Caught behind the basement door

There was no wall behind the door. 

Instead, it was another room. 

I froze, my fingers still gripping the door handle. My breath hitched as I took it all in—spacious, larger than the apartment my mother and I lived in, brighter than anything I had ever seen. 

It was beautiful.

I stepped in cautiously, eyes darting around, completely astonished. 

This room screamed wealth.

How was this here? In my grandmother's house?

It had to be—the door to another dimension. Right?

I walked further, my gaze landing on the bed—lavish, elegant, untouched. Then another door caught my eye. 

I turned the knob and pushed it open. 

A closet?

No. It was more than that.

I wandered through the space, touching everything that intrigued me. It felt like… a mini mall.

I stopped in front of a towering shoe rack. Not just any shoe rack—a display, a collection fit for royalty. 

"How can one person own so many shoes?" I murmured, running my fingers over the rows of pristine footwear. 

Dresses sat on mannequins, others folded neatly or hung with deliberate care. I touched the fabric, marveling at the intricate designs. 

"Look at these dresses!"

Excitement bubbled inside me. I had to tell Daniella. She'd never believe me—unless she saw it with her own eyes. 

I turned and rushed toward the door. 

She had to see this. 

I ran upstairs, leaving the basement door wide open behind me.

Bursting into the room, I shook her awake. "Ella!"

She jolted up, startled. 

I grabbed her arm, my eyes wide with excitement. "The door is open! The door to the other dimension! My grandma wasn't crazy—come see for yourself!"

Before she could even process my words, I pulled her out of bed and hurried back down to the basement. 

The door was still open, revealing the exquisite room beyond.

Daniella glanced at me repeatedly, her expression full of shock. I grinned back.

Then, we stepped inside. 

Her gaze darted around, overwhelmed by the sheer luxury of the space. "Hey! We can't just leave this untouched—there are so many valuables here that could change our lives!" she said, walking toward a heavy curtain. 

She pulled it back. 

Light flooded the room. 

I heard her gasp. 

Daylight.

Here?

Impossible.

"Lynette, you have to see this."

I moved toward her and followed her gaze outside. 

My breath caught. "How…?"

It wasn't just the daylight—it was the view. 

We weren't just in a room. We were in a room inside a very tall building.

The ground below was so far down, the sprawling estate surrounding us screamed wealth. 

How could a door in my grandmother's house lead to this?

Daniella turned to me, her excitement barely contained. "Lynette, let's explore the rest of the building!"

"What if someone sees us?"I asked, unsure of the situation. As much as I wanted to explore, the risk gnawed at me.

Daniella didn't hesitate—she grabbed my hand and led me toward another door, one that looked like the entrance to the room.

She pushed it open, and as we stepped out, my breath hitched.

From where we stood, the interior of the building stretched before us in breathtaking grandeur—tall, polished staircases curved elegantly toward upper floors, and **they were glass elevators , gleaming under the soft lights.

I swallowed hard. I had never seen an elevator in someone's home before.

Whoever owned this place wasn't just rich. They were powerful rich.

Daniella let go of my hand and wandered off. 

"This place is massive… We might get lost. Or worse, caught." I whispered, scanning the corridors. 

She waved off my worries. "If anything happens, I'll just run back here. The door's still open."

Then, she strolled ahead, disappearing beyond the staircase. 

I stayed back, wandering in a different direction. 

Taking the elevator would be too risky, but the temptation gnawed at me. 

How I wished I lived in a place like this. If I were a wealthy heir, I wouldn't have to struggle, or worry about bills, or wonder where my next meal would come from. 

Then—"Lynette!"

Daniella's voice rang through the air, urgent. 

I turned just as she came running back toward the room. 

I frowned, about to ask what happened, when I looked ahead— 

And froze. 

A boy, around twelve years old, stood in front of me, earphones in, phone clutched in one hand. 

His eyes widened in shock.

My stomach dropped. 

"Caught."

Without thinking, I spun around and bolted, sprinting back toward the room. 

Daniella burst in right behind me, slamming the door shut as we gasped for air. 

We didn't waste time—we rushed toward the basement door, the one that had led us here. 

But it was closed. 

A flicker of unease turned into frantic relief as we swung it open, expecting to see my grandmother's basement—but our smiles immediately vanished. 

We froze.

Behind the door was an art room.

Not the basement.

We stared, our breath caught, terror creeping into our veins. 

How? How was this possible?

I was certain this was the exact door we had come through. 

But now—it led to something entirely different. 

"But this is the door!"Daniella cried, her hands flying to the knob. She opened and closed it repeatedly, as if expecting it to change back. 

But each time—the art room remained. 

Our way back had vanished. 

I panicked.

"We can't be here… Another dimension? Damn it—this is the afterlife!" Daniella gasped, frantically pulling the door open and slamming it shut over and over, as if sheer desperation could undo whatever had happened.

I stared at her, confused.*"I was only caught by a kid. What do you mean?"

Her hands trembled as she clutched the doorknob. "This is the place of the dead—shit. I know I hated my life, but that doesn't mean I want to die now!"

Tears streamed down her cheeks.She kept opening and closing the door as if it would suddenly lead back to the basement. But nothing changed.

I still didn't understand.

How could this be the afterlife?

Then—she stopped. 

Her grip loosened, her body sinking to the floor. Her eyes were glazed over, distant. 

"I saw your mother." 

The words felt like a punch to my stomach. 

"What? What do you—" My voice faded, my mind racing to process what she had just said. 

Then—we both froze. 

The handle of the door twisted. 

Someone was about to come in. 

How were we supposed to explain ourselves?