Winner of the Page Turner
Short Story Contest
The Locked Door
by Jack Arnold
Pine. Alice is nearly positive the door is made of pine. Victoria thinks it’s oak, but Alice knows those are two vastly different woods and it should be difficult to mix them up. Yet somehow, Victoria manages it.
It’s most certainly pine.
“Alice! Alice Thresh!” She’s jolted out of her thoughts by the instructor, who’s glaring down at her. “Alice, you weren’t paying attention. Again. Care to demonstrate how to solve this problem?”
“Thirteen.”
“Come again?” The instructor, Miss Penelope, blinks.
Alice looks up at Miss Penelope's thin, care-worn face. So many wrinkles. Alice thinks she’s ugly, but would never dare say such a thing out loud. She might make the woman cry.
“The answer is thirteen.” Alice says innocently, tapping her slate pencil against the desk.
“Well… yes, it is. But how did you come to such a conclusion?”
“I’m afraid that to answer that question would be to expend all our remaining class time—time that could be spent actually teaching people things. Besides, I’m sure you’ll show us the answer much better than I could have.” She smiles up at the instructor, batting her eyes.
Miss Penelope flounders for a moment, collects herself, then strides back to the front of the classroom. She begins to solve the problem while Alice allows her mind to drift off again. What was she just thinking about? Oh, right, the door. It’s never been opened. Not once. People just ignore it, and walk right past. She had once asked the headmaster where it went. He stared into the distance and said it must be a closet of some sort. Then the topic was dropped and no one thought of it again.
Except Alice.
The headmaster's feeble answer to her question only made her more curious. The door has no lock, yet it cannot be opened. Maybe it’s jammed closed from the other side? That would make sense. But why hasn’t anyone attempted to force it open? And besides, the knob won’t turn. Perhaps it’s merely for show, not actually leading anywhere. Who would build a door that leads to nowhere? Certainly not Alice.
She must remember to show it to her newest friend, Thomas. Victoria only seems to remember the door when Alice reminds her, and even then, she’s very dismissive.
Oh dear, Miss Penelope is talking again. Never mind, the lesson is over. Whatever it was is unimportant. If Alice really must know, she can ask Victoria later.
Alice’s classmates file out the door, and Alice follows at a distance. Crowds get so very… crowded, for lack of a better word. A mirror hanging on the wall catches her eye, and she pauses to tuck a lock of blond hair back into her headband.
A lady must always be presentable, Mother would say. Mother ought to keep her thoughts to herself.
The clock above the far wall reads 9:45, so Alice begins to make her way outside. With fifteen extra minutes, perhaps she should go find Thomas. He’s always in a hurry—always has somewhere to be. It can get quite bothersome, really. She scans the school grounds for him, and spots his white hair and checkered waistcoat underneath the oak tree. He never goes anywhere without that waistcoat.
She strolls over to the tree and cranes her neck to see what book he’s reading today. Some jumble of letters by an 'Edward Conjwren.' She’ll never understand his taste in books, but she supposes he’s allowed to read whatever he wishes. At least if he’s reading, he must have some extra time.
She taps him on the shoulder. “Are you busy?”
Thomas yelps and jerks up, snapping his book closed. “Good heavens, Alice! Don’t sneak up on people like that! You could have given me a heart attack.”
“I sincerely doubt that. And you didn’t answer my question.”
“Well, I suppose I have a moment. Why?” He adjusts his glasses slightly, pushing them up his nose.
“I have something I’d like to show you. Follow me.” Alice smooths her dress out and strides back to the building. Thomas scratches his head in confusion, yet follows anyway, plucking his top hat off the ground and planting it firmly on his head.
They stop in front of the door. It’s inside the east wing (used mostly for storage) so people rarely get the chance to see it.
Up close now, Alice inspects the door. No question. It’s made of pine.
Thomas looks around. “What did you want to show me?”
“The door. Try to open it.”
He does, and gives the knob an odd look when it doesn’t move. “It doesn’t have a lock. Why won’t it open?”
“That’s exactly what I’ve been wondering. It doesn't make sense. And even curiouser, no-one seems to want to talk about it. They forget it exists if they're not standing directly in front of it.”
“Hmm,” Thomas taps his nose. “There shouldn't be anything behind it. The wall’s too thin, it would just lead outside. Except—”
“There’s no door on the outside. Precisely.”
He pulls a pocket watch out of his waistcoat and glances at it. “Oh dear! I’m going to be late to my next lesson. We must discuss this door more later. Meet me at lunch, and bring Victoria.” In another moment, he’s taken off back down the corridor towards his class.
