Under_The_Whispering_Door_by_TJ_Klune

He was young, perhaps nine or ten, with golden-brown skin, his eyes a
strange shade of violet. Long, shaggy hair curled down around his ears,
brown with streaks of white, unfurled flowers woven into the locks. He wore
a T-shirt over jeans. It took Wallace a moment to make out the words on the
shirt in the dark.
JUST A KID FROM TOPEKA
The boy’s feet were bare. He flexed his fingers and toes, tilting his head
from side to side before looking up at the window once more, directly at
Wallace. The boy nodded, and Wallace felt his throat close.
The boy began to climb the stairs.
Wallace stumbled back from the window. He managed to keep upright,
though it was close. He looked around wildly, for someone, anyone to see
what he was seeing. Hugo and Mei were as they’d been. Apollo and Nelson
too. Alan, the same.
He was alone.
The boy knocked on the door.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
“Go away,” Wallace croaked out. “Please, just go away.”
“I can’t do that, Wallace,” the boy said, his voice light, the words almost
like musical notes. He wasn’t quite singing, but it wasn’t normal speech
either. There was a weight to him, a presence Wallace could feel even
through the door, heavy and ethereal. “It’s time we had a little chat.”
“Who are you?” Wallace whispered.
“You know who I am,” the boy said, voice muffled. “I’m not going to hurt
you. I would never do that.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Understandable. You don’t know me. Let’s change that, shall we?”
The doorknob turned.
The door opened.
The boy stepped inside Charon’s Crossing. The wooden floors creaked
under his feet. As he slowly closed the door behind him, the walls of the tea
shop began to ripple like a breeze blowing across the surface of a pond.
Wallace wondered what would happen if he tried to touch them, if he’d sink
into the walls and drown.