The Door of Mystery

A long time ago, when I was 8 years old and my good friend, Kiel Mocker, had just turned 9, we found a mysterious door deep within the forest off the edge of town. The door was standing alone in a large clearing and had the words “do not open,” painted in red across it. It gave me an eerie feeling that I cannot even begin to describe. Kiel was going to open it anyways, but I convinced him not to. However his desire for adventure was too strong and 3 days later, he vanished. I made my way back to the door, hoping that he was only playing around, but he wasn’t. Next to the door I found his favorite keychain laying in the grass. I knew he was gone. Gone through the door.

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“That was 20 years ago, and I haven’t seen him since,” said a man by the name of Ikki Ikkataka, as he held up the keychain sword that once belonged to his friend. Ikki was the town’s storyteller. Every night he would sit out under the stars surrounded by children telling childhood stories. When he told a story, he would have proof like a picture or item.

“Hey, Mr. Ikka. Is there really a door in the forest?” asked a little boy.

“There is, but you mustn’t open it,” Ikki said as he reached into his back pocket. He pulled a picture of Kiel and him pretending to open the door, and handed it to the boy.

“Have you ever wanted to open the door?” questioned another boy.

“I have a million times,” Ikki said as he looked up at the stars. “A million times.”