Years ticked by after that moment, and I grew stronger while my Grandma grew weaker. However, despite all those years, I still visited her house often.

It had just been another one of those days. I had finished work and driven to her house, but as I stood outside her front door, something felt different, but I had no idea why. My fist hovered inches from the weathered wood, twitching slightly, almost hesitant, before proceeding to knock on the door.

Usually I could hear the shuffling of my Grandma’s feet down the creaky hallway, or the occasional shout, but today there was only silence. Maybe she was asleep? I knocked again. This time the knock echoed in my mind, amplified by the eerie quiet. The stillness crawled up my skin, and I began to feel alone and afraid.

My heartbeat quickened, as I began to pound on the door, calling out my Grandma’s name in between knocks, but the only response I received was the silence that screamed in my ears. Panic surged through me, as I hastily reached for the doorknob. It was unlocked, and I wrenched the door open.

A brisk breeze greeted me at the door, as I stared down the all too familiar hallway. I called out my Grandma’s name once more, but to no response. I stood there, petrified, as I decided what I should do. I began to search the house, hoping with every fibre of my body that she was safe. But I was still terrified at what I might find.

As I strode past, I turned my head to quickly look into the living room. But it was empty, except for the cluttered furniture that filled the tight space. There were far more worn lounge chairs than necessary, and quite some many side tables, all facing the same old-fashioned television.

As I marched down the hallway toward the kitchen, I stopped abruptly. My breath caught in my throat. I had seen it through the corner of my eye, but I knew it couldn’t be possible. I was still facing the direction of the kitchen, as I began to step backwards, without daring to turn my head.

I could hear my breath coming in and out in sharp movements, and in that moment, I felt as if it was the only thing keeping me from collapsing. Dread engulfed me, but I knew that I had no choice but to look. My heart beats felt unsteady, and a lump had developed in my throat. I gulped it down, preparing myself for what I may find, before turning my head.

There, standing in front of me, was an open door. I sucked in a quivering breath, for that wasn’t just any open door. It was a door, that for my entire lifetime at least, had never been opened before. And now it stood, hanging loosely on its hinges, as if now that it had been opened, it would never close again.

The memory of the day I had first seen it was sharp in my mind. I remember my excitement at potentially discovering the room’s contents. But now when I finally had the opportunity to find out, I felt like running away, leaving the truth far behind me, but my eternal love for my Grandmother was far more powerful than the fear that gripped me in that moment.

I took a step forward, my legs shaking unstably, as my eyes strained to see within the door, without having to walk closer. But all I could see was complete darkness, which camouflaged anything its midst.

I gathered up any courage I had in me, and stepped forward, as my body shook uncontrollably. I had reached the doorway. Despite the darkness, I saw a shape. It was smothered in black, blending in with the dark that covered the rest of the room, making it impossible to tell where the room actually ended. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, the shape appeared deformed, almost crumpled.

Curiosity overwhelmed me, and I stepped toward the figure. My breath hitched in my throat. I felt my own heart splinter into two. The entire outside world was completely muted, as cold tears streamed down my cheeks with grief. The blackness in the room blurred, making the shape undistinguishable. I felt my knees slowly fall to the cold, stone ground, and the noise echoed distantly in my mind. And I knew in that moment, that curiosity hadn’t just killed the cat.