His top hat flies off his head and flutters to the ground, causing him to screech to a stop to retrieve it. Alice giggles to herself, then turns to head to her own classroom.
She already knows most of the subjects they teach here. She taught herself from a very young age. But Mother insisted she attend a boarding school, and heaven forbid she disobey Mother. Her next lesson is chemistry, a topic on which she could not know more or care less.
Mabel cheerily joins her on her walk, and Alice suppresses the urge to roll her eyes. Mabel’s mind is occupied by the one thing no one else does or should care about. Boys.
Horrid creatures, men. Thomas notwithstanding, of course, though occasionally he will exhibit some of the pigheaded symptoms most males are plagued with. Mabel seems to be talking. It might be a good idea to listen to what she’s saying.
“...and then Charles said...”
On the contrary, if Alice listens to her drone on about boys for one more minute, she very well may get stupider. And that would be a tragedy, for the world needs brains like hers. Otherwise, they’d be stuck with many, many Mabels, and that simply would not do.
Ah, they've arrived at the class. And perfectly on time, as the brown-haired idiot next to her has just finished talking. “...wouldn’t you say, Alice?”
“Yes, most certainly. Now we ]must be getting to our desks, lest Mrs. Barnaby put us in detention for being tardy. Again.”
Mabel nodded and walked over to her desk, thankfully an entire classroom’s length away from Alice. Hmm, what to daydream about this time?
Perhaps she should just draw something. She’s fairly decent at it, though not quite as good as Victoria. Wherever the girl may be lacking in wits, she makes up for it in artistic skill.
An hour later, Alice snaps out of the half-sleep-state she was in and looks down at her paper. She’s drawn a key, without even realizing what she was doing. It’s intricate, much more so than anything else she normally would have drawn.
The key is decorated with many shapes and designs, some of which she can’t make out due to its position on the page. The bow (the end of the key that you hold, for those of you not as learned as Alice) is a large heart, and in place of the bit (the part you stick in the door) there’s two rabbit ears, one folded over slightly.
Alice nods to herself. She intends to keep this. Perhaps she’ll frame it later. After she colors it in, of course. What luck that the art lesson is next!
She gets to the classroom as soon as she can. She grabs a box of oil pastels and begins coloring the drawing. Some pink and white for the ears, of course, and red for the heart, but what for the rest? She grabs the purple and fills in the clock design, not entirely of her own accord. It’s almost as if she is outside her own body, watching someone else choose which colors go where. Her hands begin moving very fast, and once again, before she can even figure out what’s happening, the class is over and the key is finished.
Mr. Althos, the art instructor, glances at the drawing as he passes. “Excellent work, Alice! I never knew you could draw so well. I suppose I can excuse your… mental absence for this lesson." He gestures to her paper. "You can keep that for now, but I’d like to display it at the end-of-year art gallery, so do take care.”
“Yes sir.” Alice stands up in a daze. What had just happened? She doesn’t recall drawing the key, and now she hardly had anything to do with the coloring. She should tell Thomas and Victoria about this, over lunch. On that matter, what is for lunch today?
Fish. It's fish. Again. Why couldn’t it be anything sensible, like lamb? Or salad, even. She sighs and collects her tray. She supposes she can tolerate fish for just one more day. After that, if she so much as looks at a fish, she may empty her breakfast on the floor.
Thomas is already seated, reading the book from earlier, while eating a large and oddly shaped piece of fish. Victoria enters the lunch room shortly after Alice, the former looking around for the latter.
Alice waves. Victoria, after retrieving her own tray of fish, joins her in walking over to Thomas. He’s so engrossed in his book that he doesn’t offer them a glance.
“Thomas, we were going to discuss the door, remember?” Alice snaps her fingers.
The poor boy startles and drops his book. “Alice! What did I say about sneaking up on people?”
“We didn’t sneak up. We’ve been standing here a moment,” Victoria says, eyeing her fish warily. “This doesn’t look entirely edible.”
“A curious thing happened to me today,” Alice pulls the drawing from her sash, unfurls it, and lays it on the table. “I was idly drawing in chemistry today, not really thinking about what I was doing, and before I knew it, the lesson was over and this was lying in front of me. Then, when I went to color it during art, it was like my hands moved of their own accord. Look.”
Thomas considered the drawing. “It’s certainly intricate. The detail is incredible. And you’re certain you drew this?”
“Well, yes, I did draw it with my own hands.”
“It’s just, you don’t often display this sort of artistic skill.”
Alice crosses her arms. “I’m sure I could draw this well all the time if I wanted to. Right, Victoria?”
