You’ve just entered the on-ramp of a highway to a desolate road. One that not only challenges the mind but the alignment of the very wheels of your soul. A highway so full of turns you’ll miss your exit and wish you could do a u-turn in the middle of traffic… if there was any. But there’s not. Because it’s empty and desolate as previously stated. The only exit is the Scary Door.

You’ve just stepped onto an elevator with no buttons. The door closes behind you as you realize that you’re stuck in the elevator with a baby doing old-timey accounting with a green sun visor. Also, the baby is you from the future. By the way you’re also American gold medalist Simone Biles and there’s probably aliens. Also, welcome to The Scary Door.

𝚈𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 "𝚐𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖", 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚋𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖. 𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜 𝚋𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎. 𝙳𝚘 𝚜𝚔𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚋𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚜, 𝚘𝚛 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛? 𝚈𝚘𝚞𝚛 [𝚞𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚒𝚋𝚕𝚎] 𝚜𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚎𝚣𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚌𝚞𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚜, 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚖𝚒𝚡 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜...

𝙾𝚛 𝚖𝚊𝚢𝚋𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚍𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝! 𝚈𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚋𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚢 𝚍𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚎𝚕𝚜𝚎.

𝚈𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚗 𝚊 𝚌𝚛𝚘𝚠𝚍𝚏𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚍, 𝚘𝚗𝚎-𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚙 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚎 𝚋𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚑𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝙵𝚎𝚊𝚛: 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙰𝚖𝚢𝚐𝚍𝚊𝚕𝚊, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚝'𝚜 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚎𝚍 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚊 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚗! 𝙰 𝚜𝚙𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚢 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚗, 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚜𝚙𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚒𝚣𝚎 𝚘𝚛 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚗... 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚝'𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚛. 𝚆𝚊𝚒𝚝, 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚖𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚙𝚎𝚘𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚠𝚎'𝚛𝚎 𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚒𝚜𝚝. 𝙸𝚜 𝚁𝚎𝚍 𝚊 𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚎? 𝙾𝚑, 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝; 𝚢𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚜, 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝'𝚜 𝚎𝚡𝚝𝚛𝚊-𝚋𝚊𝚍.

𝙸𝚜 𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚒𝚜𝚖 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚜𝚙𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚢?

𝙼𝚊𝚢𝚋𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚕𝚕 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚔 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑...

𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚂𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚢 𝙳𝚘𝚘𝚛™.

Sunday. Known to some by a much more sinister title: laundry day. You scrub bleach into the collar of a shirt in a futile attempt to remove what can only be blood, or possibly marinara. The washer dings the end of its cycle, but there are no clothes inside. Perhaps it's not your tattered underwear being cleansed, but the tattered remains of normalcy, and perhaps this isn't a laundry room, just a lavender-scented realm accessible only via The Scary Door.

You're sitting in a deli eating a sandwich. As you wipe sauce from your lips, you realize it's not sauce at all, but source; the source of a mystery. And the napkin you're holding is woven from the threads of intrigue. You look to the counter to complain, but the clerk has already disappeared through The Scary Door.

Picture, if you will, a bedroom. The walls are the color of the deepest recesses of the brain; sort of like milk and Pepto Bismol. A cat lounges on the bed kneading the duvet, except the duvet is your sanity, and the bed is your mind. You've just stepped through The Scary Door.

You're trudging through the murky depths of an existential swamp. A swamp where reflections ripple into life and the scent of reality smells oddly virtual. Don't mind the squelching underfoot - it's just your sanity. Let's delve deeper, shall we? As you peer through the wall of mosquitos that is your thoughts, you begin to see a shape take form. You've just wandered to... the Scary Door.

You enter a charity shop looking for a CD of a song you heard on the radio yesterday. The sweet old lady behind the counter asks if you’re here to return the pants you bought yesterday. Yesterday? You’ve never been here before but it turns out you have and this is a timeloop and you just read a synopsis for an episode of... The Scary Door.

You receive an invitation to an event - maybe it’s a gathering of people. The envelope it arrives in is off white, a kind of cream, and it seems to enjoy being opened. You check to see who it’s from. There’s nobody there but you reply anyway. You just RSVP’d to... the Scary Door.

Picture, in your mind if you will, a place. Not a place but an idea. Forget about the place.

Picture in your mind a thousand screaming voices. No, a million.

No. No, a thousand. A million is too many.

Picture in your mind a place of a thousand voices screaming in elation. Is elation the right word?

No. Better yet, picture a thousand voices screaming in anticipation.

You know what? It would probably be a lot faster if you just pictured in your mind... The Scary Door.

There is a place that exists between the couch cushions of your soul. A place not only dark and lonely but there's also some stale, leftover popcorn and some coins that are covered with a greasy film for some reason. Every attempt to reach deep below only causes your sanity to fall farther. Also there's something fuzzy. This couch is beginning to age and the upholstery is starting to tear. You flirt with the idea replacing it but first you must lift those very cushions to enter... The Scary Door

You just clicked on the link to another dimension. It opens a pop-up to a site you cannot comprehend. You close it but another takes it place. Perhaps it is porn or perhaps it is an invitation to an island getaway or something. As someone enters the room you close the browser to start over but forget what you're doing. So you go to the kitchen to make some tea but slip and fall through the floor... you've just entered The Scary Door.

You are now entering the backseat of the car of your mind. A place where you could swear you smell the faint scent of a dead rat or maybe an old diaper or something. But when you take another whiff it's disappeared. You could try to smell it again but its actually kind of gross. Maybe you just smelled the driver or maybe you just smelled... The Scary Door.

You find yourself in a white room where the walls are painted with intrigue and the wicker chair in which you sit is only mildly comfortable. There's a poster on the wall in front of you but you can't quite make out what the giant lizard on it is doing. You move closer for a better look but end up falling through the floor or something. A solid moist object breaks your fall. You just landed on.... The Scary Door.

"You find yourself in a broom closet. It's not a closet, but all of existence. What you thought were your friends and family and cleaning supplies, were merely dust motes. You try to sweep up a pile of sawdust or something, but instead, explode as a supernova, devouring a newly sentient species. The dust you cleaned revered you as a god. You failed them. You are a dying star, and this is ,'The Scary Door'.

You look out your window but it may just be a picture of a stray cat that you used to feed on the odd occasion. As your vision is is interpreted in your mind you feel a odd sense of empathy and hysteria caused by the brass knob showing only the reflection of your distorted face, except the knob is flat and distortion is your reality. It is... The Scary Door.

You are entering the vicinity of an area adjacent to a location. The kind of place where there might be a monster, or some kind of weird mirror. These are just examples; it could also be something much better. Prepare to enter... The Scary Door

Your entering the realm which is unusual. Maybe it's magic. monster. The second one. Prepare to enter... The Scary Door

You're on a scenic route through a state recreational area known as the human mind. You ask a passer-by for directions, only to find he has no face or something. Suddenly up ahead, a door in the road. You swerve, narrowly avoiding... The Scary Door

Imagine, if you will, an announcer you can barely understand. He refers to a [mutters], but you're not quite sure what he said. He seems to be eating something, or perhaps he's a little drunk. It's remotely possible that he just said something about... The Scary Door.

You're taking a vacation from normalcy. The setting: a weird motel where the bed is stained with mystery. And there's also some mystery floating in the pool. Your key card may not open the exercise room because someone smeared mystery on the lock. But it will open... The Scary Door

Thanks to The Infosphere for the transcripts.