You Found a Door

The door should open into another room.

It does not.

Beyond the frame lies a narrow path beneath trees too old and too tall to belong anywhere you know. Their branches disappear into a pale canopy. Ferns crowd the stones. Mist hangs low between the trunks.

Somewhere beyond them, water is running.

Behind you waits the room you came from. Ahead waits something else.

The air smells of rain, wet bark, and something faintly metallic.

You should probably close the door.