyone else would that he would never come back, but he insisted that he must try to do something. He told me that if he didn’t come back he wanted me to continue on his legacy, which I promised to do. I waited in the house patiently and eventually I heard the screams stop. I continued listening for anything happening at the house. Eventually, I heard the entire house collapse after burning to the ground, but I had not heard any people in the house, so I had assumed my father was dead and it tore me apart inside.

The following day, the house was searched for the bodies of the family and the body of my father, but they had all disappeared from the burning house and I was left on this earth with no family thanks to that beacon. In my father’s honor I had continued working on the village and keeping it in as good of condition as I can, but I could never help but wonder what had happened to him. But today was August 4th, which means all of the villagers are required to attend an informational meeting about Beacon Day. The meeting is always the same traditional thing. The eldest person in our village and the only known survivor of Beacon Day, Mr. Crooks, tells his story about his experience with the light from the house and why we must protect ourselves from what was now known as “the secret door.” When Old Man Crooks was younger, he was tending to his cattle in the barn on the Beacon Day. The day was coming to an end, so he had made the assumption that it was okay to be outdoors at this time. He had come out of his barn and the beacon was shining from the house. He says that he does not know what came over him, but he could not resist following the light to the house.

He walked and walked with no control over his legs, and he heard a pleasant voice calling his name as he continued towards the light. He approached the door to the cottage and it swung open on its own. The light was so bright that he could not see anything at first, but he could faintly see that the light was coming through a small passageway in the wall of the cottage. He had followed the pleasant voice to the door, and when he got close enough he could see his wife calling his name, but before he could reach her he heard a loud shriek that brought pain to his entire body.

The passageway was trying to suck him in, but before it could the town hall bell struck midnight and he had fallen unconscious.

When he awoke, he was back home in his bed as if nothing had ever happened. He tells this story as a warning every year to people that they must remain indoors, for he believes that whatever is in that secret door is dangerous and had been causing people to disappear every year for as long as anyone can remember. As soon as he finished his story, everyone began to board up their windows and prepare for the following day. I however had something else in mind. The curiosity of what is behind that door has been killing me since my father had disappeared. What if I could find him and bring him back with me? I had been thinking and plotting about a plan for years and I was ready to put my plan into action. I was tired of cowering on this day every year and figured it was worth a shot to see what is inside that door even if it kills me.

Around ten o’clock I had walked out to the cottage. The forest animals must also know what day this is, for I saw flocks of crows flying in the opposite direction overhead and deer, rabbits, and wolves fleeing from the house. It was a dark night and the wind was blowing with almost an eerie howl. As the cottage came in sight, I could see that the beacon was not yet shining from the house. The house was falling apart with broken windows and termites in every crevice of the wooden walls. The chimney of the house was in perfect condition, and it has been said that the light from the secret door shines brightest through the chimney and lights up the whole sky. I had brought numerous ropes from home and a harness that wrapped around my chest and waste. I had tied one end of each rope to a different tree in front of the house and tied the other ends of the ropes to my harness and waited. When midnight struck, who knows what could happen? I was harnessed and ready to go in and if I was to get sucked in, I could use the ropes to pull myself out of the crevice. My father had given me an old sword when I was a kid, and I brought that as well for protection if there was anything dangerous inside.

The anticipation was killing me so I looked into one of the windows of the cottage and was very surprised. I did not see a door of any kind in the house. There was lots of old furniture and dust and bugs, but there was no evidence of where the beacon of light was coming from. I could hear the villagers scrambling in the distance so I knew that midnight was approaching. I stood in front of the cottage and waited for the bell to strike and the beacon to shine. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes and the bell rang. I opened my eyes and the cottage door violently swung open in front of me. It was then that the whole house began to shake and a hole in the wall ripped through the wood at the other end of the room. It was then that the beacon started shining and it was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. I saw colors that couldn’t even be imagined. The light was unbearably bright but I could not look away. It was then I started hearing a voice, however it wasn’t the pleasant voice of a woman like Old Man Crooks was hearing, but it was the voice of my father. It was so clear and I had longed to hear his voice for so long that I could not help walking closer to the light.

