The Shed Door

It shouldn’t have been open.

The wooden shed door, usually bolted with a rusty padlock, was slightly ajar. A sliver of darkness peered through the gap, like a secret begging to be uncovered. My brother, Jamie, nudged me, his eyes wide.

Outside, the dry country air stood still. The cicadas had gone silent. A thick, heavy heat pressed down, as if the whole backyard were holding its breath.

We were at Grandma’s house for the school holidays again. It was a handy option for our busy parents, who had just opened another restaurant in town. Gran’s house was tucked away in the middle of nowhere, three hours from the city. While she had her daily nap inside, we roamed her overgrown backyard, pretending to be explorers in a forgotten world.

That shed had always been off-limits. Always.

My heart began to beat unevenly, half from excitement, half from dread. I told myself we would just peek inside and leave. My brother grinned. I didn’t. Something about today felt... wrong.

…what happens next? You decide!