<Warning - contains swearing>

Doors are wondrous things. They are portals to the unknown, even if the room beyond is known. Something could be different. A wasp in your face. The ceiling fallen down. Last night's pizza ready for the new morning's breakfast. Or, a serial killer or ghost or long lost relative or your lover bending...

Anyway, doors lead into a future we are, as yet, unaware of.

This particular one, ornately carved in intricate shapes, was special. You could see that just by looking at it. Why else would it be so grand? If this was just to grant access to the broom cupboard or downstairs toilet, its majesty would be wasted. It would be like putting cream on a poo in said toilet bowl. Or, as my ma used to say, sugaring shit.

No, even without knowing, it had meaning. Intention. A story.

So, I grasped the large brass handle, which was cold to the touch in the warm evening air, and turned. It moved easily and, as I pulled, the enormous wooden artifact swung on silent hinges. A creak was too obnoxious in this situation. Only awed silence was deserved.

Once it was open, I frowned. The doorway was far too small for the door to fit. Even though, when I looked at the hinged edge, it was all in expected proportion, face on, the entrance was... normal. Something like six and a half feet by two and a half. Isn't that the standard? When the door was far from that, and so much bigger, it didn't make sense.

I turned from one to the other, edge to opening, and my eyes saw no transition or movement. Everything seemed fixed, but completely wrong. I blinked and rubbed my eyes. Squinted. Turned a full circle. Still, no change.

OK. Well, that was unexpected.

The room beyond was in complete darkness, with none of the light from outside – my side – encroaching over the threshold. I thought that was as strange as the misfitting door, but it didn't prevent me from wanting to stride over. Life was an adventure, wasn't it? Wasn't it better to leap before you looked, or the leap would become a retreat? That was what I'd always told myself, anyway.

I took a breath, let it out explosively so it could take my smouldering anxiety with it, and stepped forwards.

For a moment – surely only that – I was engulfed in darkness. It was absolute and I felt that, if I were to turn around, the place I'd left would no longer be visible. The moment dragged on, and it seemed as if I were moving through night. Not that of the end of the day, because that, naturally, would fade to become the next day. No, this was the night at the end of the universe. Or the beginning. Or every moment in between when someone closes their eyes. Then, I realised I hadn't moved. One step was all I'd taken.

I took another.

The darkness fell away, literally. I felt it detach from my senses as if wrenched. In its place was a room.

Now, given the splendour of the door, I think I could have been forgiven for expecting something similar once beyond it. I would have been – and was, actually – mistaken. 'Room' described it accurately, in that there was no adornment. Just the walled, floored and ceilinged container for me. There wasn't even a bulb hanging above me, so I couldn't tell where the light was coming from.

Oh, not just me, it seemed. Someone else was there. We noticed each other at the same time, which was odd in a room so featureless and small. Still, the presence of another was a surprise, so perhaps that was the reason...

"What the fuck are you doing here?" I said, clenching my fists.

At first, I was shocked at myself. I wasn't a violent person, so such anger was uncharacteristic. Then I remembered. He clearly did, too, as his fists clenched, then raised in preparation of an attack.

Fine, bring it on, bitch.

We circled each other, wary of any sudden movement. When none came, I leapt forwards first, as was my wont. My fist landed nicely in his eye socket, and I enjoyed the cracking sound of something breaking. He stumbled back, but didn't fall, instead using the wall behind him to propel himself at me. He was in the air, and I tried to move out of the way.

I wasn't fast enough, and he fell on top of me. His knee was up, and I felt it connect with my stomach. There was immediate agony as something – many things – burst.

I pushed him to the side and, as he made to stand, I brought my foot down, as hard as I could, and the side of his knee. He screamed and collapsed, but only for a second. With his damaged leg sticking at an awkward angle, he managed to stand. I punched, but he side-stepped, or side-hopped, at least, and repeated my foot action, except with his fists and my elbows.

I head butted him.

He ripped my ear off.

I bit his nose.

He...

Staggered, then fell.

He wasn't moving. Something greasy and odd coloured was leaking from his ears, and I noticed the eye I'd first hit was missing.

I lurched to him, but he was gone. In his place was a window that was so clear, I couldn't be sure it contained any glass. It was showing a scene on a road I recognised. Two cars, once, again, I recognised. Mine.

Two bodies, one with a smashed leg, and missing eye and nose, the other with shattered arms and only one ear – mine.

Both were dead, and I realised where I was and who he was.

Shit.

Next time I find a fancy door, I'll leave the fucker closed.