The Ghost Door | Flash Fiction #booksky

The Ghost Door comes from Ruth at Ruth Blogs Here. I just knew there was a story here when Ruth posted it to say the blog would be blank for a few days. It turned out to be 900 words long.

The Ghost Door

Most times when I walked past the wall I didn’t notice it. Once I’d seen it, I couldn’t forget it. It preyed on my mind when I was trying to get to sleep. Not quite enough to keep me awake, just to make me unsettled, nervous of the night ahead.

I should not have worried about the nights.

Everything was normal. Worked continued, the usual upsets when things weren’t delivered on time, or people failed to arrive for appointments. 

The turning point was the day when nobody arrived for an appointment.

At first we laughed about it, had another cup of coffee. Then the next didn’t turn up… then the next.

“Did you actually confirm the interviews?” my boss asked.

“I’m sure I did…” but I made that look with my eyes and she watched as I went back to my screen and checked.

“Yes, sent out at the end of last week. All marked as read.”

“It was a good idea of yours to use that receipt system.” That’s one of the things I like about my boss. Gives you credit for good ideas. “Could you check the transport systems are all running okay?”

I did, of course. No known problems. But four people, invited for a face-to-face interview for a good job, not like the usual ematching services… “Do you think they didn’t believe it, the real interview thing?”

“Surely not all four… Well, if any of them turns up, with a good excuse, they’ll get the job.” 

It was so strange, I suggested I took a walk along the canal, which was the short cut from both the bus stop and the station. My boss agreed.

It was pleasant by the canal. Sometimes the wind blasted you from the Arctic, sometimes the drunks had a field day and slept it off against the white painted walls. Today there was a cluster of people quite close to the place in the wall that had been haunting me.

I joined them.

“Is something going on here? It’s usually very quiet.”

“Oh, no, nothing. It just seems we’ve all been the victim of some hoax or other.” He was smartly dressed, carrying his tablet in an unobtrusive pouch.

“Yeah, and I was early so I met the others,” she said, wrapping her joyfully outrageous scarf around her neck and shoulders to fight off the wind.

“And the other guy came out, and we couldn’t work out how to get in.” The third was also tidily dressed, with a sheepskin coat of some age, and a strong highland accent.

“Where did the other guy go?” I asked.

“Back to the bus stop. He was muttering something like ‘too good to be true,’” the woman said.

“Um, I don’t suppose you all three were due for an interview at Dunvedan’s today, were you?” I asked.

They looked at each other, and virtually chorused the answer. “Yes.”

The girl got out her mobile. “Dunvedan’s, 3 Canal Wharf Lane.” The men agreed. That was the address.

“That is the address.” I said. “It’s that red door down there.”

Various exclamations, protests that this door had a ‘3’ on it, and one that it said ‘Dunvedans’. “It did, I assure you.” The first candidate was most upset.

We stood back as far as we could, given the proximity of the canal, and gazed at the door. One pointed out a ‘3’, the other drew out the words Dunvedans on it. When they did that, I could see it. When they stepped back again, it was a blank wall, a ghost door, like it always had been.

“Well, I can see that it has some illusions on it, so why don’t you all come along to the right door, where my boss will be pleased to see you. I’m afraid there’ll be a little waiting around, but it’ll be warm, and we’ll probably find some sandwiches.”

I trooped in with the three candidates following. I felt like a bellwether with her flock. They settled down with hot drinks, while I went to explain.

“Well, they’re here, mostly. I hope the one that was first made it safely home.” My boss seemed remarkably calm about the whole thing.

“What do you think…”

“It’s the ghost door. It plays tricks sometimes. This seems to be one of them. It caught me the first time I came, so I’m ready to forgive anyone that falls for it. And the worst of it is that if the first person gets caught, all the others believe what they think they can see. You didn’t see it when you first came?”

“No, I came in the other way. Comes of living so close. I only saw it as a door the other day. It’s been haunting me ever since.”

“Yeah, the ghost door. There’s a tale behind it being walled up, but it’s best forgotten. Let’s get on with the interviews.”

The first two came out of their interviews looking relaxed, but sad. The girl went in, came out and looked ecstatic.

“That didn’t take long,” I commented to my boss.

“Well, my last question was — having met the ghost door, would you still take the job if offered it. She was the only one who said yes. Thank goodness.”

She started two weeks later. The ghost door behaved itself, mostly, from then on.

© J M Pett 2025