Mary leaned on the sill of an open window, staring off into a world obscured by fog, a world that looked twisted and ominous, nothing like the neighborhood she knew. Not a single house could be seen, and if the sun was shining, there must have been thick clouds blocking it, since she couldn't even tell what the sky looked like, the fog hung so low and thick, like plumes of unearthly smoke. The letter in her hands was old, the ink somewhat faded on the rushed scribbling, and the texture still felt a little grainy after she had smacked and shaken all the dust off. But still, she held the letter, tension in her shoulders and arms as she stared, trying to pick out something identifiable outside the window. She looked down at the letter in her hands again, her eyes starting to warm and wet again as her heart beat a little faster.
Mary. That was her name. Mary Road. The letter had her name. But she had never seen it before, had never been in that room before. In truth, Mary did not know where she was. She just knew she wasn't home. And she had no idea how she got there, though she wondered what would happen if she walked through that door behind her. Mary glanced over her shoulder, her ponytail swaying with the movement. She should try going back through that door. Maybe she would be able to go back home, maybe this weird place would disappear. After all, it was that door that she'd entered before. Maybe going back through would fix everything. But her blue eyes fell back to the letter in her hands. Mary Road. To Mary Road. That was her. How?
To my dearest Mary Road. I have no idea what's happened. But I'm not home right now. I'm going to try and find my way back. So please, don't give up on me. I am coming home. I promise. And when I do, we'll talk about everything and anything. And if I see you before then, follow my instructions. I love you. -Dad.
Mary's eyes went hot again as water started to seep free and wet her eyelashes. It had been ten years. Ten years since she'd seen her father. Her father who had died in a car accident. This letter; it was addressed to her! Sitting on a small table, half pushed beneath an old, dusty lamp with a crack in it which split the pink-painted flower it bore. Mary took a deep breath and turned to look at the room. Not much was in it, just an old bed for a little girl, its once white paint chipping away with dusty, dirty bedding that was in disarray with a large, mysterious black stain in its middle. A bedside table, also once painted white was offset from the bed where the lamp sat, and where the letter had been. There was a desk to her left too, also filthy, and some heavily damaged wall hangings. It looked strikingly like her old room, one she'd had when she was around twelve. But, there were a lot of things missing, as if the room had been left abandoned to time and been pillaged somewhere along the way.
Mary looked toward the door and walked forward, but stopped before reaching out to grab the handle. Would it take her back? She glanced down at the paper still clutched in her left hand. Her heart ached as she blinked her eyes a moment to fight back the tears. She remembered so clearly, how deep the cut went when her father died. How no one would talk about it, not even her mother. Not then, and not now. Mary had not attended the funeral, she wasn't entirely sure there had been a proper one. He had deserved better. Mary could never understand her mother's callousness toward her husband, the father of her only child. Mary glanced at the door, her heart beating faster. Should she open it? But then, she glanced back at the open window.
The letter, its hastily scrawled words. She looked at the table where the paper had been and her eyes caught on something on the floor, amidst all the dust and dead leaves that scattered the dirty carpet, but seemed to have amassed beneath the bed frame. Walking over she knelt down and hesitantly reached her fingers beneath the side of the bed. It wasn't dark, she could see it, though there were a lot of spider webs, and her fingers tingled, twitching at the thought of touching something scary or gross. But, it looked like something of note. Half folded, but sticking up, it was a piece of paper, half covered in the dead leaves, she was sure of it. Mary touched it and gasped, it was indeed paper! It could be useless junk, but there wasn't much in the room, not even a book, a notepad, nothing aside from old dried-out glitter gel pens and random junk in the desk drawer. Mary grabbed the paper, grimacing when she touched some sticky spider web, before she straightened up, and looked at the paper. It was also quite dusty, and very dirty from having been under the leaves and perhaps wet at some point. But, despite some of the ink smearing, as she unfolded it, it was legible enough.