As I stepped through the door it began sucking me in. I could see my father in the distance and I could not help but to reach out for him. I used my sword and cut the ropes off of my harness and began to fly very fast through this open colorful void towards my father. The next thing I knew, I was knocked unconscious. When I awoke, unlike Old Man Crooks, I was still floating through the open colorful void and did not wake up in my bed. I looked around but did not see anybody or anything but colors everywhere. I did not know how long I was unconscious for, so I started to observe the area. There was no flat surface to walk around, however I could move in whatever direction I chose using my mind. In any direction I flew I did not see anything new. I just continued to see colorful shapes and patterns fly by me.
I had been flying for what seemed like forever, and suddenly my father’s voice returned. He was saying, “ Lawrence, follow my voice!” I immediately flew in the direction of his voice and continued on this path. The colors that were once flying past me had vanished and a flash of light put me in a new place. It was entirely white and empty.

My clothes had changed to all white and it was another endless void, however in this one I could stand and walk around. I looked around and saw nothing until a flash of light had brought my father before me with open arms and a wide grin. I could not help but to reach out and embrace him. “ Son, I am so happy that you finally decided to come look for me,” he said. “Dad, it’s great to see you but what is this place.” “Son, I am not sure how to tell you this but this is the place of our salvation.” “Salvation?” “Yes, you see in the village we lived in together, we suffered hard work and barely any pay. We did not have enough food and made the best of our poor situation, but for years the people of the light have been trying to send us here where we can end that stage of existence and begin a new one.” “ Who are the people of the light?” “The people of the light are people who have died and been reborn. You are a person of the light now and so am I. If you can believe it we are now both deceased and we no longer exist in human form. In this place we can do whatever we want and have whatever we want. We can live forever. There is no age here; we do not need food, water, shelter, or anything like that. We can do whatever we want.” “You mean we are dead? But if you died that day, why did your body disappear?” “Well when I stepped out of the house, I kept my eyes closed and ran next door. The family was screaming and trapped in a corner. When I went to save them, a large piece of the wall near them fell off the house and that is when we saw the light. The family next door and I both escaped the house to the cottage thanks to the people of the light. I wish I could have brought you, but the draw of the light was so powerful I could not overpower it and go get you.” “So what you are telling me is that we are dead and this is heaven.” “Yes, what our village has feared and hid from for years has really been the only path between earth and heaven, and once a year on August 5th, the people of the light give humans the opportunity to end their life on earth and cone to heaven. The trouble with our human lives is that we fear the unknown so we were unknowingly fearing the next stage of our lives for all those years.” “So if this is heaven, where is mom?” “She is here and waiting for you. She wanted me to come greet you before you saw the rest of heaven. This is our new home now.”

And so I took my father’s hand and followed him to where I stay today. Humans of the village are flawed because they worry each year about something that would end all worry for the rest of their existence. If anyone is left in the village, just know that you must follow the beacon of light to the cottage if you want to end your lives of misery and join a new world of peace and happiness.

Gavin

As I peered through the key hole on that cold dark night, I saw something which I will never forget. As I approached the door handle in my bear feet, the floorboards creaked and startled me a little. I was frightened that I might wake the others who were staying in the guest house that evening.

The property owner had clearly told us not to go near the room at the end of the hall but it fell on deaf ears and for some reason it created a deep curiosity in my soul. Even before she had finished talking, I knew I had to know what was so special about that room. As I neared the door, I could see a beam of warm yellow light coming from the keyhole. I could also hear a faint music, old style music, that I did not recognise. I cautiously peered through the keyhole.

It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the brightness but it took much longer, years even, for my head to get around what I saw in that room. To this day, I still wonder if I was dreaming. Floating, yes floating, in mid air there was a being. While it looked human with, eyes a nose and a mouth, it emitted a strange radiant glow. It looked happy as it danced around the room enjoying the music.

As I continued to stare, I saw a second being; this one was more feminine looking. She was clapping in time to the music and enjoying the dance of the other being. Everything else in the room seemed normal; there were armchairs, a desk, a bed and these two creatures. This was not threatening in that scene, in fact it looked blissful. As I watched, I felt quite serene and enjoyed the melody of the music. I was quickly brought back to reality by a noise at the other end of the hall. I did not want anyone to catch me peering through keyholes, so I quickly returned to my room.
I did not sleep that night. I thought about going back to the room and looking again, in fact I felt compelled to but I could hear noise in the hall and was frightened.

