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Description
There is a door in the forest.

It wasn’t always there, but no one could remember when it appeared, or how. It stood among the trees as if it had sprung up from the earth, just another sapling among many. Before it appeared, the forest had been a welcome place to us. Hunting was good, and there were many good things to eat, and firewood was never lacking.

But then the door came, and not even our bravest warriors would go past the tree line any more. They returned with stories of how the woods were dark as midnight around it, even in midday. The animals had left and any wood they had brought back rotted before it could be used. Only the foolish few entered, seeking fame and glory. None ever returned.

My brother was one of those so-called fools.

Our parents begged him not to go, but once he set foot inside the tree line, they turned their backs and never spoke of him again. His things were burned, all but his traveling cloak, which I hid under my bed. No place was set for him at the table. It was as if he had never been.

But I knew better. He had been my protector when I was small. He taught me about storms so I wouldn't be afraid. He hadn't been afraid of anything. That was why he had gone in. To prove that there was nothing to fear, and perhaps free our village from the suffering he saw every day. I could think of nothing more noble.

Which was why, in the hour before the sun came up, I gathered my good winter coat, a small knife, and a little bread and cheese and crept out the door, determined to bring my brother home.

The rising sun warmed my back as I climbed the hill to the forest. I stopped for a moment on the very edge, right where my brother had been when he entered. There was nothing sinister looking about this place. If one passed by without knowing the tales of the place, they would be forgiven for assuming it was a normal forest. Even I, who had been raised on the stories, had to remind myself that this was that same forest.

The first step across the tree line was a shock. The temperature plunged, leaving my teeth chattering before I had passed fully inside. The light all but disappeared behind me. Above, only a starless midnight sky greeted me through the canopy of leaves.

I hadn't counted on needing my coat so soon, but I was glad of the little warmth it provided. I only hoped it wouldn't become colder the further in I went.

There was no birdsong in these woods. Nor was there the sound of animals scurrying in the underbrush. No breeze so much as stirred the branches above me. All was still and silent and dark. But though there was no sound, I could feel that it wasn't wholly deserted. Something had noticed my entrance, and it was following me. I tried to catch sight of it more than once, but it eluded me each time.

The whispers began soon after. At first I thought it might be the wind, but then it sounded more like someone was calling my name. “Gerda, Gerda.” But no matter which way I turned, I could not find the origin of the sound.

I walked for what must have been the entire morning without encountering the door. It was well past time to eat, but my stomach was too tight. I had yet to encounter anything flesh and blood, so my little knife was quite useless as well. The only useful thing I seemed to have brought was my coat, and even it was doing a poor job of keeping the chill away. I hurried on.

Without the sun to guide me, I had no idea how long I wandered, or even which direction, but the food had not stretched far enough to stave off hunger. It would be a long walk home.

I came upon the door almost by mistake. I had been looking for something more awe-inspiring, like a wide clearing with a single beam of moonlight shining down on it. I expected something bright and painted and imposing. What faced me instead was as weathered, splintering thing, like any door in my village.

For something that had caused so much misery to look so plain filled me with rage. I wished I had brought an axe instead of my little knife. Then I would have hacked it to kindling and burned it. But it was too late to go back. I would not get another chance, and I was convinced that if I turned back now, the thing that had been following me would catch and devour me. Perhaps this had been the fate of all who made it this far.

I reached out for the door handle, braced for some shock like lightning to run through my body. As I had approached, the whispers had grown so loud it sounded like cicada calls, but as I reached out, all sound ceased, as if someone had shut the lid on it. My breath came short and fast. The handle was cold, but no shock came. It turned easily in my hand, as if freshly oiled. It swung inward, the hinges making no noise.

It was then that I understood the folly of coming to this place.

A door in the middle of the woods might be expected to open to reveal a view of the trees on the other side. But this door was no ordinary door. On the other side was a hellish landscape, covered in ash and craters, littered with bodies bearing the crest of my village.

The sky on the other side of the door boiled with thunderheads, and lightning flashed, illuminating hordes of shadows that twisted and chattered on the other side. One figure stood between them and the door. One very familiar figure. My heart stopped.

“Torvald!”

“Gerda? Gerda, no!”
The lapse must have been what they were waiting for, because the shadows surged forward. One crashed into Torvald so hard it knocked him flat onto the ground, and then he was lost to sight under the trampling horde.

I reached for the door, but it was too late. They streamed through the door, around and over me, and the force of their assault drove me back against a tree and for a long time I could see nothing but shadow.

When at last the dark tide had run its course, I sank to the ground. My face was wet, but I didn't remember crying. One more creature came out of the door, and I almost cried out in relief when I saw that it was my brother.

I choked it back down when I saw none of the warmth in his eyes. The thing that wore my brother's face looked down on me as it strode past, his usual playful face twisted into one of disdain. I reached out for him, but he was already gone, spirited away by whatever power had taken him.

For a long time I sat frozen by the tree, staring into the space where he had just been and hardly believing my own folly. With one simple action, I might have doomed everyone to whatever horror my brother and so many others had fought to keep back.

My brother.

There was no way I could allow that thing to keep him. By whatever means I could find, I had to free him and bring him home. And maybe find a way to send the creatures back where they belong.

A door stands open in the middle of the forest. And I must find a way to close it.

