The Other Side of the Door

Aarav hesitated. The door gaped open like a silent maw, its darkness thicker than the night outside. The whisper had stopped, but the air felt heavier, charged with something unseen.

He knew—this was it. The moment that would change everything.

With a deep breath, he stepped through.

The air shifted immediately. Colder. Denser. His ears rang with silence, his own breath deafening in the void. The door slammed shut behind him.

And then—light.

It wasn't normal light. It bled from the walls, pulsing like a heartbeat. The space wasn't a room, nor a corridor. It felt endless, shifting, like the walls were breathing.

Then he saw them.

Figures.

Lined along the walls, standing in eerie stillness. Faces blurred, like unfinished paintings. But their eyes—pitch black and unblinking—were locked onto him.

Aarav's chest tightened. They were waiting.

He turned to retreat, but the door was gone.

Then, in a voice layered with echoes, they spoke.

"You came. Now remember."

A flood of images crashed into his mind—memories he didn't recognize, yet felt disturbingly familiar. A child screaming. A hand pulling him away. A name erased.

His knees buckled as the truth clawed at him. He had been here before. This wasn't his first time.

The figures stepped forward, reaching for him. Their hands—too long, too thin—stretched out, grasping.

Aarav tried to move, to fight, but the walls closed in.

Then, through the rising panic, a single thought surfaced.

What if… this was home?