I sit in my chair, and I watch the door.
It’s a rocking chair, made out of oak. It has a tall back consisting of two tall posts with decorative bridges between them. The seat is simple, strips of wood bent and shaped to fit a man’s bottom comfortably, and the legs of the chair end in two thick curved rails. The rails taper quickly off the front of the chair, but extend far in the rear to keep the chair from falling backwards when I rock.
The door is also made of wood. It’s five wide planks arranged adjacent to each other, up and down. The white paint is peeling on the edges, and the nails of the two iron straps stretched across them are rusty. I can see light through most of the gaps between the planks, but not all. Along the bottom is a strip of light punctuated by two conspicuous shadows. They don’t move.
I don’t know how long I have watched the door. I rock back and forth gently, listening to the creak of the rails and straining to hear the slightest movement, slightest clue from the other side of the door. There is none.
I know something is behind me. I have known it so long the feeling is just another part of me, like the chair. So long that I’m no longer sure it’s true. But I know if I look to check, even so much as a glance, the door will open.
And so I sit in my chair and rock and watch the door.
To my right is a small table. The top is a smooth oval, stained brown to match my chair. On it is a cup full of water, a key, and a bell. When I thirst, I drink from the cup, careful to not take my eyes from the door. I do not know what the key unlocks. I have not touched the bell.
I watch the door.
Something is behind me, and the feeling grows stronger. If I look, the door will open, and something will happen. I don’t know what. I never will. I never will.
Through my rocking I hear a strange creak. Is it from the door? No. But I will not look back.
I start to rock again, harder now, and I watch the door.
More creaking.
I rock faster.
The creaking grows closer.
The rails of my chair strain. The door doesn’t move.
It’s right behind me.
I stop and spin around all in the same movement.
And there’s a white wooden door made of five planks of wood with two straps across them, and it’s open. A padlock hangs loose with a key sticking out of it. There are no shadows.
A bell begins to ring behind me.
