The Red Door
The Red Door 18-03-24 Finn was an explorer at heart, even if his explorations rarely ventured beyond the overgrown edges of his grandfather's sprawling backyard. One humid afternoon, while chasing a particularly plump bumblebee, he stumbled upon something he'd never seen before a red gate. It wasn't a grand entrance, more of a rickety wooden frame nestled between two ancient oaks, barely noticeable beneath a curtain of ivy. Curiosity pricked Finn like a thistle. He'd never seen a gate in the backyard before. The latch, a rusty crescent moon, seemed to beckon him. Ignoring a nagging voice in his head, Finn pushed. The gate creaked open with a groan that echoed through the heavy air. A cold gust of wind whipped past him, smelling faintly of sulfur. He peered through the narrow opening. All he saw was an inky blackness. Hesitantly, Finn stepped through. The world went dark. He stumbled, heart hammering in his chest. When his vision adjusted, he gasped. He wasn't in hi...