I don't know how, but I'd never noticed the small doorway before. It was opposite the bathroom, and so you'd think I'd have seen it every time I exited the smallest room in the house, but I just...hadn't.
At the time I was in a rush, so I just mentally noted it, thought "How strange," and ran to meet my friends.
It was later that night - when I couldn't sleep - that I decided to explore it.
My name's Jacob. I live with my mother, my father, and my sister. Well, Mom and Dad aren't around much, so it's just me and Ashley most of the time. We're sometimes referred to as the "Wonder Twins". Not because we're twins, but because we lucked out genetically. I'm tall, broad-shouldered, and I work out - and my sister?
To put it simply, my sister is the most attractive creature on the planet.
Long, blonde hair, a tiny waist, and tits that are perfectly proportioned to her frame. They say I'm a looker, but I honestly can't compete with Ash...I know that it's wrong, but many time I've lain awake at night thinking about my sister's perfectly plump lips wrapping around my cock, wondering if her body is as perfect as it looks...
I'd feel guilty about it, but honestly...a lot of things keep me up at night. I'm an insomniac, and if I'm going to be staring at the ceiling, I figure I might as well be thinking about something pleasant. Sometimes I'll make a game of it, and see how many times I can jerk off in a row. I don't always think about my sister, but she's started wearing less and less clothes around the house, so...yeah, it's rare for any other females to enter my fantasies.
Unless they're joining my sister and me, if you know what I mean.
On this night, however, I wasn't jerking off. I was laying there, as usual, staring at the ceiling, when suddenly I remembered the little door. Now you might be thinking that the middle of the night isn't the best time to be exploring strange rooms, but let me tell you: when you can't sleep, the middle of the night is the best time for doing
anything
.
I got up, grabbed a flashlight, and decided to see what was in there.
I wasn't expecting anything exciting. It was just a door in my house that I've never noticed before; it wasn't like it was going to contain hidden pirate treasure, or a secret aunt that Mom and Dad never told us about. But one of my methods of dealing with the insomnia is to just follow my whims. An unanswered question can bounce around my head all night, but I knew that once I saw that nothing was in there, it would be one more thing that wasn't be distracting me.
The door was stiff, like it hadn't been opened in a long time. The doorknob turned fine, it was the door itself that seemed to be stuck. I gave it a good shove, but nothing happened.
A part of me considered just going back to bed, but I wanted to know what was in there. Even if it was just old Christmas decorations, I wouldn't be able to sleep until I found out. So I put the flashlight down on the floor, put my shoulder to the door, and gave it a good shove.
I felt it shift, and decided to give it one more shot - with a proper run-up - and if that failed, give up, go to bed, and spend the rest of the night wondering why the sky was blue or something like that.
(Not really; I know exactly why the sky is blue. The question kept me up all night when I was nine, and so I'd found my parents' old encyclopaedias, and read everything relating to 'atmosphere' and 'light frequencies' and yada yada yada. If I'd known the password to their computer, I probably would've been able to find out in less than two minutes).
In the end, I had to do a run-up while half bent over (if my parents or sister had come out at that point, they would have been met with a very strange sight).
Determined to find out what was inside the tiny door - perhaps Harry Potter, locked away so his letters couldn't find him - I half-ran, half-scampered towards the door, and when my shoulder made contact, the small door flew open with a loud 'BANG', and I went tumbling into the tiny room.
Not surprisingly, it was full of dust, and I spent a few minutes coughing and wheezing, hoping that I wasn't filling my lungs with asbestos. When I felt like I could breathe again, I listened carefully to see if my door-opening skills had roused anyone from their sleep. Nope! It seemed that I was free to explore the room alone.
My flashlight illuminated the tiny room. It was no longer than an average bed, and about as wide as a king. A king bed, that is. Not, like, an actual king. It was so full of dust that I was practically choking with every breath; I put my sleeve over my mouth just to make sure that I didn't start coughing again, and had a look at the room's contents.
In each corner of the room was a filing cabinet...other than that, the room was completely bare. Weirdly, each filing cabinet had a name - 'Spencer Maslow', 'Ruth Maslow', 'Ashley Maslow' and my name, 'Jacob Maslow'. Ruth and Spencer are my parents, and my first thought was that this was where they kept all of our paperwork. Birth certificates, SSNs, tax returns, all that kind of thing...but then I remembered that Mom had a drawer in her study upstairs for all that junk. And they'd needed to find Ashley's birth certificate when she got her license last year.
This room looked like it hadn't been opened in a long, long time.
I went straight for my own filing cabinet, of course - who wouldn't? Inside there were a bunch of files, and I picked one at random from the middle.
'Organization,' it said, and here's where things got really weird.
Inside the file was a diagram of my room, and then another, more detailed diagram of my desk. And it was completely up to date...like, it had the new monitor I'd just inherited from a friend (when he got a better one. He didn't die or anything) earlier that week.
It was obvious that no one had been in this room for years, so how did it have such current information? The paper looked brand-new; it wasn't even slightly yellowed.
I continued to flip through, and got more and more freaked out as I did. The 'organization' file included a complete hierarchy of my computers' contents. Somehow, whoever had put these files together knew the system that I
organized my porn system with.
Figuring I was sleep hallucinating or something like that, I returned the folder to the front of the drawer I'd pulled it from, and staggered out of there. I shut the door carefully, and went back into my bedroom, where I spent several more hours staring at my ceiling before eventually drifting off to sleep.
###
The next morning, when I woke up, I was easily able to convince myself that it had all been a dream. I'd had some insanely realistic dreams before, and they always felt like that. So plausible-seeming at the time, but looking back they just didn't make sense. One time, I'd imagined that I was a horse, but with my exact life: same parents, hot sister, bed...but I had four legs instead of two, and no arms. I remember getting really frustrated when I couldn't open the fridge with my mouth.
It was a Saturday, so my plans ranged from 'lounging around the living-room doing nothing', and 'hanging out in my bedroom, also doing nothing.' A quick glance at the clock told me two things: firstly, that it was askew, something which I quickly corrected; and secondly, that I'd slept in well past twelve.
On the way to the kitchen, I was unable to resist checking out the door, seeing if I'd imagined that
it
existed, or just what it contained...
Sure enough, there it was: a door that you had to hunch over to use, right across the hall from the bathroom. I must have seen it, and incorporated it into my weird dreams. I turned the handle and it opened easily, but I restrained myself from going in. I wasn't quite prepared to face whatever lay behind those doors, whether it was four inexplicably-labelled filing cabinets, or...I dunno, a haunted ventriloquists's dummy, ready to fuck my shit up for the next few days (and several sequels).
