A/N: I am working on French Kiss and Dust n' Boots. I promise. They'll be updated soon. As for now, here is another horror one-shot.

The Black Door

The instant Alvin saw it, he was afraid of it. It was tall, nearly eight feet tall and about three feet wide. It was black, jet black. It was big, dark, and in his bedroom.

Alvin was 22. Three years earlier, he had moved out of his old house, bought an apartment and even got a job at a diner.

The apartment wasn't too old, maybe fifteen or twenty years, but Alvin liked it and knew that he would be comfortable in it. That is, until he saw that door.

The day he moved in, while Dave and Simon were moving all of his stuff in, Alvin went up the stairs to take a look at his new bedroom. When he walked into the room, he saw the door. He was stopped in his tracks, feeling a sudden wave of uncertainty. He left the room and went to help move the boxes, not returning to the room for the rest of the day.

He never used the door. He kept some old clothes behind that door on racks. Suits, ties, dress pants, just some random formal stuff he hardly used. He was just a cook, so he never really needed them unless he was to get a job interview. Luckily, he was able to stay with this diner for a long time.

Alvin hadn't opened that door for three years. Why don't I just get rid of it? He often thought. If I don't like it, why keep it?

Don't be an idiot! His thoughts argued back. It's just a door. It would be really stupid to get rid of it because it made you uncomfortable.

"Heh, yeah." Alvin rapped his knuckle against the door as he stood in front of it, "I'm not afraid of you. You're just a big piece of wood. All you got behind you are some old clothes that probably don't even fit me anymore."

Alvin tried to laugh away his concern as he looked at the door. It seemed to tower over him; the two small panels at the top of the door seemed to angle down at him. For a moment, Alvin felt like it was looking right at him. He tried to laugh again, but he couldn't quite muster the humor. Instead, he gave it another rap and walked off. He had things to do, get ready for work, bills to pay, and people to see. He didn't have time to be afraid of a door.

XXX

A couple of nights went by after Alvin had "mocked" the door. The feeling of being looked down on didn't leave his thoughts for the rest of the week. For some reason he just felt… watched by the door.

Alvin lay in bed one night, parallel to the door, staring at it. The door was hidden in the darkness, with only it's brass knob to let him know it never moved.

He stared for some time, looking directly at it. Alvin felt like he was in a staring contest with the door. The two just looked at each other, waiting for the other to make a move. They waited until one of them broke the stare.

They stared for a long time before Alvin finally blinked. When he did, he expected the door to suddenly swing open and reveal some sort of monster. Nothing happened, the door simply stood there, looking at him, looming over him. A chill ran down his spine and he finally turned away. Alvin fell asleep, but not after several glances back at the door.

XXX

Alvin woke up that morning with a headache. His head pounded like a death metal drum solo. He groaned and pressed down on the bed to feel something warm dampen his hands. He opened his eyes. There, on his pillow and down onto the white sheets, was a pool of blood. He sat up, tearing his face away from the pillow. It was sticky from the dried blood. When he examined the sheets closer, Alvin saw drops falling from his nose.

"What the hell?" Alvin muttered. "A bloody nose?" He quickly stood up from his bed and ran to the bathroom. He ran in and looked at himself in the mirror.

The left half of his face, mostly the cheek and mouth area, was dark red and brown and two streams of blood still dripped from his nose. Alvin held up his nose, feeling around the bathroom for some toilet paper. He found some and quickly plugged his nose up in a hurry. The toilet paper stopped the blood and he was able to sigh in relief. He felt dizzy though and when the crisis ended, his headache decided to take center stage again.

With another groan, Alvin wandered into his bedroom and called in sick. I can't go to work like this, he thought.

Alvin called his boss, and with the toilet paper in my nose, he sounded more convicting. His boss told him to call someone, so Alvin called Simon.

"Hello?" Simon's voice answered.

"Hey, Simon. It's Alvin." Alvin said, his head pounding. "Listen man, I'm feeling like shit and I need you to come in for me, alright?" Simon, too, worked at the diner.

There was a silence on the phone. He was probably nodding. Simon had a stupid tendency to do that, like he thought the phone had video or something. Finally he responded.

"Yeah, yeah sure." He said with a yawn.

"Thanks man, I'll take Friday for ya, if you'd like."

"I would like that, Alvin. Thanks."

"Yeah, I'll talk to ya later." Alvin hung up. There, I had the day to get cleaned up and for my head to feel better, he thought.

As he laid his phone back on the base, he noticed something odd. There was a sheet missing from his bed. Figuring he just kicked it off as he slept, Alvin took a look around the bed. Nothing. Not under the bed, not behind it, not around it. Alvin looked all over and couldn't find it. With a sigh, he sat down on the bloody bed.

What a day, and I just woke up. Alvin's headache pounded as he tried to think, tried to calm down. He felt like crap, but he also felt nervous for some reason. A bloody nose and a headache then his sheet is gone. Alvin pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. What a fucking day.

Alvin looked up, intent on some aspirin…and noticed something else. His closet door wasn't closed all the way. He could tell because the latch rested on the outside of the frame. Now he was really freaking out.

