Post 1 – “The Door at 3:33”

Post 1 – “The Door at 3:33”

I don’t know why I still look at the clock.

Every night it’s the same: 3:33.

The room feels different. The shadows aren’t the same as during the day. The sound of the wind changes. The air grows heavier, as if something is breathing with me—but slower.

At first, I thought it was just a dream—the kind that repeats when you’re carrying something you don’t understand.
But it isn’t a dream.
I know because the clock still shows the same time when I wake up.

In the hallway, there’s a door. Always the same one.
It shouldn’t exist. During the day, there’s only a wall.
But at 3:33, the door appears.

Sometimes it’s closed.
Sometimes slightly open, as if someone has just gone inside.

I hear footsteps behind it. And the sound is… too human to be the wind.

I’ve never had the courage to touch the handle.

Until last night.

The wood was cold, damp. The sound stopped the moment I touched it. No wind. No noise.

But something told me that, on the other side, someone also had their hand on the handle—waiting for me to turn it first.

I didn’t.
Not yet.

But tonight… I don’t know if I’ll be able to resist.

Maybe I’ll leave the door open.

by Cristina Davenport

www.universomarzano.com