Behind Closed Doors

There is a road that no one drives down. At the end of the road there is a house that no one lives in. In the house there is hallway that’s always cold with floorboards that creak and moan. And on this hallway there is a door at the end of the hall to the right that will never be opened for fear of releasing what’s inside.

There is not a monster in the room. You will not feel fear before being eaten alive. There is not a wild animal in the room. You will not be mauled and pulled apart piece by piece. There is not an insane man in the room. You will not be murdered and buried in the backyard with dead grass and overgrown vines.

In the room that will never be opened there is a little girl with cold, callous eyes curled up in a ball in the corner. While she might seem unassuming, she is more dangerous than the monster that will eat you alive, more dangerous than the wild animal that will maul you, and more dangerous than the man that will murder you and bury in you in the backyard with the dead grass and over grown vines. For one glance from the little girl with cold callous eyes will leave you dead on the floor.

So, if you find yourself at the end of the street that no one drives down, in the house that no one lives in, on the hall that’s always cold who’s floor boards creak and moan, in front of the locked door at the end to the right: do not open the door.