Victoria, who is still inspecting her fish, jumps. “Oh! Yes, I’m sure you could.”
“I thought we were going to discuss the door—” Thomas begins, but is cut off by Alice, who has spotted Mabel walking across the room towards them.
“Why don’t we go see it for ourselves?” She doesn’t bother to wait for an answer, rolling up her drawing and grabbing her friends’ arms, pulling them in the direction of the east wing.
"We haven't finished lunch," Thomas says.
But Alice doesn't hear him. She isn’t in the mood to listen to another of Mabel’s monologues. They arrive at the door quickly and Alice sets about explaining the mysterious door to Victoria, who had once again forgotten.
After a moment, Thomas speaks up. “Alice, Victoria, come here! I've found something! First, here along the edge, you can see that it does in fact open. There’s a small gap between the door and the frame. Too small to see though, but it’s there nonetheless. And the second thing--”
“There’s a keyhole!” Alice exclaims. “That wasn’t there earlier. It’s so oddly shaped, I wonder…” She looks down at her sash. Where the drawing should have been now sits a large, painted iron key—the same one that had been drawn, identical colors and all. “I think I have the key.”
Thomas looks up and gasps. “That’s the one you drew! Where on earth did it come from?”
“I think this is the drawing, or at least it used to be. Victoria, are you keeping up?”
Victoria nodded. “The door had no lock yet it couldn’t be opened. And the drawing that you can’t recall making has turned into an actual key. And that key looks like it might fit the lock that just appeared in the door!”
“Precisely. Thomas, care to do the honors?” Alice hands him the key.
He nods, inserts it into the lock, and turns it. There’s a click. He pushes the door open, takes a step, and yelps as he falls into darkness.
Alice steps forward. “Thomas?”
There’s no answer.
She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and steps forward into the darkness beyond the door. Victoria reaches out for her arm, but she’s already gone.
It’s most certainly pine.
“Alice! Alice Thresh!” She’s jolted out of her thoughts by the instructor, who’s glaring down at her. “Alice, you weren’t paying attention. Again. Care to demonstrate how to solve this problem?”
“Thirteen.”
“Come again?” The instructor, Miss Penelope, blinks.
Alice looks up at Miss Penelope's thin, care-worn face. So many wrinkles. Alice thinks she’s ugly, but would never dare say such a thing out loud. She might make the woman cry.
“The answer is thirteen.” Alice says innocently, tapping her slate pencil against the desk.
“Well… yes, it is. But how did you come to such a conclusion?”
“I’m afraid that to answer that question would be to expend all our remaining class time—time that could be spent actually teaching people things. Besides, I’m sure you’ll show us the answer much better than I could have.” She smiles up at the instructor, batting her eyes.
Miss Penelope flounders for a moment, collects herself, then strides back to the front of the classroom. She begins to solve the problem while Alice allows her mind to drift off again. What was she just thinking about? Oh, right, the door. It’s never been opened. Not once. People just ignore it, and walk right past. She had once asked the headmaster where it went. He stared into the distance and said it must be a closet of some sort. Then the topic was dropped and no one thought of it again.
Except Alice.
The headmaster's feeble answer to her question only made her more curious. The door has no lock, yet it cannot be opened. Maybe it’s jammed closed from the other side? That would make sense. But why hasn’t anyone attempted to force it open? And besides, the knob won’t turn. Perhaps it’s merely for show, not actually leading anywhere. Who would build a door that leads to nowhere? Certainly not Alice.
She must remember to show it to her newest friend, Thomas. Victoria only seems to remember the door when Alice reminds her, and even then, she’s very dismissive.
Oh dear, Miss Penelope is talking again. Never mind, the lesson is over. Whatever it was is unimportant. If Alice really must know, she can ask Victoria later.
Alice’s classmates file out the door, and Alice follows at a distance. Crowds get so very… crowded, for lack of a better word. A mirror hanging on the wall catches her eye, and she pauses to tuck a lock of blond hair back into her headband.
A lady must always be presentable, Mother would say. Mother ought to keep her thoughts to herself.
The clock above the far wall reads 9:45, so Alice begins to make her way outside. With fifteen extra minutes, perhaps she should go find Thomas. He’s always in a hurry—always has somewhere to be. It can get quite bothersome, really. She scans the school grounds for him, and spots his white hair and checkered waistcoat underneath the oak tree. He never goes anywhere without that waistcoat.
She strolls over to the tree and cranes her neck to see what book he’s reading today. Some jumble of letters by an 'Edward Conjwren.' She’ll never understand his taste in books, but she supposes he’s allowed to read whatever he wishes. At least if he’s reading, he must have some extra time.
