The Blue Door's Watcher

My grandfather died protecting a secret that should have stayed buried forever. He always warned

me: never open the blue door in the basement. He said some doors aren't locked to

keep things out, they're locked to keep us safe from what's inside. At his funeral,

I found a rusty key hidden in the heel of his dress shoe. The same shoe we

buried him in. I should have thrown it away. Instead, I went to the basement.

The blue door was waiting. Behind it, I heard something humming,

like electricity coursing through old wires. The key turned smoothly, too smoothly,

like it had been used recently. Inside was a control room. Dozens of old monitors