The Three Doors

The first thing that wakes me is the sound of my name. Not loud. Not whispered. Just there, as if someone standing at the edge of my bed breathed it into the dark. “Zina…” My eyes snap open. For a few seconds, all I hear is the soft hum of the ceiling fan and the far-off barking of a neighborhood dog. The room looks exactly the way it should: my schoolbag slumped against the wardrobe, the leftover art supplies on my desk, the faint glow of my charging phone. Nothing strange. Nothing dangerous. But my heart is beating too fast for it to be “nothing.” I sit up slowly, and that’s when I notice it, the air feels heavier than usual, like the room is holding its breath. I’ve had strange dreams all my life, but something about tonight is different. Too real. Too close. I rub my face, trying to shake off the leftover fog. I should lie back down. I should force myself to sleep again so I can wake up for school without looking like a stressed ghost. But the moment I blink... I’m not in my room anymore. I’m standing somewhere else. Somewhere wrong. The ground beneath me is cold and rough, like old concrete. I look up, and I’m surrounded by walls that stretch forever into darkness. A long corridor. The same corridor. The one I’ve seen in pieces, fragments, flashes for years. But tonight it’s clear. Solid. Whole. And at the end of it, three doors wait for me. One with scratches. One glowing faintly gold. One shaking like something inside wants to escape. My breath fogs the air. I’ve seen the doors before, always blurry, always half-formed, but never like this. Never bold. Never as if they’re watching me back. A shape moves in the corner of my vision. I turn fast. Someone stands behind me. Tall. Wrapped in shadow. No face. No features. Just the outline of a man, as if he’s carved out of darkness itself. He raises one hand and points to the doors. I want to run. I want to scream. But when I open my mouth, no sound comes out. A deep, distorted voice fills the corridor. “Choose the right door… or lose everything.” The floor cracks beneath my feet. The doors stretch farther away. The shadow man steps closer. And then.... My alarm explodes with sound. I jerk upright in my bed, gasping. Sunlight streams through my window like nothing happened. My phone vibrates with morning notifications. My mom is shouting my name from the kitchen, telling me not to be late. Reality returns all at once. But my hands are still shaking. This wasn’t a normal dream. I know that immediately. The heavy feeling, the voice, the vivid detail, this one felt like it clawed its way out of somewhere it shouldn’t. And if experience has taught me anything, it means something is coming. Something bad. School feels too bright after a night like that. Students push through the gate, complaining about heat, homework, or teachers. Nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing to match the storm twisting inside my chest. Jide spots me from across the courtyard and jogs over, his backpack bouncing. “You look like someone that fought a demon in her sleep,” he says. I nearly tell him the truth. That the demon might not be a joke this time. But before I can answer, Kelechi joins us, quietly slipping into step like he always does. He studies my face for three seconds. “You dreamt again.” Not a question. I sigh. “Yeah.” “The same dream?” he asks. “Worse,” I say. And even though I’m trying to sound calm, the fear creeps into my voice. Kelechi’s expression changes. He’s always serious, but now he looks… worried. That alone shakes me. Jide frowns. “Guys, you’re doing that thing again where you speak in mystery codes. At least explain.” I stop walking. “Fine.” I inhale. “I saw the three doors again.” Jide’s face shifts. He may joke a lot, but he knows what that means. We’ve been best friends since primary school, he’s seen enough of my strange visions to know when something is wrong. But before we can say more, the bell rings. We move toward class with everyone else, blending into the noise, but my mind stays locked on that shadow man and his warning. Choose the right door… or lose everything. By lunch break, I’ve convinced myself I’m overreacting. It’s just another dream. A scary one, yes, but dreams don’t harm people. That lie lasts only ten minutes. I’m in the cafeteria, standing in line for rice and stew, when I feel it again, the heavy air. My skin prickles. Something shifts behind me. I turn. A man stands near the doorway. Too still. Too focused. He looks completely out of place among noisy teenagers and plastic trays, tall, wearing a long dark coat despite the heat. His eyes scan the room like he’s searching for someone. Searching for… me? No. That’s ridiculous. But when his gaze slides across the crowd and lands on mine, everything inside me freezes. His eyes widen, as if he recognizes me. He moves toward me. My stomach drops. “Zina?” Jide nudges me from behind. “Why are you standing like statue?” I swallow hard and whisper, “That man… he’s coming.” Jide looks. His face tightens. “He doesn’t look like a teacher.” “Or a parent,” I add. “Or normal,” Kelechi says quietly. The man is almost at our table now. The noise around us fades. My heart slams against my ribs. “Let’s go,” Kelechi says. We leave our trays behind and slip out the other exit before the stranger can reach us. We walk fast, too fast down the hallway, turning corners until we’re far from the cafeteria. I press my back against a wall and try to breathe. Jide peeks around the corner. “He’s looking. He’s definitely looking for someone.” Kelechi doesn’t speak for a moment. Then he says something that makes my skin crawl. “He knew you, Zina.” My voice trembles. “How do you know?” “Because when he saw you, his eyes changed. Like he recognized… something.” Jide mutters a quiet curse. We all know what this means. The Watchers. People who track dreamers like me. People who want things they should never touch. People who have been quiet for years, but maybe not anymore. The school bell rings again, snapping us out of the tension. But the fear stays. Especially because the rest of the day feels wrong. Shadows linger where they shouldn’t. Reflections flicker. More than once, I feel someone watching me from a distance. And when school closes and students scatter toward the gate, the dark-coated man is nowhere to be seen. He didn’t leave through the front exit. He didn’t walk past security. He simply… vanished. By the time I get home, the evening sky is orange, and my head is pounding. I drop my bag and collapse onto my bed, replaying everything from the dream, to the man, to the way the school hallways felt like they were breathing. I try to calm down, but the warning won’t leave my mind. Choose the right door… Or lose everything. I close my eyes for just a moment. Just a moment. And instantly, I’m back in the corridor. Same concrete. Same endless darkness. Same three doors waiting for me. But tonight, something’s different. The door with scratches… Is bleeding. A slow, dark liquid oozes from beneath it, tracing lines across the floor like veins. I stumble backward, choking on fear. A figure steps out of the darkness behind me. Not the shadow man. Someone else. Someone wearing the same dark coat as the man from my school. He leans down until his mouth is at my ear. “You’re running out of time, Zina.” I wake up screaming. And then comes the worst part. My bedroom window is open. I never opened it. And on my desk, scratched into my school notebook, are three words I didn’t write: CHOOSE A DOOR.