Door into the Dark

I never spied a single person come nor go. Each time I found myself before that dread door, I was alone and yet more than once I fancied I might summon the courage to knock upon its oaken mass, or reach down to press the worn brass handle. Alas, without fail I was filled in the final moments by a feeling of such dread, of such dark foreboding, that I dared not even raise my hand. It disquiets me still to recall myself in that long, chill corridor, before that cursèd door. MP