Urban Horror : Doors Short Story by Richard GK Stark, Page 3

to avoid aggravating his arm, where the Doctor gave him about fifteen stitches.

  “This is a really bad gash. Also I found some glass in the wound. How did you do this?” The Doctor asked him.

  Josh stuttered, until finally saying “I fell onto the coffee table.”

  “Fell? More like ran into! Mr Dagenham, I suggest you take the rest of the day off work and call me if the bleeding starts up again.”

  Josh was left to make his own way out of the Hospital. He rang the offices of Carbottle to tell them he was ill. It wasn’t a good start but they gave him the benefit of the doubt and told him to get some rest. Making his way out of the hospital, he walked through the Hospital’s entrance doors, but instead of finding himself outside he found himself in what looked an entrance hall to an apartment. Looking up at the walls he saw a photograph in which he recognised his ex-girlfriend. Somehow he had found himself in her flat.

  “Dreaming again.” He thought, but if this was a dream it was an exceptionally good one. “Before I wake up” he thought, “let’s take a look around.” He walked into her lounge and noticed that there was a cardboard box next to the entrance, full of what looked like his belongings – two pairs of shoes, a sweater, an iPod and a razor. He began to walk towards the bedroom when he heard the sound of a key turning and then the front door opening, followed by talking and footsteps.

  “Josh! How did you get in?” Said his ex-girlfriend, completely caught by surprise.

  “Umm, I’m not sure.” Said Josh, impressed by the vividness of the dream he was having.

  She walked further into the lounge followed by a tall, dark-haired man in his mid thirties.

  “No seriously, how did you get in? I’ve just had the locks changed.” She said suspiciously.

  “Uhhh, the door wasn’t locked so I let myself in.” Said Josh, suddenly realising the predicament he was in.

  “I don’t believe you.” She said.

  “Well it’s true.” He said, trying not to wince. However, despite being an excellent lawyer Josh was not the best liar in the world, certainly not up close, probably a hangover of conscience from when he was a child and had tried to deny throwing a cricket ball through his Dad’s greenhouse.

  “Well you can just take your belongings and leave. And don’t forget to leave the key behind, just in case you think you might be able to break into my house unannounced again.” Her stance had stiffened, and so had her boyfriend’s. Josh suddenly felt very awkward, and so picked up his belongings and started towards the front door when it suddenly occurred to him that none of this could be happening. He stopped, turned round and said “This is all just a dream you know, it’s not really happening.”

  “Get out!” His ex-girlfriend screamed at him.

  “You heard her. We don’t know what you’re playing at but just get out.” Said her new boyfriend, who grabbed Josh by his arm, the same one he had just had bandaged, and forcefully led him out of the house.

  “Oww. Let go. Can’t you see I’ve injured my arm?” Josh said, wincing in pain.

  “Get out!!” They both said in unison, pushing him out of the house.

  Josh picked up his things and began to walk home, which took about 15 minutes, trying to figure out what was happening. He had ended up in the Middle East because it was on the TV somehow, and now his girlfriend’s flat, so what was he doing just before. On both occasions he had just walked through a doorway, but why his girlfriend’s flat. He thought for a few moments then realised that as he left the hospital he was thinking of his ex-girlfriend. He must have been thinking of the Arab conflict (there’s always at least one) in his flat this morning. This was incredible. Somehow whenever he walked through a door he ended up where he was thinking of at the time.

  “That’s impossible.” He thought to himself, but how else could he explain recent events. That must have been what had happened the night before as well.

  As he approached his front door he decided to test this theory by thinking of his bedroom as he opened the door. Sure enough he found himself in his bedroom and not the hallway leading to his flat. He tested it again by focussing on the kitchen as he left the bedroom, and hey presto that’s where he found himself. As long as he focussed on the room he wanted to enter he was fine.

  The following morning he made his way to the new offices, trying to avoid as many doors as possible and concentrating on what he knew lay on the other side when one was unavoidable, such as his own front door. He agreed the new terms of his employment and settled into his new surroundings, making sure he was shown around the new office so that he knew where each door led to.