At breakfast, I asked the property owner about the guests in the room at the end of the corridor. She was defensive in her reply and explained they had left earlier that morning. When I returned to my room, the door at the end of the corridor was wide open and all in the room was normal.

I have never told anyone about what I saw that night. I often wish I had a camera but even then people would probably not believe me and put it down to photo editing. Every so often as I lie awake at night, I can hear the melody of the music playing in my head and it fills me with a sense of peace as i think back to the night I looked through the keyhole of the ‘secret door’.

Brian

The door is always closed but for once a year. The typical day is dark.

Muffled sounds of whispering and scratching. The laying of metal onto wood. Lucy sits at a table next to Peter. They sit across from Ellie and Rosco. None of them look up because they are too concerned with their hands. In boxes on either side of the table are shards, screws, planks of stained wood, brackets.

When Lucy tightens a screw as far as it will go she gets up and brings it over to a bucket on a track that, if there was enough light, she could see disappear into the tunnel. She hits the button and the conveyor begins and takes her finished piece away. Today she hears the gears work and it awakens a curiosity in her that waxes and wanes like the tide of the ocean. There is nothing to do about it so she walks back. At the table she rifles through the box nearest to her and pulls out a metal bracket and some planks. Ellie looks at her and says, „Too fast.“ Lucy ignores her because that’s Ellie’s complaint for everyone.

Peter and Rosco are leaning in over a piece on which they both are working. Rosco starts laughing. Peter shushes him. They are building the tunnel piece by piece. They have never been to the end of the tunnel but sometimes want to go when their imaginations get the best of them. They do what they are told. They finish a piece and send it down so that it can be assembled to some part of the wall. They have been building the tunnel all their lives.

Peter is having trouble seeing. His eyes have gotten worse these last few years. He rubs his sockets as if that will help. Rosco laughs. Ellie grunts. She wants everyone to be quiet. Lucy finishes up another piece. “Too fast,” Ellie says louder.

On the day that the door is opened, they do not move from the table. The rules are that they pretend like the door does not open. They have always pretended. When the door opens a man comes in wearing all black. His clothes are bulky like they are bullet proof. He has on a helmet. He says nothing. Light streams in as the metal door hangs on its metal hinge. It blinds them at the table. They pretend as best they can. Lucy looks at the man as he walks into the tunnel. The door swings closed. It is dark again. She gets up and follows him. Ellie holds her breath. She wants to call out but is too afraid. Peter struggles to see anything. Rosco giggles and pretends like this day is the same as yesterday. With no shoes on Lucy makes no sound as she follows the man. His boot steps are loud and echo down the tunnel and come back to them. Sometimes she thinks she can her her own steps too but the man does not turn or stop. They walk for an hour. The small conveyor that saddles the tunnel, on which they send their assembled pieces, is pristine, save for a layer of dust, though it is too dark to see it. Lucy’s stomach grumbles.

Back at the table the slot has opened and their food trays have been handed out. There is something ahead that Lucy does not recognize. It is big and black. There are people too, welding and hammering the walls. There are small, dim work lights helping them see. The man in black walks through a doorway on the wall of the tunnel. Lucy crouches down, careful not to be seen. The workers sweat and curse. They wipe their brows like it is all hard work. The tunnel inches farther everyday. Lucy stays prone and crawls towards the open doorway. She peeks her head around the edge to see a room. There are tables on which lay platters of food: cucumbers, bread, jelly, pitchers of red liquid. The man in black is not in the room and Lucy cannot tell where he has gone. A whistle screams out and the tunnel builders put down their tools and begin towards the door. Lucy falls on her backside trying to turn around. She crab-walks backwards but not before one of the workers spots her. “Hey,” he says. She gathers her balance and turns around and runs back down the tunnel. The tunnel builder squints but loses track of her. Eyesight is eyesight. She runs as long as she can before her body can only walk. She bends her arm and places her hand on the small of her back for support. She is out of breath. After a while she forces herself and runs.

