The Wandering Door To Somewhere

20251217

Written for Luna Asli Kolcu’s “Myths of Winter - Week 3” event.

How long had that door been here?
While I walked this hallway at least twice a day, often more, that repetition meant I barely saw it anymore. Plus, the uni accommodation units weren’t decorated to be admired. They practically begged you to zone out. Which meant the wood-brown, though not an attention-grabbing shade in most circumstances, stood out starkly against the clinically-inoffensive-grey.
I paused, weight of my backpack and stress about my upcoming test forgotten in an instant, to examine the strange door.
Well, the door itself wasn’t strange. Nondescript was the kindest way of putting it. Plain wood, minimalist design. No knocker or lock, and a plain round handle. Utterly unlike every other door in the building. That ‘definitely doesn’t belong here’ was what left me staring.
After peering at the edges until I was pretty sure this was in fact a door and was in fact attached to the wall, I decided to take the bait and knocked.
Nothing.
Ok, so, try the handle, it’ll open to a blank wall or a silly sign or something…
The handle turned easily. The door swung open. And I found myself staring at… a valley? Rolling green slopes dotted with wildflowers dropped away to a twee village of picturesque thatched cottages.
A breeze tickled my face. Warm, and clear, entirely unlike the cold city air outside. It smelt of woodsmoke.
This…
When I reached out a hand, expecting to hit brick at any moment, I instead felt no resistance - only sunshine.
I fumbled out my phone to take a picture - hastily blocking the door with my foot, as the moment I let go it started to swing shut. But in the photo the door held only the expected grey wall.
This was so weird!
It took me a while to find the local supernatural sightings board, but once I did the door was one of the top topics. According to the pinned post it moved around the city every Tuesday night at 3:38am. Everyone saw something different through it. Most people saw the same scene each time they opened it.
Everyone was adamant that someone must have gone through the door by now, and there were hundreds of posts speculating about what had befallen them, but I couldn’t help but notice none of the posters ever said anything about them going through.
Sensible. Anything could happen.
I looked up at the village. Smoke was wafting above several chimneys. I could see a huddle of people by the well, though at this distance it was impossible to make out details. It really did feel like I could step through and be in a different world.
And… the scene was familiar. Oddly. I’d never so much as visited an old-fashioned place like this. Yet I felt certain I knew this scene.
I pulled my foot back, letting the door soundlessly slide closed, then opened it again. Yep. Same scene.
Okay then.
I continued down the hall to my tiny one-room ‘apartment’, my mind caught up in trying to figure out why that world behind the door was giving me deja vu.
No, it was more than that. It called to me. Was that some kind of trap? Or did I actually know that village somehow?
I didn’t get any work done that night. Too busy reading every post on the forum related to the door. Most of it was baseless speculation. Nothing gave me any hints as to why the scene the door showed me felt familiar.
While I considered calling in sick the next day (and honestly, with how tired I was after staying up late skimming posts, it might have been justified), I pushed through and tried to set the question aside. At least until lectures.
But I did peep in the door as I went past. It was the same scene, though now the village was bathed in early morning light, the grass bejewelled with dew.
So… the times were synced. Interesting.
It was during my after-lunch lecture, when my mind was wandering and my hand started doodling in my notes, that I realised where that village was from.
Mineglen. The setting I’d come up with as a kid. The first one I’d actually fleshed out. In obsessive detail, actually. I’d gotten really into it.
I sat motionless the rest of the lecture, too busy fighting the urge to leap up and run all the way to the door to even pretend to be listening. Half-remembered scraps of childhood stories teased at my mind.
The moment it wouldn’t get me in trouble I was gone. Sprinting back to my accommodation block. I had half an hour before my next lecture and I couldn’t wait until the day was over to check my theory.
Breathless and shaky I yanked the door open and scanned the buildings once more.
Yes. It was all there. Bjorn’s mill by the river. Patty’s forge. Mayor Ben’s inn. Poor guffy Farmer Fred’s fields. The Baker family’s bakery.
And a little away from the rest… Aralia the Adventurer’s house. I could just make out the shield hung over the door. Couldn’t see that it was two halves, but I remembered that detail clearly.
It was all just as I imagined it. My childhood sanctuary. The first world I’d tried to bring to life, suddenly living right in front of me.
I slowly stepped back. Letting the door swing shut.
It’d be here for another five days. And even after that, seems it normally got found most weeks. There was no reason to rush into this.
No reason to be the one to confirm that you could indeed go through… and find out whether you could get back.
But I knew I’d be thinking about it.

Prompt was “Every winter, a door appears somewhere in your city that wasn’t there before. It moves each week. It showed up in your hallway. The door leads somewhere different for everyone who opens it.”