Ever since I was a kid, I have been terrified of the closet, it’s darkness shrouding whatever secrets it holds; but really more menacing is the fact someone has been talking to me through the door. The voice being a mere whisper, the sound slowly fluttering into my ear, almost as if there was nothing at all; the only time it was quiet enough for me to hear it was at night. I usually would be tucked into bed, falling deep into my slumber when the faint sound of mumbling would erupt around me, the moon shining through the seeps of my blinds as my eyes would spring to life looking around the room. Haunting shadows dancing around my peripheral, urging me to stay in bed, to say the less I was a bit frighten.
The first encounter was bewildering for my innocent brain, I didn’t know what to think of it other than I was hearing things; though being a child of 7 years old my imagination burst to life. After shifting around endlessly in bed; trying to fall back to sleep the voice got a little louder, forcing me to finally give in to it’s will. I crept out of bed looking for the source of noise, the dimly lit room revealing nothing other than darken silhouette’s staring at me as I aimlessly walked around. I fell to my knee’s and looked underneath the bed, only a void could be seen and for a moment I visualized an arm grabbing me, pulling me in. That’s when I had finally detected it, my head turning from side to side, listening with such intent; I turned my body to the edges of my room — the voice was calling to me from the closet. Still on the floor I cautiously crawled over, my knees brushing up against legos scattered around, my breathing heavier than the earth itself. I sat in front of my closet for a few seconds staring up at the door, a monolith it was at my age. The voice filtering through the wooden door as I contemplated of what to think, my first thoughts were of wonderment; remembering the story of children escaping to Narnia through their wardrobe. The idea of having such an adventure as my parents slept enticed me and I pressed my ear up against the door trying to figure out what the voice was saying.
“muffled gibberish”.
I still couldn’t figure out what they were saying, I was too small to fully comprehend such words but in the moment I could of sworn whoever was talking was speaking another language.
“Hello?” I whimpered through the door, looking behind making sure my parents weren’t awake.
To my astonishment the voice promptly stopped, silence encapsulating my small room, I think whoever was on the other side heard me.
“Si me eschuchas? Ayudar me, Ayudar me!” the person said; the tone sounding like a man, his words unknown to me.
I stood to my feet and curiously placed my hand on the door knob, the thought of entering a wonderland of magic swirled around my mind when the voice once again spoke, this time more with a frantic tonality,
“Si, abrir la puerta…open the door”.
He was asking for me to open the door, he wanted to be let in. I began to turn the knob slowly, not sure what to expect other than the wonderful world of Narnia on the other side. The door clicked open with such a vibration; once fully turning the knob and I carelessly opened it. The door creaking open as pure darkness flooded into my already dark room, the void darker than anything I had seen before. The emptiness swirling around me left me feeling as if I was drifting away in space, fear grasping at my small mind and I felt tears slipping down my face.
“Where am I” I childishly cried out.
No response was given, no sounds could be heard, I was no longer in my room but in a vacuum of desolation. My mind began to slip away as all things became blurry and I felt my body grow numb; I could only imagine at that age that this is how it felt like to die. Eventually all things seized to exist and I fully blacked out given into whatever this force was.
I awoke the next morning on the floor, my body half way in the closet, my father calling out to me asking what I was doing. I sat up dazed to where I was, my brain taking several seconds to register I was back in my room, as the sun blared in through the blinds. I looked up at my dad, he displayed a befuddled gaze; perturbed that I wasn’t in my bed. I didn’t know what to tell him other than I had a weird dream of someone talking to me through the closet door. My father laughed and told me it was just my imagination, that no one lives in the closet, I turned back to look inside the mystifying closet as his words simmered in my ears; of course no one lives there — that would be impossible.
That was my first experience with the closet, I didn’t hear any more voices for the next few months, feeling as it was all just a dream — one that I hoped never to have again. Though, as the weeks passed I noticed a slight change in my fathers words, his speech patterns slightly altered; just enough for me to catch it. It almost sounded like he had an accent, his words at times muffled, as if he wasn’t talking in his native tongue, my mother didn’t seem to notice so I figured it was just me. I never mentioned it to anyone, not to my friends or family and especially not to my father. Instead I beavered away in my room each day not wanting to leave or play outside, I would just sit in front of the closet with it’s door closed; talking to it asking for it to bring back my dad; the one I had before the dream.