At the table she yells to Ellie, Rosco, and Peter. They squint at her. She tells them of the room and the food and the workers. “Food?” Rosco says. “So much of it,” Lucy says. “What’s at the end?” Peter says. “The end,” Lucy says. She doesn’t know what this means and neither does Peter. They all think about the end. Ellie and Rosco look at each other. They hear the tunnel like a siren. They hatch a plan. Next year, when the door is opened, they will all look at the man in black. If they cannot see him, they will close the door before he disappears into the tunnel because they can see in the near black better than in the near white.

If they must they will talk to him. If they must they will follow him. If they must, they agree, they will do whatever it takes.

Rosemary

The room was dark and all I could see was a bright blue light, shining through the keyhole of the secret door. A secret door so well camouflaged that when I put the lights on it disappeared. Lights on, no blue light, lights off, bright blue light.

I found the door, covered in wall paper, no joins or cracks, this had been deliberately hidden, and no-one wanted this room found. The house belonged to my Auntie who was in hospital after a fall, and the only fact I knew about her was her love of reading mystery books. This was the reason for my visit to take her some books from her home, to the hospital. Curiosity got the better of me and I tried to work out where I was in the house and where this room was, and what size. I decided that as there was light coming through the paper covering the door, there must be a light source.

It was really dark outside so it must be a light in the room itself, but how was I going to find out without ripping my Auntie’s house apart? Deciding that Auntie’s need for books and some clothes was greater than my curiosity, I visited the hospital and tried to talk to her about her house. Sadly she was too tired and asked me to go back the next day. Could I leave this to tomorrow I thought – no never, there was no point; I wouldn’t sleep anyway, so back I went to Auntie’s house. A rather large driveway meant I could drive all around the house and check for odd lights on, extra windows, maybe Auntie was cultivating exotic plants, the possibilities were endless as my imagination ran wild.
I went back in the house and started tapping the walls to see if there were any unusual sounding hollow gaps, but to no avail. I went back to the secret door pondering as to why anyone would have papered over it. Suddenly music started, my inside did a double flip and I realised I was shaking, my heart was thumping, I was scared, but I knew the music! The music that my Mother used to sing over and over was blue moon!

I sat down on the floor and reminisced over the times my Mother and I sang this song which brought back many happy memories, so good they must have relaxed me and I nodded off on the floor, and only woke when the sun started shining through the windows. It was midday and I had to visit Auntie, I showered and left.

Today Auntie was in fine fettle talking about the past, and mentioning my Mother her sister and their childhood. I tentatively asked about blue moon and her face lit up and then clouded over, and she stopped talking and rubbed her sprained leg. Auntie then said ‘That clock made me fall over! Will you please go back to my house and set my alarm clock to eight o’clock, I like to get up at eight.’ To say I was a bit bewildered was an understatement, but visiting was over, I leaned over gave her a hug and left.

Back at the house I decided I had to know once and for all what was behind the secret door. However being a stickler for jobs first, leisure later, I went in search of Auntie’s clock. The bedroom was a shambles, it was obviously where she had fallen, the bed was in disarray, all the things on the bedside table had been knocked onto the floor, all except a new clock radio cd player. The alarm was set to eleven o’clock pm, realisation hit me, it must have gone off in the dark when Auntie was asleep, and she got out of bed thinking it was morning and fell down. I tidied the room and went back for evening visiting.

Auntie was much better and in fine voice, ‘that clock is a nightmare Jenny, your Mother gave it to me because it plays our favourite song as an alarm, which is lovely but it has this brilliant blue light so I have to turn it round so the light hits the wall and not my face when I am in bed. It is so bright that when I’m in the library room you can see it through the keyhole of the old door which we covered because we wanted to use the room as a bedroom and not another library room.’ Jenny smiled because she had now discovered her Aunties secret door, without ripping her Auntie’s wall paper.

Jane

Behind the door is the scariest place in the World. It’s where all your dreams and hopes lie; all the if onlys and maybes. It is the land of might have been, the place where promises are kept. The key to the door is only to be found inside yourself, in a little box labelled ‚try‘. Some people think the key is in the bottle labelled ‚brave‘ but if you use the key from the try box, bravery will come. What is important is that you go into the room.

You must not stay in the doorway looking in or you will only find disappointment. Take a huge deep breath of life itself and advance. The only thing in your way is yourself and equally, all you will find inside the room is yourself. Go in. Go in now.