Mary. Don't open your door. Stay away from this door. Please, I know how this sounds, but there's something wrong with it! Don't open it! -Dad.
And below that, in the far more marred section of the paper she read a series of notations.
Papers won't pass beneath door. Door won't open, no matter what. Need a key
Room is pristine, exactly like Mary's.
Window opens, but there's no sign of the neighbors, or anything other than fog.
I hear only the sound of wind in the trees and perhaps some animals
When it gets dark, it's very dark, and the lamp won't work
No Power
Horrible noises outside
M***t*rs **ts*d*.
Heart slamming in her chest, Mary jumped to her feet, wide eyes turning toward the door as she raced over toward it and grabbed the doorknob and twisted, but it stopped short. Examining the handle for the lock, Mary noticed that a large keyhole with an intricate design pressed into its face. Which was a feature that her bedroom had never had. Panic set in and she tried to turn the knob again, but it would not budge, even when yanking to twist it. Mary dropped the papers in her hand and grabbed the handle with both hands, panic slamming into her chest as she twisted with all her might and then yanked repeatedly, but the door remained firmly in place; where only the doorknob rattled. Stepping back, fear swelled up in Mary's chest as she brushed some of her brown hair from her eyes as it escaped her ponytail before she looked back toward the window. Hugging herself with her hands, Mary felt her knees shake a little.
She couldn't go back through the door.
What was she to do now? Mary fidgeted in place, looking around her into every corner of the room, a cold sweat starting to break out across her back, sticking her white and pale blue striped T-shirt to her lithe body. She glanced down at the papers nearby her feet and picked them up again, her hands almost shaking as she looked them over to realize that there was writing on a portion of the back of the paper she'd found under the bed.
Mary. The thought of you being here horrifies me. But, if somehow you do, I'm going to help you. I promise. I can't stay in your room any longer. It's been days, and I need to do something. I'm going to try and find my way home. I found in your desk those glow-in-the-dark stars you love so much, so look for those. It'll be just like Hansel and Gretel. Keep your eyes out at all times, like when crossing the street. And if you hear anything scary, avoid it and hide until it's quiet. And at night, hide somewhere small and stay there until the sun comes back up. It'll still be foggy, but the scary noises should be gone by then. I know it will be scary, even hard, but I promise, you will be okay. I love you so much.
Mary sank onto the bed, no longer caring for its mysterious stain and perhaps bug-infested state as water seeped from her eyes and down her cheeks. Was this really true? Was she in some nightmare? But, it seemed so much like something she could read from her deceased father. Was he not dead then? Was he there? Trapped in this foggy world? Mary glanced at the door, feeling a blubber wanting to break free from her. The door wouldn't open anyway. What was she to do? Wait there? It sounded like he had tried to do the same. And then her breath hitched. What if this were some trick? But, no, it couldn't be. Not in this bizarre, unreal setting. It sounded like her father had maybe walked through her door and ended up exactly where she was, exactly as she had just done.
Mary had just gotten home from college and wanted to change into her pajamas. That was all. And yet, here she was. In a T-shirt and shorts, just as she had been at school. And now, now she was nowhere she had ever been, and Mary was starting to believe, nowhere on planet Earth. Like from a supernatural horror movie, or a video game. But, what was she to do? She couldn't quit or turn it off. She was trapped, and with the two letters in her hand, there was really only one thing she could do. Mary collected herself, evening her breath and calming the building sobs that wanted to take over as she tempered her fear and looked toward the door. The door was locked. And her father was out there. An unexpected resolve pushed to the surface and steeled Mary's heart, though that could not stop its quivering in fear. Her dad was out there. Though, it'd been ten years. But, if by some small chance, he was still alive, then she had to find him! And maybe together they could find a way home. Mary glanced toward the window again, heart jumping a little at the thought. She would have to venture out into the fog. Into a world unknown, and hope for a path to safety. And hopefully, to her father.