The unopened door, part 1

It was the gloom about the unopened door, a sort of maleficent haze which hung upon the entranceway itself, which first caught my eye. I had been looking for a simple retreat, a quiet respite from the untamed energy of city living.

It had not been my intention to abandon entirely the great Metropolis, but merely to find some peaceable corner in which my tired soul could rest, a still and silent refuge beyond the harsh glare and exuberance of the collective urban hive.

I had been thinking of a cheerful cottage, something prim and proper, tended perhaps by some efficient local retainer, a simple dwelling that might catch the fancy of my eye. Yet in an instant, all such thoughts were thrown aside.

It was, I realize now, the gloom about the unopened door, the dark spectre of its mystery, which drew me in, and played at once upon my inquisitive fancy. At first sight of this apparition, an almost childlike curiosity took hold of me. In that very moment was my decision made.

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