After several months I had gotten my wish, like the time prior it happened in the middle of the night, when my mind was shifting between our world and the dream one, the shadows that would dance around in my peripheral all too eager seeing me enter their realm of existence and that’s when the whispering started; my eyes shooting open. The person living in my closet was back and I quickly jumped out of bed, walking to the door.
“Hello? Is my dad in there?” I asked the void that existed on the other side.
Like before, the incoherent mumbling stopped, a raspy voice much different from the time before called out to me,
“Open the door”.
I stood bewildered not sure what this meant, it didn’t sound like my father nor did it sound like the person from before, that’s when a vague sound started coming from the door. It took me several minutes to understand what the noise was, it familiar; it was the dire sounds of scratching, like the ones my cat would make whenever it scratched at it’s pole. Whoever this was on the other side was scratching at my door, asking to be let in.
“Open the door”, it once again called out with it’s withered voice.
“Where’s my dad?” I asked it, but I was never given a response; I only knew that opening the door was the one way I could ever find my father.
My heart began beating through my chest, the rhythmic thumping sound filling my room, I gripped the door knob tightly like before and a sudden wave of energy flowed into my body. I felt defeated as if there was no other choice than opening the door and I turned slowly feeling the vibration as before pulsate my small arm. The darkness crashing into my room, slithering up the walls like a slug from the depths of hell and soon my mind was lost once again out into space, all things becoming void. I remained crying hoping that somehow I would collide into my dad, reunite with his strong presence and like before I blacked out falling to this realm of emptiness.
I awoke on the floor, my body once again half way in the closet, a voice that sounded much like my father — my father from before — called out to me and I jovially arose to my feet to see the man I loved so much was back. His voice sounded the way it was suppose to, I believed it to be my real father and I ran to him hugging him tightly. He was confounded, he couldn’t understand why I was acting the way I was but hugged me back, asking me why I was sleeping on the floor. I didn’t have a good answer for him, I was too young to manifest a response that would of given him clarity, so instead I told him that I must of fallen off the bed. I felt his stare linger as his curiosity morphed into concern, but luckily he had left it at that and we went down for breakfast.
Going down the stairs I noticed right away that something was different, the furniture looked off; but only slightly. My cat’s scratching pole wasn’t in it’s usual place, but I tried brushing off my uneasiness and headed to our dining area where my mom had prepared breakfast for us. I saw that the back door was wide open, which I thought was odd since we usually kept it shut not wanting our cat to escape.
“Why is the door open” I asked my father.
He shook his head with annoyance, but not with me, instead he nodded his head towards the door and I looked closer. I could see a bit of smoke flutter in the air as my mother walked in, it was clear even to my young age that my mom was outside smoking; something she has never done before.
“Mom smokes?” I asked with pure amazement.
“I know, it bothers me too kiddo” my father said softly not wanting my mother to over hear.
She came in to sit at the table, join us for our usual morning breakfast, the stench of cigarettes stung at my nostrils as my mom passed by me. I wanted to ask so many questions, ask her why was she smoking, where was Whiskers scratching pole; hell where was Whiskers himself, but all that got pushed to the back of mind when I heard my mom speak. Right away I recognized it, the raspy tone in her voice, this person was not my mother.
I avoided her for the next incoming weeks, wedging as much distance between me and whoever that person was. I begged the closet to give me back my mom as it did with my father, pounding at the door each day until my father had enough of my insanity and took the door off it’s hinges. I was devastated, whatever magic the closet possessed was rendered null and void without it’s door. I cried most nights, the wonderment I once had of venturing into the world of Narnia dissipated as all I could ever think of was my mothers return. I would stare at the doorless closet, with the lights off, hoping I could see that dark void but I would see nothing, if anything the closet appeared to more illuminated. I asked my father if he noticed anything different about mom, his face twisted into confusion as he paused his thought digesting my question, it was clear to my father my mother appeared to be the same. I could only imagine how crazy I seemed to him, asking such a question, I asked for my door back but it only angered him.