  In fact, he began to realise this new found ability could work to his advantage, as the following morning when he left home he was instantly transported to his new office simply by focussing on it.

  “This is brilliant. No more rush hour traffic.” He thought to himself. He began to realise that the benefits could be huge if he learnt to control this new found ‘power’. He began to fantasise that he was some kind of superhero, like in the comics he read as a child. For the rest of the week he continued like this, and started to really enjoy it.

  On the Friday he’d arranged to meet up with one or two mates from his previous firm who were eager to hear how his first week had been at Carbs. He still had some work to do but thought, as he knew the pub they were meeting in, he could leave it until the last moment then use his new ‘powers’ to transport him there. It worked. However, by the time he arrived at the pub his mates had moved onto another one, and all that there was in the pub were about half a dozen other men watching the news on TV. Josh rang his friends who told him where they were – not a place he recognised so he would have to walk there. As he left the pub Josh was oblivious to the newsreel on TV about a murderer who was on trial.

  “Put him in a Maximum Security Prison and leave him there to rot!” Shouted several of the other men in the pub, just as Josh was leaving.

  No sooner had he walked through the door than he found himself in a large room with dull, off-white looking walls and even duller, grey Formica flooring. In the room were about twenty or thirty men, all dressed identically in blue overalls and canvas soft-soled shoes milling around trying to amuse themselves. A few of them were playing pool just a few metres in front of him, whilst others were slouching on uncomfortable looking sofas watching a small TV screen fitted to the wall about three metres from the ground. As Josh tried to take in his surroundings the men initially ignored him, but one by one they turned round and began to stare at him, their eyes boring into his soul with curiosity but no compassion. Josh stood out in this crowd in his pin-striped suit, black leather shoes and silk tie.

  Eventually one of the men at the pool table looked up at him and said “Who the f*** are you ?!!”

  Josh was taken aback by this, particularly by the way it was said. He’d only occasionally been spoken to that briskly before, usually by defendants he was cross-examining when they were aggravated by his probing.

  “Well.” Said the man, about six feet tall with a skull and crossbones tattoo on his right arm.

  “Umm, sorry I must have taken the wrong door.” Said Josh.

  “He’s taken the wrong door!!” Said the man, turning to the other men in the room who all began to laugh.

  Another man, of mixed race in his thirties of slighter build but with a really untrustworthy face got up from his chair and said “You certainly did take the wrong door.” He then slowly began to move towards Josh, cocked his head slightly to the right and said insidiously

  “Which door should you have taken then?”

  “I don’t know.” Said Josh, slowly stepping back.

  Then the first man by the pool table moved towards Josh and said “Are you lost? Don’t worry. Let me show you the way.” At which he moved forward and grabbed Josh’s arm.

  “Ahhh, Do you mind? I’ve injured that arm.”
Said Josh, trying to sound calm and inoffensive. However this didn’t work, as his polite manner merely drew more attention to him than ever, as several more men began slowly moving towards him.

  “That’s a really nice watch you got there. Tell you what, give me that watch and I’ll let go of your arm.” The man said to Josh.

  Josh tried to free himself from his grip but he had never been physically very strong. In the meantime another man grabbed his other arm and said “And if you want me to let go of this arm then give me that ring that’s on your finger.”

  Josh tried to pull away towards the door that was behind him but more and more of the inmates were now showing an interest in this well-dressed man that seemed to be lost.

  “Help! Help!” Screamed Josh as his wristwatch was removed, followed by his ring which was ripped off so forcefully it nearly broke his finger.

  Realising Josh was unable to defend himself several other inmates now grabbed and pulled him to the ground. One of them put his hand over Josh’s mouth so the Guards wouldn’t hear his screams as the other inmates began removing his shoes and his tie, as well as emptying the contents of his jacket pockets to see what else they could steal, such as a wallet.

  “Look lads, he’s a bloody lawyer.” Shouted one of the inmates.

  “I hate lawyers.” Said the first guy from the pool table, who began punching Josh in