Under_The_Whispering_Door_by_TJ_Klune

part of the original construction, though he didn’t know what it could lead to
aside from the roof.
“That’s where the Manager put it when he chose Hugo as a ferryman,”
Nelson said. “Hugo opens the door, and we rise to whatever comes next.”
“What would happen if I opened it?” Wallace asked, still staring at the
door.
Nelson sounded alarmed. “Please. Let me get Hugo.”
He tore his gaze away, looking back over his shoulder. Nelson was
worried, his brow furrowed, but there was nothing Wallace could do about
that now. He could barely move. “Can you feel it?”
He didn’t need to explain. Nelson knew what he meant. “Not always, and
not as strong as it was before. It fades over time. It’s always there, at the
back of my mind, but I’ve learned to ignore it.”
Wallace wanted to touch the door. He wanted to wrap his fingers around
the doorknob, to feel the tea leaf pressed against his palm. He could see it
clear in his mind: he would turn the tea leaf until the latch clicked, and
then …
What?
He didn’t know, and not knowing was the scariest thing of all.
He stepped back, bumping into Nelson, who grabbed his arm. “Are you
all right?”
“I don’t know,” Wallace said. He swallowed past the lump in his throat.
“I think I’d like to go back downstairs now.”
Nelson led him away.
The windows were dark as they descended the stairs. Outside, the forest
was as it’d always been.
Before they reached the landing to the third floor, he looked out the last
window to the long dirt road that led to the tea shop and strangely, a memory
flitted through his head, one that didn’t feel like his own. Of being outside,
face turned toward the warm, warm sun.
The memory faded, the night returning, and he saw someone standing on
the dirt road.
Cameron, looking directly at Wallace. He held out his arm, palm toward
the sky, fingers opening and closing, opening and closing.
“What is it?” Nelson asked him.
“Nothing,” Wallace said, turning away from the window. “Nothing at all.”