Chapter 4: The Door That Shouldn't Open
The cold air grew heavier as the trio stepped deeper into the hallway. Lerato walked ahead, flashlight in hand, her fingers trembling slightly but her grip firm. Thabo followed closely, glancing nervously over his shoulder every few seconds, while Simo dragged his feet, clearly shaken but unwilling to be left alone.
The door at the end of the corridor stood ominously still, its surface cracked, covered in dust and strange handprints. It hadn't been visible from the outside of the house, as if it only existed within the house's strange rules.
I don't like this, Thabo whispered, his voice almost swallowed by the air itself. This door… it feels wrong.
Lerato didn't answer immediately. Her eyes were locked on the rusted doorknob, which looked like it had been untouched for decades. But the fresh fingerprints small and childlike told a different story.
Guys,she said, voice low, this might be what the whispers were warning us about.
Simo spoke for the first time since entering the hallway. Then why are we even going near it? Why not leave now? We saw enough.
But Lerato shook her head. If we leave now, the house wins. We'll never know what happened to those kids. The screams we heard last night? They came from behind this door.
They stood in silence for a few moments, each battling their own fear. Then Lerato reached out.
Don't, Thabo said quickly, stepping forward. What if something's waiting behind it?
She looked back at him. I'm not opening it all the way. Just a peek.
Lerato turned the knob slowly, and with a soft creak, the door opened just enough for her to shine her light through the gap. What she saw made her recoil instantly.
Behind the door was a long, narrow staircase descending into pitch blackness. The air that wafted up from it was damp, moldy, and smelled like earth and rot.
There's a basement, she whispered.
Thabo swore under his breath. Of course there's a creepy basement. Always is.
Simo leaned in, peering through the gap. Wait… do you hear that?
They all paused.
A faint sound like a lullaby being hummed by a child drifted up the stairs. The tune was haunting, slightly off-key, and far too calm for such a terrifying place.
Nope. Nope. Nope, Thabo said, stepping back. We are not going down there.
But Lerato was already pulling the door open wider. We've come this far.
Simo looked torn. I want to leave... but I also want answers.
Thabo groaned. Why did I agree to come with you two again?
The stairs groaned beneath their feet as they descended, Lerato in front, Thabo reluctantly in the middle, and Simo bringing up the rear. With each step, the light seemed to dim around them, and the temperature dropped noticeably.
At the bottom, they found themselves in a large, damp basement. Old toys lay scattered across the floor broken dolls, marbles, and tiny shoes, all coated in dust. In the center of the room was an old wooden crib.
Lerato's flashlight flickered.
Lerato,Thabo whispered, panic rising in his voice, your light
I know,she said quickly, smacking the flashlight to keep it steady.
Then a low creaking sound echoed from the far corner of the room.
All three turned.
There was another door.
This one wasn't wooden it was metal, bolted, with strange markings etched into its surface.
Lerato approached slowly. This wasn't in the blueprint of the house.
Blueprint? Thabo blinked. You found blueprints?
Online. The house was built in 1942. This basement wasn't supposed to be here.
Suddenly, the humming stopped.
Silence.
Then a bang on the metal door.
They all jumped back.
Another bang.
This time louder.
Then, a whisper not in their ears, but in their minds.
"Let me out."
Lerato dropped the flashlight. It clattered to the ground, spinning. The brief moment of darkness was enough to send Thabo screaming and Simo gripping Lerato's arm tightly.
Lerato swallowed hard and picked up the light again.
The door was now slightly open.
A cold wind blew through it, though no wind should've existed underground.
They heard soft footsteps.
Then… a giggle.
High-pitched. Childlike. Echoing from all around them.
Run,Simo said, his voice trembling.
But before they could move, the door flew open.
Out stepped a little girl.
She looked about six years old, in a tattered white dress, barefoot, her hair covering her face. Her arms hung unnaturally by her sides.
Lerato couldn't move.
The girl lifted her head.
Her eyes were black.
Pure black.
Thank you for opening the door, she whispered.
Then she vanished.
No wind. No flash. She was just gone.
Lerato backed away. We need to go. Now.
They raced up the stairs, through the hallway, back into the main room of the house. But the front door was gone.
Replaced by a wall.
No, no, no! Thabo cried, slamming his fists against it.
The house is changing, Simo said, his voice breaking.
Lerato turned, her mind racing. It's punishing us.
For what? Thabo shouted.
For freeing her.
Suddenly, every window shattered at once.
The house groaned, as if alive.
And from every shadow… whispers.
Not just one voice. Dozens.
Some crying. Some laughing. Some screaming.
Then a familiar voice soft, childlike spoke in Lerato's ear.
"You opened the door. Now we're free."
She turned.
Nothing there.
But on the wall, written in red maybe paint, maybe something else was one sentence:
The house remembers.