Doors do not stay open forever

Darkness swallowed me. Not normal darkness, either. This was the kind of darkness that felt like it had teeth.

When the world snapped back, I was lying on cold stone. The circle glowed faintly, my flashlight flickered like it was about to file a complaint with HR, and my shadow—oh, my shadow was no longer attached.

It stood across from me, stretched tall and sharp, smirking with my face. Have you ever seen your own smirk on something that isn’t you? Ten out of ten do not recommend.

The hooded figure remained in the circle, still and patient, like they had all the time in the world. Which, considering the ambiance, they probably did.

“You’ve lingered long,” the voice murmured, rippling with too many layers. “Curiosity demands a price.”

“I already paid with my dignity,” I said. “And possibly my sleep schedule.”

The shadow tilted its head. “He hesitates,” it said, in my voice—but sharper, smoother, like I’d been practicing being cool in a mirror for years and finally nailed it. “I don’t.”

“Correct,” the figure said, almost pleased. “He stays. You go.”

I scrambled upright. “Wait. Who’s staying? Who’s going? And is there a refund policy?”

The figure ignored me. “Choose,” they said. “See, or stay. If you see—you are bound to it. If you stay—you return above, but hollow.”

“Define hollow,” I said.

My shadow grinned. “It means I get to drive.”

For one terrible moment, I understood: if I chose “stay,” my shadow would leave with them. And I’d walk back upstairs lighter, emptier, forever missing whatever makes me me. If I chose “see,” I’d go deeper, past the door, into whatever waited—and maybe never come back.

Neither option sounded great.

The circle pulsed, impatient.

I tried logic. “Okay, hypothetical. What if I choose neither? Just, you know, go home, watch reality TV, pretend this was indigestion—”

The figure’s voice boomed, shaking the chamber: “There is no neither.”

The murals on the walls writhed. Eyes blinked open in the stone. Hands reached. The library above us was gone; this place had its own gravity, its own hunger.

My shadow stepped closer to the circle. “He wastes time. I’ll see.”

And before I could stop it, the thing that was me-but-not-me lunged forward into the light.

The circle flared. The air crackled. The figure’s hood tilted as if in surprise.

And I realized: the choice was made, but not by me.

The ground shook. The murals peeled themselves free of the walls. Stairs unfolded downward, endless and black, spiraling into someplace that smelled of ash and stars. My shadow was gone—completely gone—vanished into the staircase.

I staggered. For the first time in days, my body felt light. Too light. My hands shook. My chest was hollow. The part of me that cracked jokes at funerals, that made bad choices, that rushed into danger with a grin—that was gone.

The hooded figure’s many-layered voice whispered: “Balance is kept.”

I should have felt relief. I should have been happy that the sarcastic, smirking parasite was no longer tugging at my movements. But instead there was this sinking dread: without that reckless piece of me, what was left?

“I didn’t choose,” I said quietly.

“You did,” the figure replied. “You hesitated. That is a choice.”

And with that, the stairs sealed. The circle dimmed. Silence pressed in.

The figure lifted their hood just enough for me to glimpse a pale mask where their face should have been. Blank, but smiling.

“Doors do not stay open forever,” they said.

And then everything blinked—like someone cut the reel of film.

I was standing back in the library. Same dusty shelves. Same smell of old paper. My flashlight was steady now. No circle on the ground, no murals, no figure.

But when I glanced at the floor, I didn’t see a shadow at all.

It was gone.

---

Diary Entry #11

Dear Diary,

1. My shadow quit. Just packed up its sarcasm and dramatic timing and walked into the abyss.

2. Apparently, hesitation is also a choice. Rude.

3. I might technically be hollow now? Don’t ask me what that means. I’m still working through the existential Yelp review.

4. On the plus side: no more smirking reflections. On the minus side: no more me?

— Me

P.S. If you see my shadow wandering around town, please tell it rent is due.