A door appears. A key insists. Some things are not meant to be opened.
***
Susan stood in her Rosewood Apartments unit, for once not packing her bags to rush off to the next. The unit she had agreed to rent was too perfect for her needs. The wallpaper peeled like years of flaky skin; the tap choked on its water. But it fit, an
Unpacking the boxes that she had brought in a few days before created a mental fog. The first night in her bedroom was more than celebratory. She got into bed and read for a while before putting out the light. But the silence gave weight to her blanket,and to her.
A forbidding door appeared in Sulin’s mind, a sudden obstacle. Not hers to open. She stood before it, twisting a key in her hand. The temptation to open it disturbed her peace. Foreboding lingered the next morning, but she brushed it aside. She had just moved into this block of unkempt apartments after a difficult breakup, and under the circumstances, her nerves frayed. Her one nightmare carried more weight.
Clear, rhythmic taps punctured the hollow walls soon after she moved in. Shadows flashed in the periphery of her vision, always too quick to decipher. Dreams of the door, enlarging, intruded every night. Jarring as they were, she merely shooed them off.
“Just stress,” she convinced herself, her level-headed nature kicking in. “Unknown area, new lease on life. It’s all in my head.” She shook herself.
The sounds were a persistent drumbeat.
That lease soon expired, and the knocking grew louder. It actually grew so persistent that she left her apartment and wandered the dimly lit hallway, looking desperately for its source. She found only silence. The knocking resumed, however, as soon as she returned.
The door in her dream was different that night. It was closer to her now, with cracked wood, as if it had aged 100 years in a day.
Then, dark figures at the foot of her bed.
She woke with a start, her heartbeat erratic.
Su Lin rose, feeling puzzled. She couldn’t ignore the strangeness of her dream. The key offered no answers when she turned it about, examining it with her hands. Restless curiosity drove her to knock on the door of one of the apartment block’s long-term residents, Mrs Wong.
“it’s that key,” Mrs.Wong murmured after some thought.”Please thro
Su Lin looked at her, stunned. “Why? What does it open?”
Mrs. Wong’s face developed a serious expression. “I have seen this happening to others. A tenant who lived in your apartment years ago had the key. She claimed it opened a door to one room in the building, but never said which one. She became obsessed with it, going door to door to open each apartment. Then she disappeared mysteriously. No one has seen her since.”
Su Lin felt a chill run ominously down her spine. “Do you know which door it is?”
Mrs. Wong shook her head slowly, then looked at Su Lin. “No one does. But there are apartments in this building. No one opens them anymore.”
Su Lin left, her mind racing. The sound of the knocking grew louder and more insistent that night. And the dreams returned, scarier, more vivid than ever. In the most recent one, the door finally loomed before her, drawing to open it with magnetism she couldn’t resist. Her hand trembled, and she held her breath as she turned the key. The door creaked open ever so slowly, revealing darkness.
Su Lin woke with a start. Though she knew she had only dreamed it, she couldn’t shake the feeling that the door was real, and in the building. Driven by desperation, she began searching it and knocking on each. Nothing stood out. Until she reached the basement. The air there was dense, clogged with dust and dampness.
In the far corner, concealed behind stacks of forgotten furniture, she finally found it. The door. It was in ruins, and cracked, exactly as it had been in her dream. Her pulse raced madly as she pulled out the key.
Her heart thumped wildly as she held the doorknob. With a low groan, it opened slowly, revealing a narrow, unlit corridor. As she stepped through, the air grew chilly, and her skin prickled with discomfort. Eerie images seemed to dance along the walls. Su Lin called out, her voice quaking, but only silence greeted her.
As she moved forward, she felt the oppressive weight of the darkness on her shoulders. And then she saw it. A shrouded figure looming at the end of the corridor. Her breath caught in her throat as it slowly turned toward her, revealing hollow eyes that seemed to see through her.
Suddenly, the figure spoke her name. Su Lin backed away, her heart pounding in her chest, but the corridor seemed to stretch boundlessly behind her. The figure stepped closer, its presence cloying. Frightening.Panic surged through her, and she turned to flee. But before she could move, it slammed shut with a deafening thud. The knocking returned, louder than ever, now coming from behind the door she had just unlocked.
Mrs. Wong knocked on Su Lin’s door the next morning. When no one answered, she frowned and peered inside through the cracked doorframe. The apartment was frightening, still. The brass key lay on the floor, cold and untouched.
Su Lin? Unseen.
**
Original story by Michelle Liew Tsui-Lin. AI tags are coincidental.
What listens when no one speaks?
What follows when no one is there?
Mirrors of the Mind is a collection of five psychological horror stories exploring memory, identity, and the quiet things we try not to see.
I’ve always been drawn to stories that linger rather than shock — ones that stay with you after the page is turned. This collection is my attempt at that kind of quiet unease.
If that resonates, you can find it here:
