Closed Doors

Closed Doors

At the very end of the hall, past miles of panelled-wood walls and shaggy carpeting, stood a narrow door. It looked unassuming enough; a little rusty at the hinges, a few chips in the varnish, but nothing sinister. The only thing that appeared slightly off was the semicircle of discolouring in the carpet in front of it. Darker than the fading red of the rest of the hallway, it emanated a strange smell and a general feeling of discomfort. Jeremy had never thought about it that much before, though.

One of the first rules of the new house had been "don't open that door". As all kids do, he had often felt the tug of temptation in his heart, but he was a well-behaved child and never disobeyed his parents... at least, not when they used their serious voices. When Anna was born, things changed; she had a more curious streak than he did, and questioned everything purely for the sake of it. Someone like her would never accept "because I said so" as a reason not to explore every inch of the house.

Before she grew up – when she was still little enough to be scooped into the arm by either Jeremy or a parent every time she ventured off-course – it wasn't really a problem. She whined a bit and got on their nerves, but everyone could keep an eye on her so no rules were broken, and nobody got angry. Except Jeremy, who grew increasingly frustrated with Anna for making him think about that door again.

It seemed ever-inquisitive Anna had grown tired of the door's mystery as she matured, until one day when Jeremy was left to babysit her. He was seventeen and she was twelve, and their parents had finally decided not to hire someone to watch them because honestly, Jeremy was old enough and they hadn't meddled with that door in years. Their car had only just pulled out of the drive when Anna turned to Jeremy with a manic grin and asked if he was up for an adventure.

"It'll be boring, you know," he had told her. "They'll have sealed it off because of mould, like Dad said, and you'll be all disappointed."

He had felt rather smug when he said it. He definitely didn't feel smug for long.

Something about the hallway was just unsettling, somehow. It put a chill down their spines and a quiver in their breath, and neither could protest as they gradually moved closer together. Even the floorboards under the carpet seemed to be creaking a warning to them. Anna took no notice however, and Jeremy was not about to be outshone by his little sister. They halted before the discoloured carpet, hesitating.

"Do you..." Anna peered up at him nervously. "Do you think they really just spilt a pot of paint and couldn't get it all out?"

Despite not feeling so at all, Jeremy replied in a strong, brave tone, "Of course they did. Told you it won't be cool."

They both laughed half-heartedly, then turned back to the door. Jeremy was about to ask if she had a plan to open it when a soft jingling sound alerted him to the keys she was slipping from her pocket. After a moment's thought (and a brief attempt to simply lean over), Anna tiptoed round the edge of the patch on the floor. Jeremy followed in quiet relief. Everything in him told him this was a terrible idea – they had both spent their whole lives being told never to enter this room, after all, even being this close was practically family treason – but when he saw Anna's shaky hand miss the lock again, he gently guided the key in and turned it.

Click.

They shared a soft moment of consideration, sealed with a tentative nod. Together, they pushed the door open, completely unaware of what would be inside.

Paintings. Paintings upon paintings upon paintings. Some of women, some of men, all of them very... inappropriate. There were a wide range of locations and situations, and a large of variety in the people's appearances. Instinctively, Jeremy covered Anna's eyes, but the damage was already done. They stepped back awkwardly, Jeremy gently shutting the door before either of them could see any more - as if they hadn't already seen enough. He locked the door dutifully, then chanced a glance at his sister.

"Are...?" He shifted uncomfortably. "Are you...?"

"Let's never speak of this again," Anna said firmly.

Jeremy certainly wasn't going to argue.