She taps him on the shoulder. “Are you busy?”
Thomas yelps and jerks up, snapping his book closed. “Good heavens, Alice! Don’t sneak up on people like that! You could have given me a heart attack.”
“I sincerely doubt that. And you didn’t answer my question.”
“Well, I suppose I have a moment. Why?” He adjusts his glasses slightly, pushing them up his nose.
“I have something I’d like to show you. Follow me.” Alice smooths her dress out and strides back to the building. Thomas scratches his head in confusion, yet follows anyway, plucking his top hat off the ground and planting it firmly on his head.
They stop in front of the door. It’s inside the east wing (used mostly for storage) so people rarely get the chance to see it.
Up close now, Alice inspects the door. No question. It’s made of pine.
Thomas looks around. “What did you want to show me?”
“The door. Try to open it.”
He does, and gives the knob an odd look when it doesn’t move. “It doesn’t have a lock. Why won’t it open?”
“That’s exactly what I’ve been wondering. It doesn't make sense. And even curiouser, no-one seems to want to talk about it. They forget it exists if they're not standing directly in front of it.”
“Hmm,” Thomas taps his nose. “There shouldn't be anything behind it. The wall’s too thin, it would just lead outside. Except—”
“There’s no door on the outside. Precisely.”
He pulls a pocket watch out of his waistcoat and glances at it. “Oh dear! I’m going to be late to my next lesson. We must discuss this door more later. Meet me at lunch, and bring Victoria.” In another moment, he’s taken off back down the corridor towards his class.
His top hat flies off his head and flutters to the ground, causing him to screech to a stop to retrieve it. Alice giggles to herself, then turns to head to her own classroom.
She already knows most of the subjects they teach here. She taught herself from a very young age. But Mother insisted she attend a boarding school, and heaven forbid she disobey Mother. Her next lesson is chemistry, a topic on which she could not know more or care less.
Mabel cheerily joins her on her walk, and Alice suppresses the urge to roll her eyes. Mabel’s mind is occupied by the one thing no one else does or should care about. Boys.
Horrid creatures, men. Thomas notwithstanding, of course, though occasionally he will exhibit some of the pigheaded symptoms most males are plagued with. Mabel seems to be talking. It might be a good idea to listen to what she’s saying.
“...and then Charles said...”
On the contrary, if Alice listens to her drone on about boys for one more minute, she very well may get stupider. And that would be a tragedy, for the world needs brains like hers. Otherwise, they’d be stuck with many, many Mabels, and that simply would not do.
Ah, they've arrived at the class. And perfectly on time, as the brown-haired idiot next to her has just finished talking. “...wouldn’t you say, Alice?”
“Yes, most certainly. Now we ]must be getting to our desks, lest Mrs. Barnaby put us in detention for being tardy. Again.”
Mabel nodded and walked over to her desk, thankfully an entire classroom’s length away from Alice. Hmm, what to daydream about this time?
Perhaps she should just draw something. She’s fairly decent at it, though not quite as good as Victoria. Wherever the girl may be lacking in wits, she makes up for it in artistic skill.
An hour later, Alice snaps out of the half-sleep-state she was in and looks down at her paper. She’s drawn a key, without even realizing what she was doing. It’s intricate, much more so than anything else she normally would have drawn.
The key is decorated with many shapes and designs, some of which she can’t make out due to its position on the page. The bow (the end of the key that you hold, for those of you not as learned as Alice) is a large heart, and in place of the bit (the part you stick in the door) there’s two rabbit ears, one folded over slightly.
Alice nods to herself. She intends to keep this. Perhaps she’ll frame it later. After she colors it in, of course. What luck that the art lesson is next!
She gets to the classroom as soon as she can. She grabs a box of oil pastels and begins coloring the drawing. Some pink and white for the ears, of course, and red for the heart, but what for the rest? She grabs the purple and fills in the clock design, not entirely of her own accord. It’s almost as if she is outside her own body, watching someone else choose which colors go where. Her hands begin moving very fast, and once again, before she can even figure out what’s happening, the class is over and the key is finished.
Mr. Althos, the art instructor, glances at the drawing as he passes. “Excellent work, Alice! I never knew you could draw so well. I suppose I can excuse your… mental absence for this lesson." He gestures to her paper. "You can keep that for now, but I’d like to display it at the end-of-year art gallery, so do take care.”
“Yes sir.” Alice stands up in a daze. What had just happened? She doesn’t recall drawing the key, and now she hardly had anything to do with the coloring. She should tell Thomas and Victoria about this, over lunch. On that matter, what is for lunch today?
