The Only Rule - What Would You Do?

"There was only one rule: Don't open the door."

As you walk through a dense forest with your best friend, the leaves and overgrown grass rustle softly in the breeze. A warm, welcoming glow pours from the windows of a small thatched cottage up ahead. The inviting smell of freshly baked bread fills your lungs, but something feels off. You exchange uneasy glances as the woman’s warning at the forest entrance echoes in your mind.

What will you do?

Open the door? (Go to a)

Turn your back on the door? (Go to b)

Let your friend open the door? (Go to c)

a) You grip the door handle, as your heartbeat quickens. Dismissing the warning as a false threat, you push the door open. The warm glow vanishes. There’s just darkness. Before you can scream, an unseen force drags you deeper into the nothingness, as the door slams behind you.

b) Grinning, you turn your back on the door, proud of not playing twisted games. But as you step away, you hear gentle creaking. The warmth of the wood wraps around you and pulls you towards it. You try to fight and scream, but the door stretches your skin across its surface, coating it in your likeness. Your bones crack, assimilating with the wood. You feel everything. Your body and soul feeding the door, forever.

c) With a sly smile, you suggest your friend opens the door. “You do the honours!” They hesitate, but touch the handle, guilt twisting in your stomach. For a brief moment, nothing happens as they push the door open. Then, with terrifying speed, they are violently pulled inside. You glimpse sharp, shining blades and a large centrifuge spinning, before the door slams shut, their screams drowned out by the screeching of metal grinding flesh.