The doorway doesn’t look like much. It’s just standing alone in a clearing, deep within Algonquin Park. It looks like someone moved their log cabin but forgot the door. Wooden frame, ironworked doorknob, glass window.
Step closer and peer through the murky windowpane. There are trees on the other side, just like here, but with monochromatic boughs, desaturated limbs, rustling menacingly. And there’s YOU, drained of colour, a strange little smile, dark glint in your eye, pantomiming turning a knob. Open the door.
The metal knob writhes in your hand. One more twist to see what this is all about.
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alt="A Consummation by Amelia M. Burton"
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alt="Inheritance by Rohan Mishra"
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alt="Birth Marks by Umi Agawa"
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