As the months passed the person that was wearing my mothers skin was short tempered with me, constantly yelling at me for the smallest of things and after awhile I could see how suspicious they were of me. I could see it my mothers eyes whenever she would talk to me, she knew that I knew it wasn’t her and her demeanor towards me only became more cold. I couldn’t take it anymore, I needed to fix what was my fault, I should have never opened the door. I decided to build my own door out of construction paper, gluing together several pages; enough to cover the closet entrance. I crumpled up a piece of paper; shaping into a ball and attached it to the end of a pencil, then pierced it through where the door knob would of been. I waited each night with my homemade door, waiting to hear that voice and after several days of constant repairs to my door did the voice finally come to me.
The nights whenever I would hear the voices became familiar, as if the air itself was electrified; you could feel the small hairs on the back of your neck stand firm when the night was right. As it seemed to always it came to me in the middle of the night, as soon as I heard the faint whispers I shot out of bed storming towards the closet, demanding the return of my mother. I was angry, sad, I long for the warmth of my real mother and I started to scream, that’s when the voice from the other side spoke; it causing me to take step back.
“Can you open the door” it was the voice of a child, somehow there was now a kid behind the door.
I felt apprehensive to opening it, I thought to myself in the moment what this meant, how could a kid be trapped in such an abysmal world.
“Please can you open the door” it pleaded.
I gulped heavy, gripping at the handmade doorknob, my sweaty hand practically slipping off the crumpled paper.
“Please, just open the door” it called out again.
I knew in that moment that if another kid could be lost out in the void then it could surely happen to me, but I wanted my mother back and I knew there was no other choice than opening the door. I turned the knob, it rotating with ease as the all to familiar vibration erupted up my arm, the endless void entering my room. I called out for my mother, as my vision became blurry, I started to lose consciousness but this time I tried my best to stay awake as the darkness invaded my body. It didn’t feel right to stay awake, like that wasn’t allowed so I eventually gave in to the sleep and past out.
I awoke on the floor like I always had, half my body was inside the closet as my paper door laid in ruins; it torn to shreds by what appeared to be claw marks. This time my father was not looking down at me with bewilderment, I was alone in my room, the sun barely revealing itself through the blinds and I could hear noise coming from the kitchen downstairs. I felt tired, my body ached as I arose to my feet and the little sun that shined into my room burned my eyes; causing me to rub at them.
I tried to steady myself, but my balance felt off, as if the room was spinning and I cautiously stepped into the hallway, grabbing on to the staircase railing for support. I quickly realized it was my mother that was in the kitchen, she was a humming a song; her soft voice luring me towards her. In that moment I knew my mother was back, my homemade door had worked. I entered the dining area where my father was already seated drinking his morning coffee, my mother entered with a plate full of pancakes. They both looked normal, their voices carrying the same tone I could always remember them having, Whiskers sprinted across the room it’s fur brushing against my legs; everything was back to normal or at least I thought it was.
As the days passed I noticed there was something very different about myself, the things that would come to my mind, images that were never there before — dark ones; things no child should ever be thinking of. At first I tried brushing it off, understanding that my midnight adventures had perhaps messed with my imagination; making me more receptive to the darker nature of our world. Though I would constantly catch myself fantasizing about the most dreadful things, I grew a bizarre fascination with fire, staring deep into the flame of a lighter, lost in it’s amber beauty.
Funny enough my parents didn’t seem concern with me, or perhaps they saw nothing odd about my behavior, they continued treating me the same as they always had. It didn’t take much to realize whatever I let it in, had found it’s way into me, I could feel it’s presence in the back of my mind — it’s whispers asking horrid things of me. I contemplated about opening the door one last time but I knew letting this ‘thing’ that existed inside of me out would only be inviting a new one in, one that might take a hold of my parents once again. So I did my best to drown out the voice that plagued my thoughts, knowing that I was stronger than ‘it’, we were a happy family again and I didn’t want to lose that.
As the years passed I continued hearing the whispers coming from the closet, they’re dire pleas of wanting to be let in, I would just ignore them; closing my eyes even tighter, forcing myself to fall back to sleep. The voice in the back of my head only grew more ubiquitous; it becoming harder to ignore. By the time I had turned 16 I was a tormented soul, my anger had no bounds, I found myself constantly irritated snapping out at my parents. I told myself I just needed to make it until I was old enough to move out, that’s when I would try to let ‘it’ out but the voice came to me one night all to powerful, projecting grotesque images of what it wanted me to do. That night I killed my poor cat Whiskers, he was old and unaware; he didn’t struggle because of the trust it had for me. I cried throughout the night of what I had done, the entity’s laughter swirling around my mind; consuming my anguish for it’s pleasure.