Fish. It's fish. Again. Why couldn’t it be anything sensible, like lamb? Or salad, even. She sighs and collects her tray. She supposes she can tolerate fish for just one more day. After that, if she so much as looks at a fish, she may empty her breakfast on the floor.
Thomas is already seated, reading the book from earlier, while eating a large and oddly shaped piece of fish. Victoria enters the lunch room shortly after Alice, the former looking around for the latter.
Alice waves. Victoria, after retrieving her own tray of fish, joins her in walking over to Thomas. He’s so engrossed in his book that he doesn’t offer them a glance.
“Thomas, we were going to discuss the door, remember?” Alice snaps her fingers.
The poor boy startles and drops his book. “Alice! What did I say about sneaking up on people?”
“We didn’t sneak up. We’ve been standing here a moment,” Victoria says, eyeing her fish warily. “This doesn’t look entirely edible.”
“A curious thing happened to me today,” Alice pulls the drawing from her sash, unfurls it, and lays it on the table. “I was idly drawing in chemistry today, not really thinking about what I was doing, and before I knew it, the lesson was over and this was lying in front of me. Then, when I went to color it during art, it was like my hands moved of their own accord. Look.”
Thomas considered the drawing. “It’s certainly intricate. The detail is incredible. And you’re certain you drew this?”
“Well, yes, I did draw it with my own hands.”
“It’s just, you don’t often display this sort of artistic skill.”
Alice crosses her arms. “I’m sure I could draw this well all the time if I wanted to. Right, Victoria?”
Victoria, who is still inspecting her fish, jumps. “Oh! Yes, I’m sure you could.”
“I thought we were going to discuss the door—” Thomas begins, but is cut off by Alice, who has spotted Mabel walking across the room towards them.
“Why don’t we go see it for ourselves?” She doesn’t bother to wait for an answer, rolling up her drawing and grabbing her friends’ arms, pulling them in the direction of the east wing.
"We haven't finished lunch," Thomas says.
But Alice doesn't hear him. She isn’t in the mood to listen to another of Mabel’s monologues. They arrive at the door quickly and Alice sets about explaining the mysterious door to Victoria, who had once again forgotten.
After a moment, Thomas speaks up. “Alice, Victoria, come here! I've found something! First, here along the edge, you can see that it does in fact open. There’s a small gap between the door and the frame. Too small to see though, but it’s there nonetheless. And the second thing--”
“There’s a keyhole!” Alice exclaims. “That wasn’t there earlier. It’s so oddly shaped, I wonder…” She looks down at her sash. Where the drawing should have been now sits a large, painted iron key—the same one that had been drawn, identical colors and all. “I think I have the key.”
Thomas looks up and gasps. “That’s the one you drew! Where on earth did it come from?”
“I think this is the drawing, or at least it used to be. Victoria, are you keeping up?”
Victoria nodded. “The door had no lock yet it couldn’t be opened. And the drawing that you can’t recall making has turned into an actual key. And that key looks like it might fit the lock that just appeared in the door!”
“Precisely. Thomas, care to do the honors?” Alice hands him the key.
He nods, inserts it into the lock, and turns it. There’s a click. He pushes the door open, takes a step, and yelps as he falls into darkness.
Alice steps forward. “Thomas?”
There’s no answer.
She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and steps forward into the darkness beyond the door. Victoria reaches out for her arm, but she’s already gone.
About the Author
Jack Arnold is a writer from Nashville, Tennessee (currently based in Canon City, Colorado). Since 2021, he’s specialized in novellas and short stories, though there is one novel-length project he’s currently working on. He’s only had one other story accepted so far, but he’s working on changing that. If you would like to read more of his work, visit his Substack: https://theseersarchives.substack.com/
If you would like to contact the author with comments, compliments, or questions use the form below. Please understand that this is a project of love and support for our authors and our young readers, so negativity will not get you in touch with any of our authors.
If you would like to contact the author with comments, compliments, or questions use the form below. Please understand that this is a project of love and support for our authors and our young readers, so negativity will not get you in touch with any of our authors.
Copyright notice: The Red Door by Jack Arnold - © 2022 All rights reserved.
Any redistribution or reproduction of part or all of the contents in any form is prohibited other than the following:
Any redistribution or reproduction of part or all of the contents in any form is prohibited other than the following:
- you may print or download to a local hard disk extracts for your personal and non-commercial use only
- you may copy the content to individual third parties for their personal use, but only if you acknowledge the author as the source of the material
Image by Alexander Antropov from Pixabay