Description
There is a door in the forest.

It wasn’t always there, but no one could remember when it appeared, or how. It stood among the trees as if it had sprung up from the earth, just another sapling among many. Before it appeared, the forest had been a welcome place to us. Hunting was good, and there were many good things to eat, and firewood was never lacking.

But then the door came, and not even our bravest warriors would go past the tree line any more. They returned with stories of how the woods were dark as midnight around it, even in midday. The animals had left and any wood they had brought back rotted before it could be used. Only the foolish few entered, seeking fame and glory. None ever returned.

My brother was one of those so-called fools.

Our parents begged him not to go, but once he set foot inside the tree line, they turned their backs and never spoke of him again. His things were burned, all but his traveling cloak, which I hid under my bed. No place was set for him at the table. It was as if he had never been.

But I knew better. He had been my protector when I was small. He taught me about storms so I wouldn't be afraid. He hadn't been afraid of anything. That was why he had gone in. To prove that there was nothing to fear, and perhaps free our village from the suffering he saw every day. I could think of nothing more noble.

Which was why, in the hour before the sun came up, I gathered my good winter coat, a small knife, and a little bread and cheese and crept out the door, determined to bring my brother home.

The rising sun warmed my back as I climbed the hill to the forest. I stopped for a moment on the very edge, right where my brother had been when he entered. There was nothing sinister looking about this place. If one passed by without knowing the tales of the place, they would be forgiven for assuming it was a normal forest. Even I, who had been raised on the stories, had to remind myself that this was that same forest.

The first step across the tree line was a shock. The temperature plunged, leaving my teeth chattering before I had passed fully inside. The light all but disappeared behind me. Above, only a starless midnight sky greeted me through the canopy of leaves.

I hadn't counted on needing my coat so soon, but I was glad of the little warmth it provided. I only hoped it wouldn't become colder the further in I went.

There was no birdsong in these woods. Nor was there the sound of animals scurrying in the underbrush. No breeze so much as stirred the branches above me. All was still and silent and dark. But though there was no sound, I could feel that it wasn't wholly deserted. Something had noticed my entrance, and it was following me. I tried to catch sight of it more than once, but it eluded me each time.

The whispers began soon after. At first I thought it might be the wind, but then it sounded more like someone was calling my name. “Gerda, Gerda.” But no matter which way I turned, I could not find the origin of the sound.

I walked for what must have been the entire morning without encountering the door. It was well past time to eat, but my stomach was too tight. I had yet to encounter anything flesh and blood, so my little knife was quite useless as well. The only useful thing I seemed to have brought was my coat, and even it was doing a poor job of keeping the chill away. I hurried on.

Without the sun to guide me, I had no idea how long I wandered, or even which direction, but the food had not stretched far enough to stave off hunger. It would be a long walk home.

I came upon the door almost by mistake. I had been looking for something more awe-inspiring, like a wide clearing with a single beam of moonlight shining down on it. I expected something bright and painted and imposing. What faced me instead was as weathered, splintering thing, like any door in my village.

For something that had caused so much misery to look so plain filled me with rage. I wished I had brought an axe instead of my little knife. Then I would have hacked it to kindling and burned it. But it was too late to go back. I would not get another chance, and I was convinced that if I turned back now, the thing that had been following me would catch and devour me. Perhaps this had been the fate of all who made it this far.

I reached out for the door handle, braced for some shock like lightning to run through my body. As I had approached, the whispers had grown so loud it sounded like cicada calls, but as I reached out, all sound ceased, as if someone had shut the lid on it. My breath came short and fast. The handle was cold, but no shock came. It turned easily in my hand, as if freshly oiled. It swung inward, the hinges making no noise.

It was then that I understood the folly of coming to this place.

A door in the middle of the woods might be expected to open to reveal a view of the trees on the other side. But this door was no ordinary door. On the other side was a hellish landscape, covered in ash and craters, littered with bodies bearing the crest of my village.

The sky on the other side of the door boiled with thunderheads, and lightning flashed, illuminating hordes of shadows that twisted and chattered on the other side. One figure stood between them and the door. One very familiar figure. My heart stopped.

“Torvald!”

“Gerda? Gerda, no!”
The lapse must have been what they were waiting for, because the shadows surged forward. One crashed into Torvald so hard it knocked him flat onto the ground, and then he was lost to sight under the trampling horde.

I reached for the door, but it was too late. They streamed through the door, around and over me, and the force of their assault drove me back against a tree and for a long time I could see nothing but shadow.

When at last the dark tide had run its course, I sank to the ground. My face was wet, but I didn't remember crying. One more creature came out of the door, and I almost cried out in relief when I saw that it was my brother.

I choked it back down when I saw none of the warmth in his eyes. The thing that wore my brother's face looked down on me as it strode past, his usual playful face twisted into one of disdain. I reached out for him, but he was already gone, spirited away by whatever power had taken him.

For a long time I sat frozen by the tree, staring into the space where he had just been and hardly believing my own folly. With one simple action, I might have doomed everyone to whatever horror my brother and so many others had fought to keep back.

My brother.

There was no way I could allow that thing to keep him. By whatever means I could find, I had to free him and bring him home. And maybe find a way to send the creatures back where they belong.

A door stands open in the middle of the forest. And I must find a way to close it.