The Other Side

Ethan hit the ground hard.

For a moment, he lay there, gasping, his body aching from the impact. His head spun, his vision blurred. The last thing he remembered was the blinding light swallowing him whole, yanking him from the cavern of whispers.

Am I… dead?

He forced himself onto his hands and knees. The air was different here—lighter, cleaner. There were no voices. No shadows stretching toward him.

Slowly, he looked up.

And what he saw made his blood run cold.

He wasn't back in the town.

He wasn't even sure he was in the real world.

Ethan stood in the middle of Whispering Pines.

Or at least, a version of it.

Everything looked the same—the cobblestone streets, the old wooden houses, the gas lamps flickering in the misty dawn. But something was wrong.

The buildings were too perfect. Their paint was unweathered, their windows gleamed without a speck of dust. No cracks in the pavement. No rust on the lampposts. It was as if the entire town had been rebuilt—or worse, had never been touched by time at all.

And then there was the silence.

No wind. No birds. No distant hum of life.

It was empty.

Ethan's stomach churned. He turned in a slow circle, searching for anything familiar. Something real.

Then—he saw her.

A figure standing at the edge of the street.

The one with the pale hair and dark eyes. The one who had disappeared like mist that night in the clearing.

She was watching him.

And this time, she didn't vanish.

"You Took the Door."

Ethan took a hesitant step forward.

"You," he breathed. "Who are you?"

The girl's gaze didn't waver.

"You took the door," she said softly.

Her voice sent a shiver through him—not because it was eerie, but because it sounded almost relieved.

"What—what does that mean?" Ethan demanded. "Where am I? What is this place?"

The girl tilted her head. "A reflection."

Ethan's fists clenched. "That's not an answer."

She took a slow step toward him. "This town—" she gestured to the buildings, the silent streets—"is the other side of the mirror. A place that exists, but doesn't. A version of what was."

His breath caught.

"You mean… I'm not home?"

The girl shook her head.

"No," she said. "You're in between."

Ethan swallowed hard. His pulse thundered in his ears.

"The town," he said slowly. "The real one. Whispering Pines. What is it?"

The girl's expression darkened.

"It's a doorway," she murmured. "A bridge between what's real and what's forgotten."

Ethan's mind raced. It made sense—too much sense. The strange occurrences, the watching eyes, the whispers that seemed to creep from the very walls of the town.

It wasn't just a quiet little place with an eerie past.

It was a threshold.

Something flickered behind the girl's eyes—something like recognition.

"You came looking for answers," she said. "But the truth doesn't just exist on one side."

Ethan's breath hitched.

"You mean… the thing in the cavern?" he whispered. "The shadow?"

A pause.

Then she nodded.

"Yes."

His stomach twisted.

"I don't understand," he admitted. "What is it? What does it want?"

The girl hesitated—just for a second.

Then she said, "It wants to go home."

Ethan's blood ran cold.

Home.

The real world.

The world he had come from.

His voice shook when he asked, "And if it gets out?"

The girl's expression was unreadable.

"Then nothing will ever be real again."

A cold wind rushed through the street, cutting through Ethan's jacket.

This place—the mirror town—felt both ancient and new, like something unfinished. And now, he had a choice to make.

If he left, if he found a way back—would he be bringing something with him?

The girl watched him closely.

"You can't stay here forever," she said. "And neither can it."

Ethan exhaled shakily.

"So what do I do?"

She didn't answer.

Instead, she pointed.

Ethan followed her gaze—and his heart stopped.

At the far end of the street, standing in the mist, was a second door.

Just like the one he had stepped through.

Its frame was cracked. Its surface glowed.

And from the other side of it—

Something was knocking.

Who—or What—Is Trying to Get Through?

Ethan's stomach twisted.

The knocking was slow, deliberate.

A steady thud. Thud. Thud.

He knew—without a doubt—that whatever was on the other side of that door…

Wasn't him.

And yet—it sounded like him.

Because with each knock, a voice followed.

Muffled. Distant.

"Let me in."

The girl's eyes darkened.

"You don't have much time," she murmured. "The longer that door stays closed, the weaker the barrier gets."

Ethan's breath came fast and shallow.

"If I open it," he said. "What happens?"

The girl didn't blink.

"That depends," she said.

"On what?"

She stepped closer.

"On which one of you is real."

Ethan's pulse spiked.

He turned back toward the door.

The knocking grew louder.

And for the first time, he realized something terrifying.

The voice behind the door—

Didn't just sound like him.

It sounded like every version of him that had ever existed.

The child.

The teenager.

The man.

All of them.

And they were all whispering the same thing—

"Open the door, Ethan."

His hands trembled.

His mind screamed at him not to do it.

But the problem was…

Somewhere deep inside—

A part of him wanted to.