You take hold of the door. It’s as thick as your palm. The metal door is heavy, and you have to pull hard to get it to move.
As it begins to open, a vibrant blue light begins to fill the alley around you.
The door passes in front of your body. You start to peer into the room beyond the threshold. It looks like an aquarium. There is vibrant blue water filling the room. ‘Room,’ you think, doesn’t completely convey what lies beyond. The door is still mostly closed, but the ground’s covered in sand. The water seems to stretch back infinitely, into a blue-black darkness. You see a school of small fish swimming by.
The door seems to get heavier as you continue to pull it open. It begins to feel like it’s actively fighting against you, trying to keep itself closed.
You get the door open enough to see one half of a stone statue in the water. The statue is of a woman screaming. She’s covered in algae, and the statue is wrapped in chains, and anchored to the ground. The woman wears rusted, cracked metal armor, much of which has fallen down to the sea floor.
You feel your body drawn towards the statue. You want to reach your hand out and touch it. Does that make any sense? There must be some clear material between you and the water. Something keeping the water from spilling out into the alley. Right?