I woke up, though my eyes have yet to open, I realize that this setting is unfamiliar to me, this is not my home. I don't feel the comfort of my bed, instead I feel the cold hard ground beneath my body.

I finally decided to open my eyes. When I go to open my eyes I'm greeted with a sight for which I don't know, I look around, mind running on all of the possibilities on how I ended up here, how I ended up in the situation that I am in at this very moment. I look around, scared and curious as to where I am, I observe my surroundings and see that I am in a field, I'm surrounded by locks of long grass that are almost tall as sunflowers, buried within the tall grass I spot flowers, just beginning to bloom, my gaze shifted to the left of me, that's when I spot it, a door, just sitting eerily in the tall grass, almost as if it was calling me, calling me to open it, to go through the door to find out whatever secrets lie behind this mystery of a door. As I was lying there, debating whether or not I wanted to go through the door, though I already knew the answer, it didn't hurt to think about it for a bit, to delay the moment when I opened the door, and faced with whatever lies behind it. I got up, reluctant, but determined nonetheless. Brushing the grass of my legs that stuck to them from lying in the spot for so long, I finally got myself situated and made my way towards the door, anxious. afraid, and unwilling to move, an unwillingness to move, but I continued on anyway. As I was nearing the door, I noticed the designs and colors of this door, it was a creamy white color and the designs on this door were so sophisticated, this door had gold lining from top to bottom that went from curly elegant lines, which then morphed into a beautiful array of flowers, which were present at all four corners of the door, I admired this door, thinking on how out of place this door was, it looked like it belonged in a castle or a mansion, where it would only be used ever so often. I put my hands on the door knob, just about to turn the door knob that felt insanely cold in my hand, as I was about to turn the knob, I heard a sound coming from the distance, it sounded like wind chimes dangling in the wind, a soft twinkling sound. I directed my attention to where I heard the sound, thinking how odd it was to hear this sound, as it wasn't windy out, it was calm, almost too calm, as I was turning back towards the door to open it, I felt a cold shiver that shuddered down my spine, that left me feeling uneasy, watched, and alone. I felt as if there was a presence, though I was unsure of what exactly was out there I was frightened by the thought that someone might be out here in this secluded field with me.

The field is silent. Save for the occasional lilting tinkling of unseen wind chimes, there is no sound to fill in the gaps between my breaths. It's as if the world itself is watching me, holding its pwn breath in fear of drowning out any noise I may make. The sun bears down warmly, illuminating still stalks of grass and the white door in front of me. The sky is clear, and the air carries the warmth of a lovely spring day. The wind chimes sound again, but there is no gentle breeze rustling the grass and running its fingers through my hair to play that tune. The chimes sound empty, without the birdsong and rustling of leaves and trees and grass that always seemed to accompany them. The world remains absolutely still. Something churns, deep in my gut, and I tighten my grip on the doorknob. The detailed designs in the icy metal dig into my skin. The chill is painful, refusing to go away despite the fact that this cold shouldn't exist on a day like this. Some feral part of me is begging to take off, to forget the door and just run as fast and far as I can. Why am I trying to open this door in the first place?

The thing is interesting, obviously. It is covered in ornate designs, from the gold framing the edges, to the shapes carved into the ivory-painted wood, even the doorknob looks as if it belongs in a palace. The gold shines where the sunlight touches it, the creamy white paint similarly brilliant in the direct light. The effect wreaths almost the whole thing in an ethereal glow. But it can't lead anywhere. It's just a door and a doorframe. I move through the grass, pushing the verdant stalks away from my face as I walk around the door. The back looks the same as the front, covered in elegant, swirling designs and glimmering wherever the sunlight can reach it through the tall grass. The handle is just as ice-cold. I trace over the delicate carvings in the wood, and am troublingly unsurprised to find it affected by the same chill as the doorknobs. The chill of the door seeps into my bones and settles in my gut. It's a fine, sunny day, with no wind to steal any warmth, though the windchimes would say otherwise. I suppose it is a bit much to expect an extravagant door standing in the middle of a strange field to behave normally.

My hand remains on the door as I make my way back to the front. Is it the front? I assumed it was the front, but it's really just the side I approached it from. I ignore the urge to run. This door is my only guideline to where I am, my only companion to distract from the eyes drilling holes into my flesh. I want to go home. I want to wake up and forget this as if it were just a nightmare. But the chill of the doorknob as I grip it is achingly real. This is not something I will wake up from. I turn the knob slowly, waiting for something to pounce. I can't tell which option I want more; that the door truly is just a random door, that it opens to nothing but the other side, or that it opens to somewhere that isn't here. If it did, and I stepped through, would the gaze follow me? Will I ever be able to escape it? There's only one way to know.

A cloud blocks out the sun as I turn the knob fully, erasing the soft glow of the door. I freeze. The sky was clear not five seconds ago. A breeze drifts through the grass, stirring the stalks as it blows the hair from my face. The sudden chill makes me shiver. The grass doesn't stop rustling after the wind dies, and more sounds arise. Life fills the air around me in a heartbeat, like the world has finally remembered to breathe. The grass seems to droop slightly in the wind, no longer standing so straight. I can hear the wind chimes again, but they're much less out of place now. I think of my husband, the way he acted after he realised I was planning to leave. The ever-dirty dishes were washed, the laundry poorly folded and put away, the chocolates and flowers and dates I'd lamented the disappearance of returned in full force. The sudden lack of conflict, the way he'd fold his hands behind his back and promise he'd be better. The way anger returned to his features and his outstretched hand became a fist when he learned I was still going to leave anyways. Rays of light shine through the clouds, bathing me in warm sunlight. It feels exposing. Whatever anger this place will react with when I try to leave can't be worse than what will happen if I stay. I open the door, a soft creak coming from the hinges, and am met with a room bathed in shadow. What furniture the light illuminates is just as extravagant as the door. I think the floor might be marble. The sky is clear, the sun shining brightly, but the warmth of its rays doesn't reach me this time. The wind picks up, whipping my hair about and dragging cold claws over my face and through my clothes. The chill that emanates from the room is quieter, softer. It reaches for me gently, taking its time to sink into my bones. It feels like the whole room is waiting silently for me to enter. Hesitation stills me. What if the room is worse?

The grass has gone stiff again, barely swaying in the growing gale. Despite that, I can still hear the sound of the stalks rustling violently. Something is coming. The marble floor is icy and smooth, sending a shiver down my spine. I adjust onto the balls of my feet, letting as little of me as possible touch the frigid surface. As soon as I'm inside, the door snaps shut, taking with it the only source of light. Even in the darkness, I can feel the eyes on me, watching my every move. The silence bears down on me like an ocean.