Nobody moved.

Nobody breathed.

The Mayor just kept smiling.

Brenda clenched her fists. “So, what—you expect us to just… pick a random door and hope for the best?”

The Mayor nodded. “That’s generally how doors work.”

Hassan frowned. “That is not how doors work.”

Jeremiah pointed to a particularly small door—barely knee-high, painted a sickly green. “What if we pick that one?”

The Mayor shrugged. “Then you live with the consequences.”

“That’s vague.”

“Life is vague.”

Mr. Wachira finally spoke, his voice calm but firm. “What’s behind these doors?”

The Mayor’s grin didn’t falter. “Possibilities.”

Jeremiah threw his hands up. “I hate this guy.”

Brenda ignored him. “And what’s stopping us from just… not choosing?”

The Mayor’s grin widened. “Nothing.”

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And that was what scared her most.

---

For a moment, they just stood there.

Twenty-one people.

Hundreds of doors.

Nothing but silence and the void pressing down on them.

Hassan muttered, “So, uh. Maybe we should think this through.”

Jeremiah crossed his arms. “Or we could just start kicking doors down.”

Brenda shook her head. “Terrible idea.”

“I don’t see you coming up with anything better.”

Before she could argue, another voice cut through the air.

“Well, we could always ask the cat.”

Everyone turned.

…The what now?

Standing near one of the rusted doors was a very large, very unimpressed-looking cat.

It sat like it had always been there. Like it belonged in this place more than they did.

The Mayor, still grinning, gestured towards it. “Ah. Good timing.”

The cat licked its paw. Yawned. Then spoke.

“None of you are smart enough to be here.”

Silence.

Jeremiah rubbed his eyes. “I’m sorry, did that cat just insult us?”

The cat blinked lazily. “I’ve seen milk cartons with more intelligence.”

Brenda took a deep breath. “Alright. Sure. Why not. Talking cat. That’s fine.”

Hassan, meanwhile, was staring at the cat like it had just insulted his mother.

“Listen here, you overgrown furball—”

The cat interrupted him. “No, you listen. You’re in a very dangerous situation. You need to pick a door, and you need to pick wisely.”

Jeremiah crossed his arms. “Or what?”

The cat flicked its tail. “Or the town will pick for you.”

Something about the way it said that sent a chill through Brenda’s spine.

---

The group muttered amongst themselves.

Someone in the back suggested picking the shiniest door.

Another person argued that shiny doors are obviously traps.

A third person said none of this was real, and promptly walked straight into the void.

They disappeared.

Silence.

Hassan stared. “So, uh. Are we gonna pretend that didn’t happen?”

The Mayor chuckled. “Oh, they’ll be fine. Probably.”

Brenda groaned. “I hate this place.”

The cat sighed. “Then get out.”

Jeremiah crossed his arms. “And you’re not gonna help?”

The cat flicked its tail. “I already did. I gave you a warning. Pick wisely.”

Then, as if deciding it had wasted enough time, it stood up… and walked straight through a door.

Brenda blinked. “Did the cat just—”

Before she could finish, the door vanished.

Jeremiah stared. “I have so many questions.”

Hassan muttered, “I don’t think we want the answers.”

The Mayor clapped his hands. “Well! That was exciting. Now, do make your choices.”

Brenda exhaled. “Fine. But if I die, I’m haunting all of you.”

Jeremiah patted her shoulder. “I appreciate your dedication.”

And with that…

They chose.

End of Chapter 7

---

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