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The Door

It was another ordinary lockdown day until Megan, my dummy of a sister, kicked the ball that little bit too hard into the woods. I trudged off, sighing to myself. The ball had rolled to a stop in a tangle of bracken. It was only when I knelt to scoop it out that I noticed it.

At first glance, it seemed like an ordinary tree. Most ordinary people would’ve walked straight past it and carried on. But I didn’t. There ir was, a door, set in the base of the tree, concealed by large, gnarled roots. A tiny door! No more than ten centimetres high – up to my ankle. I must have walked past this tree a hundred times and never noticed this, not one bit. I stood there and stared, eyes wide and mouth open. Was it real? Surely not! Anyhow, what could possibly live inside the trunk of an old ash? I mean, insects and grubs, obviously. Nothing that needed a front door though, let alone with a letterbox!

I suddenly had an overwhelming urge to knock on the door. Just a tiny rap wouldn’t hurt, surely. ‘Go on, knock!’ I whispered to myself. Nah! I turned around, prepared to leave. ‘Don’t be so silly.’ I thought. Finally, curiosity got the better of me. I reached forward and gave the door a tiny knock. I waited… waited. As I was about to turn away, it creaked open. A pair of tiny eyes stared at me from the blackness…

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