The Corridor

 June 7^th, 1887

          They say you only recognize the value in what you have once you have lost it. The examples given are universal human treasures that have the chance to be revoked: Life, loved ones, the ability to walk, see, or touch. It is a reasonable claim, and it holds true even now.

          Yet, I cannot imagine any man who spoke these words to expect to miss the promise of a simple doorway.

          Doors are simple objects. They contain a few pieces of wood and metal designed to contain the air, temperature, and sound between rooms. They imply a sense of privacy.

          But above all, they promise consistency. When you open a door for the first time, what lies on the other side may be a surprise. But the second time? The sixth? The seventieth? Each subsequent opening promises to be the same room. Mayhaps the contents of the room itself will change, mayhaps the room will contain more doors or more people, but that is not the promise of the door. The door promises only that same room. That same space.

          And now that promise is gone. Five days previous, I opened my study door on the way out and found that the familiar walkway and barrister above the common area had been replaced with a dark and abysmal corridor, with dark marble-like walls and a checkered tile, illuminated only by a hidden white light behind the overhead tile.

          Now, I am no fool. I did not step foot into this passageway with little regard to the safety of myself or the continued safety of my dear Charlotte. As the image outside my window remained the same, it was through there which I departed and made my way into the main body of the house. The rest of the structure remained unchanged. In the garden I found her, mingling with the flowers she treasures, with not even a thought as to what may have possessed me to climb on the walls of our home.

In revisiting my study, I found that I could enter it with naught even a whisper of difficulty, and so long as the door remained open, the door would lead only to the walkway. However, upon closing the door, something occurs. I know not what, or how, for it has no visual fingerprint or sound to note the occurrence, but in that moment the other side of the door is only that cold, distant corridor, regardless of how many times I re-open and close the door.

It brings me peace to know that so long as I am in my study, Charlotte will never wander into that corridor by accident. But since this discovery I have spent every ounce of energy and every tool at my disposal, save entry itself, to determine the nature of the door. I have thrown gems into the passageway and there they sit. I have thrown a fishing line, but it was severed upon trying to return it. To view it simply, the gateway is in a single direction. Not even a single atom may make a return trip, for any that tries is immediately severed of the bond it bears.

I know nothing of where in the world, if in our world it may be, that this corridor resides. During one of my many sessions, a rat darted into the corridor. It can easily be said that it survived the trip, but even a creature of its limited spatial understanding recognized the discord between how it got there, and its inability to return. It ventured down the corridor to the first turn, which goes to the right, and vanished. I have not seen it since. I know not if it lived or died, but I believe I can say with certainty that it is not simply a dead-end.

 

June 7^th, Continued.

I have briefed my daughter on the situation, and to a mix of my pleasure and fear, she shares my curiosity about the door. I have explained to her all my discoveries, and she naturally suggested we both make a journey through the gate ourselves.

We have prepared: Bags with food; paper, pens, and inkwells for notes and maps; all the scientific equipment we could carry in one bag, and a small bundle of our personal favorites in literature.

Let it be understood by any who come upon this journal that we have left voluntarily, to seek the mysteries behind this gate like the minds of science and investigation we believe ourselves to be.

Do not enter the passageway lest you expect never to return the way you came.

And I’d say, do not enter the passageway unless you expect never to return at all.

May we reap what we sow.