Hi there! I know that the title is probably odd but, hopefully, it will make sense by the end of it. To give you some background, I live in Mexico but, for the holidays, I visit my extended family. You know how it is: long story short, this year we decided to gather in LA: more rain than expected, my flight got delayed, all cool, I just decided to stay longer with my relatives. Except, this is where the issue is: closets here are the worst.

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Back where I grew up, we had normal closets and, sure, as a kid, you would be afraid of it but as you grew up it usually got fine. I knew a kid who was deathly afraid of them even as he grew older but I think he ended up dying from drugs. Anyhow, horror closets, I heard about them and finally came face to face with them here in LA. I am not the one to judge tho! Our relatives here in LA don't earn a lot, but there was never any shaming about it, otherwise, gramma would be quick to deliver punishment. So hey, they freak me out a bit, but nothing major, right?

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First few days, I messed around with them, even thinking about setting up some sort of bed in there (really, they are odd guys) and, while doing that, I noticed how shitty they were (in terms of, you know, quality) Again, nothing major, just thought that I shouldn't freak out if a dor creaks here or there, you know? Except, fuck you: the bed was next to the closet. Right next to it. In fact, all the beds were! That was a bit odd but the relatives said that this helped with space and we did not question it. Still, sleeping next to the death closet was really stressing me out but I thought, hey, I am a big girl (finally transitioned, yay for me) I can do it, right?

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Well, skip to a few days in and, all of the sudden, I wake up next to the open door. I had one of those paralysis guys once in my life when I was going through puberty, and man, it really felt like that: you imagine a wall next to you, right? But instead, there is just dark nothing, empty. So I jump and nearly fall in with all the clothes. Freaky shit, but many of my cousins were quick to make fun of me; at the end of the day, we decided to write it off as me just moving while I slept. Sure, I can believe it. But it didn't happen once. After that first time, constantly, I would wake up next to the open door: and I was the only one! My family, who never slept close to the closet themselves, were fine! So, I'll concede, at this point I might've freaked out a bit and acted slightly out of character: maybe the stress got to me, right? One night, I just couldn't sleep, so I had to lay in bed and just...be there. One of those nights when, you know, you just lay and think about things, praying for sleep. One of those nights: so there I was, minding my own business before I heard this sound. This nasty creak, the noise of wheels riding along the metal base of the closet. My arms were down, so what gives, right? Hearing shit, surely?

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Well, I look up and...I wish I didn't? I am still not sure what I saw but there was...something there, you know? It was dark as fuck, but I saw this shape. Clothes hanging, right? But there, at the top, were those two dots: I am not sure what those were if they were eyes or what, but those little white jewels...they were staring at me. This crawling feeling at the back of your neck when you feel someone staring holes through you, right? So I panic and, luckily, it wasn't a paralysis demon, because I was able to both scream and punch the door at full force. The rest unveiled as your usual soap opera: my family runs in, I am on the floor in another corner, there is a fist-sized hole in, now laying on the bed, closet door. After turning on the lights and confirming that there was nothing in the closet, cue my cousins making fun of me.

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See, if this was all, then it would be it, right? Except that it wasn't: the next day I was helping my dad and other guys to replace the door and, as we moved the bed and were moving the door, grandmother comes in. She looks around and, suddenly, when everyone was out, kneels by the corner of the door: right there, she picks some broken-looking bell, ceramic one I think, before placing a similar one, but the whole, back down. I stand there, utterly lost, and she just turns to me and smiles: "I think little ones knocked it down when they were playing in your room. All good now."

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Woman, what? Now listen, I am an atheist, right, so I don't much trust in the supernatural but this stuff? This stuff was horrible: especially when they placed the bed right back there. I felt like, yo, maybe be nice to me and place the bed somewhere else? But guess not, gonna just off myself: though, there was a weird...drive in the father of the house, son of the grandmother, as he moved the bed back in. As if he wouldn't stop even if I asked him, as if this is how it should be, right? So, I am freaking out here, not sure what to do: and this is when I get the brilliant idea of checking the closet, again. Maybe I am losing it, but as I went inside, everything looked perfectly fine, and yet I felt that something was off. There was this unease in my core, this weakness in my legs as if I was in danger and I simply could do nothing about it: I swear, my heart was going like, 100 km/h? It didn't help that it was at night, but this was the only time when I knew that no one could sneak up on me: when everyone was asleep. I felt crazy, really did, as I started to literally pick the closet apart but, well, guess I wasn't.

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So, we get to tonight: as I take the main and single shelf off, as I realized that there is a hole in the wall. Not on the side that leads to the hallway, but on the side that should lead to the living room: there is a hole, the size of the shelf that I took off, and there is space inside. Perhaps I am losing it, but I can swear that there is space inside, enough for a fucking person to walk through, and I can feel air coming through. I tried shining in with my phone and that did not help, because I could swear, the walls have pipes! Metallic pipes running through, valves here and there and, god, it stinks. The place does not look clean one bit, all rusty and stuff, but there is this stench that just won't stop, I even had to put the shelf back in because I was afraid of waking up others. It was sweet, sickly so, and almost...thick? Like I could taste it. It felt like I stood on a graveyard of fish because this is the closest comparison I can probably give: hundreds of fresh fish rotting under a blazing sun.

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So, this is where I find myself: it is almost morning and, credit where credit's due, gramma was right, nothing opened the door tonight. Glad to know that my cousins nearly killed me by breaking some ancient relic but...wall goblins, what do I do?