The Red Door: Alternative history

CHAPTER 2 A whisper in the House of Shadows

Reflections have supernatural power because they reveal not only the outward appearance, but also the hidden depths of our souls. A mirror is more than glass; it is a portal to the unknown, a silent witness to the darkness that lurks in the folds of our soul. When we gaze into our reflection, we are confronted not only with our physical self, but also with the shadows that lurk in the recesses of our consciousness.

The mirror becomes a receptacle of the invisible, a place where the veil between worlds thins, allowing us to see the entities and forces that dwell beyond the threshold of human understanding.

They are deceptive, revealing an alternate version of ourselves that may be disfigured or grotesque. Deep in the night, when lights flicker and shadows dance, reflections can take on a life of their own, becoming sinister distortions that reflect our deepest fears. They become harbingers of terror, reflecting not only our appearance but also the darkness we are often too afraid to acknowledge.

***

David awoke to the sharp beep of the alarm clock on his phone, abrupt in the silence of the cabin. Even though he had gotten a good night's sleep, the discomfort of the cramped reclining seats made his body tense and tired. He stretched as far as he could, feeling the tension in his neck and back. The cat curled up next to him stirred too, making a low meow as if to signal its awakening. As he drove past, David could see out the car window the deep, inky darkness of night. The only source of light was the soft glow of the streetlights, casting long shadows on the empty street. The air outside seemed still, eerily silent, as if the world itself was holding its breath. David felt a growing restlessness, a reminder that despite the short rest, something was still wrong.

David's restlessness only intensified when he got out of the car, memories of the previous night's horrors still fresh in his mind. The cold night air enveloped him as he approached the house, each step harder than the last. His heart raced with fear that what was haunting him might still be lurking inside, waiting for him to return. David's hands trembled slightly as he unlocked the front door of the house, a cold anxiety gripping him. The previous night had shaken him, and when he stepped inside, he was greeted by a familiar but oppressive silence. The air inside seemed heavier, as if the house itself was holding its breath in anticipation.

The floorboards creaked under his weight as he moved cautiously down the hallway, looking around for any sign of the supernatural. His pulse quickened with each step, but at first glance everything seemed in place-no blood-red door, no ominous glow lurking in the corners of the room. His feet carried him into the hallway, where the door to the pantry was closed and boarded up, just as he had left it the day before. He stared at it for a long time, almost expecting the veins and purple tint to reappear, or worse, the door to swing open by some otherworldly force. He leaned closer to the door, pressing his ear against the wood. Silence. No scratching, no whispering, no howls like those that had haunted him last night. Relief swept over him for a moment, but it wasn't enough to quell the growing feeling of unease creeping up his spine.

Then he turned his attention to the mirrors. The first one was the bathroom mirror-the smaller one, the one that didn't raise any concerns. Gathering his wits, he opened the bathroom door. The mirror was still covered as well. He exhaled, though he didn't realize he was holding his breath. Then headed back out into the hallway again, the ill-fated mirror appeared - the same one that had betrayed him earlier. He stood in front of it, gazing intently, the mirror wrapped in a blanket. He walked over to the small cabinet where he kept his tools and picked up the hammer he had bought the day before. Its weight in his hand inspired confidence, it was sturdy and could be relied upon. He also took the crowbar, its cold steel pressing hard against his fingers. As he looked at the tools, a sense of determination overcame him. They weren't just for carpentry anymore; they were weapons, a last line of defense in case that entity returned.