Consciousness returned slowly, pulling me unwillingly from the comforting oblivion of sleep into an unfamiliar reality filled with a heavy, suffocating presence. My eyelids were weighted as if anchored by invisible chains, resisting every attempt to open them fully. Gradually, through sheer force of will, my vision cleared enough to take in my surroundings.

  I found myself in a stark, oppressive room—gray walls, blank and featureless, stretched endlessly upward, curving slightly inward at the corners as though to trap me. There were no windows, no decorations, just cold, unfeeling concrete pressing against me from every side. The floor beneath my prone body felt hard and bitterly cold, sending chills deep into my bones. The air was thick and stale, saturated with the smell of aged, musty buildings, tinged with the sickening sweetness of decay and mold.

  Panic began to creep stealthily into my chest, gradually building into an overwhelming force. My pulse quickened, breath coming in shallow, rapid bursts as memories flooded back to me—the cottage, the eerie copper door, the dreadful moment I’d made my defiant choice. My stomach churned, nausea rising again the after effects of too much whiskey reminding me why I did not drink, as I struggled to stand, limbs weak and trembling beneath me.

  Directly ahead, starkly contrasting the monotonous gray, stood a single copper door. Its surface gleamed faintly under an unseen source of illumination, the familiar intricate carvings unmistakable: a cityscape ravaged, buildings reduced to skeletal frames, streets cracked and lifeless. The image evoked a visceral sense of dread, intensifying my anxiety until it threatened to spiral uncontrollably.

  Suddenly, a harsh, fluorescent light illuminated a section of the wall above the copper door, pulling my panicked gaze sharply upward. A flat, digital screen flickered to life with a brief, disorienting hum, its presence alien and intrusive in the stark emptiness of the room. Text began scrolling steadily across the screen, letters glowing a cold, impersonal blue:

  “Welcome, traveler. You have arrived in a world of uncertainty and peril. Beware—the rules governing this space are unforgiving. You may transfer items between realms, but severe monetary restrictions apply, exacting a 10% monetary penalty per item. The path ahead is singular and you must wait at least 48 hours before you can use the transfer door again—the copper door before you is your only means of exiting this room. Its destination remains unknown and potentially perilous. Your survival rests solely upon your decisions. Proceed with caution.”

  The message faded abruptly, leaving me engulfed in silence, save for the pounding of my heart echoing painfully in my ears. The oppressive atmosphere closed around me tighter, pressing down on my shoulders, suffocating me. My knees buckled suddenly, and I sank to the cold floor, chest heaving uncontrollably as panic fully gripped me.

  I curled into myself, overwhelmed by raw, uncontainable panic. Time lost all meaning as terror gripped me fully, my thoughts dominated entirely by the suffocating reality of the situation—the featureless room, the unyielding walls, Minutes, perhaps hours, dragged on painfully, my awareness dulled by exhaustion and lingering fear. Gradually, the suffocating grip of panic began to ease slightly, replaced by a numb resignation.

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  I waited in restless silence, every passing second amplifying my anxiety, tightening the invisible noose around my chest. The sterile grayness of the room pressed down relentlessly, amplifying my growing claustrophobia.

  Eventually, an object lying forgotten caught my peripheral vision, nestled in a shadowed corner of the room. It was the brass skeleton key, the same key whose sharp edges had earlier bitten painfully into my thigh. A sudden rush of adrenaline surged through my veins, drawing me forward, a mix of apprehension and curiosity driving my shaking steps.

  My trembling fingers closed around the cold metal, its solidity a stark reminder of the surreal reality I found myself trapped within. Holding it carefully, I stared once more at the copper door my curiosity was peaked what could my grand father and father been hiding beyond, the intricate carvings beckoning me toward an uncertain fate. Anxiety tightened painfully in my chest, crawling slowly upward into my throat, choking me with fear.

  Drawing a ragged breath, I forced myself to move toward the copper door, my heart pounding erratically with each hesitant step. The key slipped smoothly into the lock, the metallic click echoing loudly within the suffocating stillness. My fingers tightened involuntarily around the handle, breath hitching as I turned it slowly.

  The copper door swung inward with an eerie, slow creak, revealing a view that froze me instantly in place, heart stuttering in panic and disbelief. A sudden gust of fresh air rushed through the opening, cool against my clammy skin, filled with the scent of dust, decay, and something disturbingly metallic. Beyond the door was a city—no my city, transformed into an unrecognizable nightmare of ruin.

  Skyscrapers loomed like skeletal giants, their frames darkened by soot, their windows blown out entirely or reduced to jagged shards clinging desperately to their frames. Glass lay scattered in countless glittering fragments across sidewalks cracked and ruptured, nature reclaiming its lost territory as stubborn tufts of grass forced their way through the broken concrete.

  The air was filled with an eerie symphony—the whistling of wind gusting mournfully through empty windows and the hollow groan of twisted metal shifting slowly in the wind’s grip. Streets were littered with vehicles, abandoned and wrecked, their metal bodies covered thickly in layers of dust. Several cars bore unsettling streaks and smears of a flaky, brownish substance, suggestive of dried blood and forgotten tragedies.

  Shopfronts and buildings lining the sidewalks were hollow shells of their former selves. Their lower floors lay in ruin, windows shattered, doorways gaping open like silent screams, interiors dark and foreboding. Empty storefronts hinted at lives abruptly halted, the remnants of mundane existence scattered across floors visible through broken openings.

  I stepped hesitantly forward, shoes crunching sharply on the debris-strewn sidewalk, eyes wide and darting frantically as panic crawled insistently back up my throat. My breath came in short, rapid gasps, each inhalation filled with desperation and dread. The overwhelming devastation pressed heavily upon me, stealing the air from my lungs, threatening to drown me in despair.

  What had happened here? How had my city—once alive, vibrant, noisy—been reduced to this eerie wasteland of ruin and decay? Questions spun chaotically through my mind, unanswered and unanswerable, intensifying the panic gripping tightly around my throat. I felt trapped, overwhelmed, utterly alone amidst the wreckage of my familiar world.

  Steeling myself against the rising wave of terror, I stepped forward once more, driven by a primal instinct to understand, to find something familiar within the chaos and destruction, my breath hitched each one labored with fear, as I navigated the chilling remains of a city that was both hauntingly familiar and devastatingly alien.