Baby Blue Doors by Richard
But she said it would be open.
I sit in front of the closed door, not knowing what I should do. It is plain and wooden with peeling baby blue paint. There are no peepholes, no knockers —just a silver doorknob jutting out from the cracked surface. The frame matches the door’s colours: a peeling baby blue. Beyond the frame, there is no wall, and no visible space the door exits into. It is just the door and the frame, sitting in the middle of nowhere. I try the door again. It is bolted shut. A child screams from the other side.
But she said it would be open.
Scribbles & Gibberish 