I knew I had no other choice, but to let another in so this one could leave, I had given up to this creature because I knew what the monster wanted me to do to my parents. I waited patiently for the whispers to come to me and it only took a few weeks, the sound of muffle voices awakening me out of my light slumber. Now being older the feeling was a lot more different, the dark shadows in my room were no longer threatening, the moon showering my room in a blue vibrant hue. I stood to my feet breathing heavy, the cold air tasting sweeter than before, leaving a tingling sensation on my tongue. The beast in the back of my mind calling for me to go back to bed, it knew what was coming, I could hear the eager voices calling to me from behind the door as I walked towards it. I gripped the door knob in my hand, a cold shiver running up my spine, my head started to pound with intensity. I steadied my breathing, inhaling deeply as I turned the door knob and cursed at the monster in my head.
“Go to hell” I told it.
I opened the door and like always the dark void of emptiness flooded into my room, swallowing me into it’s jaws, as I felt my body grow numb. Though this time, something felt very different, my mind no longer grew tired or weary like it had before. My vision remained vivid as I began to gag on the darkness, I could feel myself wandering deeper into the void, deeper that I had ever been and soon I found myself lost in a sea of nothingness. I was endlessly floating out into the darkness as I called out for anyone to hear me. That’s when I heard other voices erupt around me, voices of different languages, some of men and some of women; all crying out for help. I couldn’t tell how long I had drifted, time seem to fade away, I was connected to this universe and my mind slithered through the darkness like a seal swimming in the ocean. I soon began to forget who I was, my memories, my life, I was gradually vanishing into nonexistence as I mumbled away incoherently to myself like some crazy person. That was until I heard a particular voice; one that sounded very different from the others that had surrounded me, this voice sounded more alive.
“Hello? Is someone there?” the voiced called out to me.
I stopped my mumbling when I heard the voice, it was one of a child, I tried turning in all directions but only saw darkness. I outstretched what I thought were my arms feeling around for anything and that’s when my hand collided into some solid, it was cold and hard; it felt like a door. I brushed my hand against it trying to locate a door knob and finally I had found one, I turned it; excited that I had finally returned home but to my dismay it was locked.
“Hello?” the child called out to me again.
I knew I had to say it, there was no other choice, I told the kid what I had heard many times when I was a child; I told him to
‘Open the door’.
The door opened slowly as a bright light encapsulated me in it’s glow causing me to pass out.
I awoke in a strange bed, next to someone I did not recognize, a woman who was still sleeping. I grabbed at my head as a painful throbbing pierced it’s needles at my mind. I didn’t know where I was, the room seemed pristine, things that I had never seen before stood in front of me. I carefully got out of bed, stumbling over some cord, I saw that I had knocked over what seemed to be a calculator. I picked it up and the dam thing came to life, glaring the time and date at me and that’s when my eyes widen with amazement. I ran over to the mirror and almost screamed out with pure horror, the person looking back at me was not me, I was no longer a teenager but instead a middle aged man. The year on the small screen said it was 2024 but I last remember it being 1992, had I really been gone for 32 years.
The house I find myself in is fully equipped with technology I could of only dreamed of when I was little, my father had a laptop for work, a heavy brick it was but now I sit here with this thin as paper computer typing away of my experience. I’ve been trapped here for the last few months, hoping the voices from the closet would call out to me, but sadly they haven’t. I need to find a way back, if that’s even possible, I miss my parents, I miss the life I was suppose to live. I’m trying my best to adapt to this new world I find myself in, the woman that calls herself my wife is pleasant, she reminds of my mom and the kid that calls me dad reminds me a lot of me when I was little, though I think he knows I’m not really his father. One thing really bothers me, I wonder what happen to the person of this body, I don’t feel his presence at all, did I kill him? I can only hope once I escape from here, this family will be reunited, all I can do now is dream.