The following story is completely fictional. There is no such entity as “The Collectors.” There is no Door Demon. I have ventured too far.
I first heard of the rumors of OneCard theft in Mid-September. OneCards have been vanishing out of people’s phone cases and suit pockets. During Disco, our Editor in Chief herself had her OneCard plucked from her, as did many others. She told me to
be careful in my investigation as she had heard some…suspicious rumors…something deeply unnerving.
I did not heed her warning. My curiosity became my bane. Like a door-to-door salesman, I pestered everybody about the OneCard theif. Some said that it is that one kid with an unhealthy obsession for hard, green rectangles; some said that it is a crime syndicate called “The Collectors” who trade rare OneCards like prized baseball cards; some said that it is some-
thing supernatural, an unsightly beast shaped like a gigantic door, seen hopping down the hallways in Barton.
Eventually, I came across a clue, a recurring name, the name of a senior who graduated last year. Apparently, he had a thing for other people’s OneCards and had amassed an entire collection of them, which he bestowed upon another student after he left. Allegedly, that student had continued the legacy of theft. This was it! I had thought.
When I approached the student, they calmly denied every allegation with a stone face. As I turned away to leave, I felt a cold hand on my shoulder and a whisper in my ear. “Some of your ‘Scroll’ buddies have been asking about this too recently. I’m gonna tell you the same thing I told them. Watch where you’re going, because if you keep your sights on me you never know where you’re gonna trip.”
“Is that a threat?”
“No. I won’t do any harm to you. But I can’t say the same for ‘The Collectors.’ They have heard about you.”
Around 7:06 pm that evening, a printed photo slipped under my door. It depicted a wall, filled with stolen OneCards arranged in an odd pattern that vaguely reminded me of the occult, almost like a summoning ritual. It was signed “The Collectors.” I couldn’t believed it. It was a gift, straight from these elusive “Collectors.” Maybe they were not so evil after all.
That night, I was woken up by an eerie noise. The photo was
glowing with a sinister green ame. Paralyzed on the bed, I watched in helpless horror as a hideous green door emerged from the photo. It was six feet tall, made from hard oak wood painted Deerfield green. I could not move. I could not scream. All I could do was feel my heartbeat thunder in unison as the Door Demon slowly hopped towards me like Super Mario. Jump, jump. As it towered over me, I braced myself… “STAY…AWAY” It spoke with a
sickening creak, like the screech of a chalk scraped across a black-board. I blacked out.
The next morning, I woke up in my bed, thinking that it was all a nightmare. When I picked up my phone.
My OneCard was gone.