Don’t Open the Door
695 Words
The doorknob turned.
Slowly.
Click…
Amara’s heart pounded so hard she thought it would burst from her chest.
Outside, her mother’s voice trembled.
“Amara… please.”
“I’m scared.”
“Open the door.”
Every instinct told her to run.
Every memory of home made her want to unlock it.
But then she remembered the taxi driver’s warning.
“If you hear knocking at your door after midnight… don’t answer it.”
She took one shaky step backward.
“No…”
The knocking stopped.
Silence swallowed the room.
For several seconds, nothing happened.
Then…
A loud scrape echoed across the wooden door.
Something was dragging its nails down it.
Screeeeeech…
Amara covered her mouth to stop herself from screaming.
The scratching continued.
Long.
Slow.
Patient.
It sounded as if whatever was outside had all the time in the world.
Then the voice changed.
No longer her mother’s.
Now it sounded like a young man crying.
“Please…”
“They locked me out.”
“I don’t want to disappear.”
The crying turned into laughter.
A deep, twisted laugh that no human could make.
Lily suddenly rolled over in bed.
Without opening her eyes, she whispered,
“Don’t listen to it…”
Amara stared at her.
“Lily?”
Her roommate didn’t respond.
She was still asleep.
⸻
The digital clock read 3:21 A.M.
The scratching finally stopped.
Amara waited.
One minute.
Two minutes.
Five.
Nothing.
At exactly 3:33 A.M.
The hallway lights flickered back on.
The oppressive feeling vanished.
Only then did Lily sit up suddenly, breathing heavily.
“You heard it, didn’t you?” she asked.
Amara nodded.
“You knew?”
Lily looked terrified.
“Every freshman hears the knocking once.”
“What happens if someone opens the door?”
Lily lowered her eyes.
“They’re never seen again.”
⸻
The next morning, students crowded the dining hall as if nothing unusual had happened.
Some laughed.
Others complained about assignments they hadn’t even received yet.
Amara felt like she was the only person carrying the weight of the previous night.
Then she noticed an empty chair at a nearby table.
A backpack rested beside it.
The food on the tray was still warm.
“Whose seat is that?” she asked.
The students looked confused.
“What seat?”
“The one right there.”
“There isn’t anyone sitting there.”
Amara’s stomach twisted.
Again.
Someone was missing.
And again…
No one remembered.
⸻
After breakfast, Amara decided to visit the university library.
If the truth existed anywhere, it had to be there.
The library was enormous.
Dusty shelves stretched endlessly beneath stained-glass windows.
An elderly librarian greeted her with a polite smile.
“Can I help you?”
“I’m looking for information about Dormitory Thirteen.”
The librarian’s smile disappeared.
“I think you’ve mistaken the name.”
“There has never been a Dormitory Thirteen.”
“But—”
“There has never been a Dormitory Thirteen.”
His voice was firmer this time.
He turned away.
The conversation was over.
As Amara walked toward the history section, something caught her eye.
On the highest shelf sat an old leather-bound yearbook.
Its spine read:
Ashcroft University – Class of 1998
She climbed a small ladder and carefully pulled it down.
As she flipped through the pages, she froze.
One photograph showed dozens of smiling students.
In the center stood a girl wearing a silver bracelet engraved with the initials…
E.M.
The same bracelet Amara had found beneath the chair in the auditorium.
Beneath the photo was the girl’s name.
Emily Moore
But as Amara watched…
The ink began to fade.
Letter by letter.
Until the name disappeared completely.
The smiling girl’s face blurred…
Then vanished from the photograph as if she had never existed.
The page was now empty.
A cold breath brushed against Amara’s ear.
A whisper came from directly behind her.
“You’re remembering too much.”
She spun around.
No one was there.
When she turned back to the yearbook…
Every student in the photograph was staring directly at her.
And Emily…
Had returned.
This time…
She was smiling.
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