Once upon a time…
There was a rich old man who died. …A lot of stories start out like this.
Anyways, this man had a son who’d always had things handed to him on silver platters. This son, thinking “work” was for other people, frittered away all his dad’s money. When, at the end of several years, he realized he was broke, he started selling off all his stuff. It took another year or so, but finally he was broke and homeless!
So finally he had to get, ugh, a job.
To his credit, he survived a couple years as a daily laborer. He learned a lot about farming, and how food is made. He still spent money like it was water, but didn’t starve or anything.
One morning he was waiting to be hired for the day, and an old depressed-looking man came up. The man looked over all the laborers, and pointed to our protagonist.
He said “you look like you’ve been in fancy houses before. Can you serve a bunch of rich old guys?”
The laborer was like “absolutely! I grew up in a fancy house!”
The man said “great! We need someone to try and cheer us up. Your budget for doing so will be… basically infinite. But on one condition: you can never ask what we’re sad about.”
The laborer was like “that’s a condition I can live with! Let’s go!”
So they went to a big mansion on a hill, with a huge garden where all sorts of songbirds lived. The mansion was made of marble and cedar, and delicious food was brought to them every day.
Our protagonist was given a fine linen uniform and a chest of gold, and introduced to his employers.
There were ten men, all lethargic with hollow looks in their eyes. They hardly spoke, and never smiled.
Well, three days after arriving, the first of the men died. There was a depressingly short funeral, and everyone got on with their lives.
A few months later, the next died. Very tragic.
And a month after that, a third old man went.
Meanwhile, our protagonist was having a great time! He spent money a liiiiitle more wisely, but not by much. One of the old guys taught him about economy, budgeting, and the joys of savings account interest rates. So it wasn’t likely he’d spend all their money. Still, he enjoyed the fine things in life and tried getting the old guys to enjoy them, too.
They never did, but that didn’t bother him.
Anyways, a decade passed, and finally it was just him and one last old guy. The old guy developed a lingering cough, and one night called the young man to his bedside.
“You’ve done a good job,” the old guy told him. “Seeing you enjoy life has made my life less depressing. When I die, this mansion and all our money will become yours. Do with it what you will, but heed my warning: do NOT open the door in the basement. If you do, you’ll end up like us. Depressed, unable to laugh, and eventually dead.”
The young man agreed, and was with the old guy when he died that night.
Finding himself the very rich owner of a fancy house, our protagonist once again had a great life! He lived life to the full for a year, but kept thinking about the old guy’s warning.
One night, he finally did it. He went down into the basement and found the door. It was made of solid iron, with four heavy locks on it.
If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
It was a door made to never be opened.
Curiosity satisfied, he went back upstairs and forgot about it.
Until about a month later. He just had to know what was behind the door.
So he got a pair of bolt cutters, went down to the basement, and broke the door open.
On the other side of the door was a long stone corridor. Curious, he grabbed a torch and started walking. After a few minutes he came to an underground river, with a path leading north.
He followed the river, not sure where it would lead him. He walked for a number of hours, until the river let out at the edge of the sea. Being tired, he sat down on the beach for a nap.
While he was asleep, a giant eagle came and picked him up.
…This happens a surprising number of times in Arabian stories. (Which I much prefer to the surprising number of times in European stories where preteen girls get forced into marriage.) (Y’no, now I see why my mother got me 1,001 Nights as a child instead of Grimm’s Fairy Tales…)
Anyways, the eagle flew out over the ocean, soaring high. Eventually it dropped our protagonist on a tiny island, and flew off.
He looked around, but it was one of those islands from cartoons where it’s just a tiny bit of sand with a single palm tree on it, so there wasn’t much for him to do. He stared at the sky, wondering if the eagle was planning on returning. Night fell, and he scratched SOS into the sand. The next morning, he spotted sails on the horizon.
He shouted and waved his arms, until it was clear the boat was heading towards him. He waited, trying to think of a way to say “a giant eagle dumped me here” without sounding crazy. When the boat drew closer, he noticed that the crew consisted entirely of hot women.
At that point he though he was hallucinating due to starvation and dehydration. But nope, they landed to welcome him aboard, and there were only women on the ship.
Not about to complain, he tried to get to know this crew. They didn’t speak. They were very polite, and gave him food and water, but they didn’t say anything. After a few hours a magnificent city came into view. The women made it clear to our protagonist that he was supposed to put on a set of fine silk clothes and get ready to meet the ruler.
He put the clothes on, and when they got to the docks they were met by a royal procession. A huge army stood at attention on either side of the street, in full armor. The ruler of the city, wearing like thirty layers of silk and a helmet that covered the whole face, welcomed him and led him to the palace.
When they got there, he was motioned into a seat next to the ruler’s. She took off her helmet and shook out long raven locks. Our protagonist had never seen a face so beautiful, and was dumbfounded.
She explained. “This country is run entirely by women. Men do all the farming and construction and other menial tasks, but all the important stuff is done by women. Everyone in the army and government is a woman. Which is fine, but it’s had the side effect of making all the men in the country extremely dumb. So, I need a king who isn’t from here. This king won’t be allowed to do much, mostly just be eye candy and agree with everything I say. Think you can manage that?”
He was like “this was the job I was born to do!”
She was like “great!” And that night they got married.
He had an even better life as king. He had truly infinite wealth, and everything he wanted was instantly provided. Plus, he wasn’t expected to think! Who could ask for more?
Except, there was one room he wasn’t allowed to enter. There was a door in the queen’s room that he was forbidden from opening. At first he just presumed it was a bathroom or something, and wasn’t interested. But he realized her bathroom was the door next to that one, and decided it was a closet. But then he realized her closet was the bedroom across the hall. When he asked about the door, his wife told him to ignore it.
To his credit, it took him twelve years to get curious enough about the door to open it. He just kept wondering what secrets it held. Everything he could imagine it held seemed to be somewhere else, in plain view.
So one fateful day, when the queen was off doing queen things, he snuck into her room and opened the door.
To his shock, he found the giant eagle that’d taken him to the island! The eagle was also very surprised. It screeched, grabbed him, and flew out through the nearest window.
It flew for hours and hours, and finally dumped him back on that beach by the underground river. The man tried to hold on. He yelled and begged, trying to get the eagle to come back, but it refused. It flew home, and never returned.
He stayed on that beach three days, waiting. Finally he gave up, and walked back up the path by the underground river. He went through the big iron door and closed it, then wandered through his old mansion.
The next day, he hired a young man to bring him food and fine things, and entertain him. But what was the point? He died a few months later of a broken heart, having never laughed again.
And he left everything to that young man. Warning him to not open the door in the basement…
----------------------------------------
Moral: If someone tells you to not open a door, don’t do it.