Alvin stood up, in nothing but his boxers, and approached the door. He slowly reached for the handle. He looked up at those two panels and again, they seemed to angle down at him, staring him dead in the eye. He hesitated and took a step back. Why was it open and why am I so scared of it? It was just a door. Nothing to be scared of. And yet, he was. He was absolutely terrified of this door right now.

Dawn was just creeping through the window. Alvin gripped the door handle. There was nothing, absolutely nothing to be scared of. He told myself this probably a million times as his hand shook on the knob. The quaking knob made small rattling noises as the latch vibrated against the frame. Finally, he took a deep breath, made a tight fist, and swung open the door.

Inside was the five jackets, dress shirts, dress pants, and two pairs of shoes he wore for interviews. They were all aligned and straight on the rack they hung on by their hangers. Just as he had left them three years ago. Alvin looked down. There was his sheet under the coats. It was folded up neatly into a perfect square.

One word raced across Alvin's mind a thousand times. How? He didn't know, and he didn't think he wanted to know. Mustering his courage again, he reached down and grabbed the sheet then shut the door tight. He must've used more force than usual, as the door shut with a small slam. He jumped in response, but stood his ground otherwise.

Alvin looked back up at the two panels and remained still. They looked back. They seemed to be waiting for some sort of response to his findings. After a few short minutes, he finally left the room.

XXX

The day pressed on. Alvin was downstairs, cleaned up and feeling better. His headache was gone. He was sitting on the couch watching TV. He was watching some documentary. It was about the civil war and how Sherman marched through Atlanta burning all in his path.

Next to him in a chair was the sheet he found in the closet. He didn't take the time to put them back on the bed, nor did he take the bloody sheets and pillow to be washed. He also didn't intend to sleep up there anyway. Yet, it seemed his venture to avoid the door was not something he was destined.

As a man talked about how Sherman planned to burn Atlanta to the ground, Alvin heard something that made his blood run cold. A loud slam echoed through the emptiness of his apartment. It was a fierce slam, like someone who was running for their life would slam a door in front of a killer. Or like how a child looking for attention would slam their parent's door.

Alvin jumped up from the couch and look up the stairs leading to his room. The slam echoed in his ears a few times as he gazed up, unable to move. He was not just scared anymore. He was terrified. Something was in his house, something hid behind that door. And that something wanted his attention.

"Hello?" He called out. He wasn't sure how he was able to muster the courage to call out into the empty room. He wasn't even sure why he thought he'd get answer. He didn't and the house was silent once again. Alvin's nerves were not settled however.

He took a few steps forward, his socks whispering on the pale carpet. He stopped and nothing continued to happen. Alvin licked his lips, as they were incredibly dry. He then jogged. He couldn't believe how fast he decided to see the door. His body felt like it was on autopilot as he skipped up steps to his room.

Alvin flew past the bathroom and suddenly found himself at the doorway leading to his room. He looked around the corner. There was the door. It was shut tight, no latch left out. Alvin slowly stepped into his room. Those two panels watched his every move like the eyes of a hawk, or that of a demon. Alvin looked at them as he continued. Every few steps, he paused to listen and watch. Nothing happened.

Then, Alvin was at the door. He looked up at the panels again. This time something else caught his eye. It was a long streak. The door was covered with them, but this one was larger than the rest. The streak extended between the two panels and curved.

It was smiling at him.

XXX

Alvin was downstairs again. This time with a beer in his hand, the quilt over him, and his head on the arm of the couch. The time was 11:30pm. Alvin was watching Die Hard.

He sat, his eyes blank and his body cold. He was very cold now. He even wore his red jacket under the quilt and was still shivering.

Alvin watched as explosions came off the screen, as gunfire was passed back and forth between Bruce Willis and some terrorists. He watched, his body shivering yet still. He took a drink of the beer only every five minutes, on the minute.

He watched…and waited. He knew he was waiting for something. For the door to do something, yet he couldn't leave. Alvin didn't feel the need yet. He felt distant, actually. He felt like he was watching himself watch TV. He only ever came back to the present whenever the five minutes came up. Alvin watched TV and kept an ear out for something.

At 12:00 midnight, just as Alvin drank his beer, he heard what he was waiting for. The walls shook, the ground quaked, and his heart stopped. There was another loud slam, but it wasn't over yet. That slam was followed by another, and another, and another. The pace was slow at first, but it picked up quickly. It was almost like listening to a giant smash against a wall over and over again.

Alvin's body moved faster than he ever thought he could. His hair standing on edge, his legs kicking off the quilt, his hands grabbed the keys to his car. He ran for the door, taking a look up the stairs as he did so. The slamming continued throughout the process.

Alvin ran out the door and to his car. Then he drove away. He drove so fast, so fast to get away from the slamming. It continued in his head. Pounding, over and over and over again. It just wouldn't stop. The pounding mixed with the alcohol in his head made it so that he couldn't concentrate. He just heard the slamming of his closet door over and over again, like a jackhammer. It pierced his mind and broke his sanity. He began to laugh and laughed even louder as he watched a pair of headlights rush into his car.

XXX

I'm not so sure I like this one… Meh. I've had it for a while and just converted it to Alvin and the Chipmunks. Thanks for reading.

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