The Open Door

When his adopted son found him an hour later, the old man’s body was already cold. One of his wrinkled hands was clutching the fabric over his heart, but his eyes were fixed on the ceiling in a soft stare. The young man stood in the doorway for a long time before gathering up the courage to approach the man. He knelt next to him and touched Valère Henri’s face as a tear slowly made its way on the boy’s cheek. It slid softly down his neck and came to rest on his collarbone. With a sudden wave of anger that was foreign to him, he gripped the old man’s shirt and shook him roughly, begging him to please not be dead. But there was no denying it, Valère Henri was gone. And he was alone.

The old man stopped laughing and his face became serious. Slowly, he put down his slice of bread and pushed his plate to the side. He rested his elbows on the table and leaned forward, looking into Gabriel’s face. “You will never see Valère Henri again, even with this strange... ability that you have.” The face that was staring back at him made something crawl inside Gabriel’s chest and want to hide there. There was a depth in the old man’s eyes that couldn’t belong to anything living or anything good. It was something of pure evil and it seemed even more terrible in the pleasant setting of the café. Gabriel felt violated, not only inside his mind, but also in his memories.