The mysterious little door

And there were other mysterious and rather scary places in that old house. One of which was upstairs, inside the closet in the master bedroom. Like most children, I enjoyed exploring closets, wardrobes, attics and other places in homes that were normally off limits. In the back wall of the master bedroom closet was a very small door, just big enough that a young child could crawl thru it. It was made of wood, and it had a little black knob. I asked my grandfather about the door one day, and, true to his way, he told me to stay away from it and leave it alone. He would not tell me what was behind it. So I would stand there, staring into the closet, studying that tiny door, trying to imagine what might lie beyond it. Around this time in my life the classic movie the Wizard of Oz would come on TV, usually around Thanksgiving. Once I saw that movie, I thought I had finally figured out what that door concealed. Being that house lifting tornadoes are extremely rare here in Maryland, I surmised that there had to be other ways into the Land of Oz. Opening that door would reveal the munchkin village, a logical entry place as that was where Dorothy and her house landed. But some part of me also knew that I could be wrong about that assumption. What if I opened that door and instead I found myself in the castle of the Wicked Witch? What if a flying monkey grabbed me and pulled me in? On top of all that was my grandfather’s admonition. Not only might I get seized by the witch or her minions, but I’d also be in big trouble! So I stayed my distance, occasionally looking at the door but never touching it. I remember that I also had some nightmares about that door, including some that I vividly recall to this day. In all of them, something horrifying lurked beyond that portal, and once it was opened I was exposed to the most intense utter terror imaginable.

A few years later my grandfather passed away unexpectedly. I was ten years old at the time, and my grandmother decided she did not want to live in that house alone, as my great aunt had already planned a move to a retirement home. So the house was eventually put up for sale about 2 years later. This was a very sad time of my life, a time when my outlook on the world changed for the worse. Little did I know, but this was the beginning, at least for me, of a years long struggle as I entered my teenage years. The house was cleaned out, and I watched so many of my childhood toys get sold at a yard sale in the front driveway. A blissful, idyllic piece of my past was being sold off, not just things but memories, of those innocent times and of my grandfather. One day I took a last walk thru the house, one last time to remember it as it was. I opened the master bedroom closet, and again faced that creepy little door. But this time I was old enough to know there was no strange land existing behind it. As this door was right behind the bathtub on the other side of the wall, I realized that it only concealed access to piping. Therefore I had no need to open it. Then I went into the basement to revisit the black hole and its singularity. This room was far less threatening, as all of the junk had been removed. The shelves that held the home canned goods were sadly empty, and gone was the chest freezer that I had to reach over to sharpen my pencils. I turned on the light, although now I had no trouble reaching the pull cord. Then I walked over to the furnace, but this time I would have to stoop down to grab that chrome handle. Again, I reached for it, but at the last minute, I pulled away. For the longest time I just stood there, staring at that mysterious door. I was old enough to know there was no gateway to hell hidden within, and my grandfather was gone, so I didn’t fear getting in trouble. But fear still stopped me in my tracks. Fear of the unknown can be a daunting thing. Part of the continuation of that fear stemmed from the house I was then living in, the one with the furnace that made lots of scary noises when it ran. This time it was guilt by association. If the furnace in my house was a sinister, evil thing harboring some kind of fire-breathing horror, then this one might be just like it. What scary secrets did it hide behind that door? The slate blue monster never made any noises, at least not that I could recall, but it didn’t have to. The huge black snake that accosted me in my grandfather’s garden didn’t make a sound either. It just reared up in my face and sent me packing. It wasn’t necessarily what it did but what it was…