text: I noticed the door a few days ago. It was bright yellow, nearly impossible to miss unless you were just blind. It had a sign on the front: “Caution: Active Construction Zone.” The rule was clear, and I wasn’t one to break the rules. I continued walking, noticing the faint sound of metal clanking coming from inside. It wasn’t disturbing or scary in any way. The sign was loud and clear, it was a construction site. The next day, as I was on my way to the bakery, I heard voices coming from inside. Echoing syllables that I couldn’t quite make out. It was as if they were almost words, but some piece was missing. Typical of a construction site to have workers, no need for alarm. Although, I couldn’t help but feel a bit uneasy about what I was hearing on the other side. The sounds, those strange grunts that were one vowel away from being a proper word, seemed to echo through my head as I tried to sleep that night, instigating curiosity. The enigma behind those disembodied grunts had me in its grasp. I had to know what was making such otherworldly sounds. As I walked by the door the following day, I noticed a bench across the narrow, brick paved road. It was vacant, and gave a perfect view of the metal door. It would be the perfect spot to conduct a little stakeout. I perched upon the bench, seating myself inconspicuously on the right side. The metal armrest gave me the perfect opportunity to appear nonchalant as I scrolled through my phone without purpose. My eyes would shoot up as crowds of people walked by the door, waiting for anyone to open it and walk in. After dozens upon dozens of pedestrians walked by without so much as acknowledging the yellow eyesore, I felt my curiosity burning. There had to be someone, anyone who worked at this so-called “active construction site.” After another half hour of sitting and waiting, and losing count of the pedestrians who walked by without entering, I’d begun to grow impatient. In the whole span I’d sat in that seat, from 10am to 12pm, not a single person entered or exited the door. Yet, I could still hear sounds coming from inside. A repetitive hammering of metal beating against metal coupled with those inconceivable sounds that had no place in the English language. What was in there? How were the people getting in and out? Was there a second door that I didn’t know about? Yeah, that had to be it. There was just a second door. If I went around to the other side of the building I’d find a metal door, probably the same color with the same sign. So I walked. I circled the block, going from Fourth Street, where I’d been posted up, over to Fifth. As I walked halfway down the block, estimating where the adjacent door might be, I was met with a brownish-red brick. No door. No, no, no this couldn’t be. This can’t be possible. There has to be somewhere for people to get in. Somewhere for them to get out. The door couldn’t exist without ever opening. The thought raced across my mind that, perhaps in the time I’d spent walking the block, a handful of people had entered or exited. Perhaps I was missing it! “No!” I shouted, bolting down the street through crowds of pedestrians. I received concerned glances, furrowed eyebrows, and mumbled curses as I pummeled my way through the groups of people. When I finally found my way back to the door, I hesitated. I didn’t know if I should be the one to tear it open. To be the one who discovers what is really going on. It felt as if I’d begun a descent into madness. My mind raced back and forth with possibilities. Perhaps it was just a construction site down there. Maybe I’d open the door just to find a crew of greasy men in white tank tops and yellow hard hats smashing away at something with sledgehammers. But what if it was more? What if whatever was down there was some sort of secret begging to be revealed. The Illuminati’s secret base of operations, or the remnants of the UFO crash in Roswell, New Mexico all those years ago. It was my civic duty to make it known to the world! I grasped the handle, smooth and cool in my hand, and slowly depressed it. As it fell in a counterclockwise motion until it was perpendicular to the ground, my heart began speeding. Blood rushed rapidly through my veins and caused my face to begin burning, ever so slightly. A bead of sweat formed on my brow. Anticipation and anxiety gripped me and my breathing became shallow. I pulled the door. “No...” I said, in utter defeat and disappointment. “No, no, no... NO!” I’d begun to shout, attracting the attention of passers-by. The constant drumming of metal on metal had grown louder, but what was on the other side of that door was nothing more than a brick wall. An identical brick wall to the one over on Fifth. That door that I’d grown so curious of was nothing. Upon closer examination I’d found that it was simply leaning against the wall, not attached to anything. It wasn’t at all possible. It couldn’t be. I could hear that droning. The sounds of people murmuring those strange consonants playing in my ears. A group of teens walked by, mumbling to themselves. The sounds seemed so familiar. They were like distant echoes of strange syllables that didn’t quite make words. I had no clue what was going on. Why were they talking like that? I needed to know. “Excuse me,” I said, stepping in front of the boy who led the group. He was a bit off-put, staring at me in contempt. Then I heard a sudden and extremely loud POP. I winced as the high pitched squeal echoed through my head. I grabbed at my ears, covering them tightly in an attempt to halt the static noise that accompanied the pop. I turned my gaze back toward the teen as he looked to his friends, appearing to mouth something followed by a silent laugh. His friends joined in. “What is going on?!” I shouted, unable to comprehend. Another group approached from behind me, silent. As an older man put a hand on my shoulder I jumped, startled by his sudden appearance. I stepped back, pressing myself against the wall as he silently mouthed words to me. Was I going crazy? Had I finally lost it? He pulled out his cell phone and dialed something, looking at me as he spoke on his phone. The words were void of any sound now. There weren't even the strange groans I’d been hearing before. All sound seemed to be absent. After a few minutes, I saw red flashing lights approaching. An ambulance. Two men jumped from the front cab, removing a small case as they hurriedly came toward me. Their mouths moved silently, and I assumed they were asking questions. I simply returned with a gesture of pure confusion, shrugging my shoulders and letting my jaw hang open, dumbfounded. They looked at each other, exchanging a look of disconcert before turning back toward me. One man, a burly guy with stylish hair, approached holding a medical tool. An otoscope, as I’d learned it was called. He placed the hammer-like tool in my ear. After removing it he looked at me and slowly, exaggeratedly mouthed the words “Can you hear me?” I shook my head. He nodded before removing a small memo pad from his breast pocket. He pulled a pen as well and scribbled something down. “Sudden deafness.