The Door to Secrets: Dark Mystery of the Abandoned Coffee Shop
The coffee shop had always been a staple of the sleepy coastal town since it’s founding in 1904… or was it 1974? Bean There, Done That was known for its warm pastries, perfectly brewed espresso, and an inexplicable charm that seemed to draw people in like a moth to a flame. Locals couldn’t imagine the town without it—until one foggy morning, when its doors didn’t open.
No one knew why. The chairs remained neatly arranged around the tables, and the daily specials still adorned the chalkboard menu as if someone just finished writing it no matter how many days passed. Yet the shop stayed locked. Days turned to weeks, weeks to months, and eventually, people stopped asking questions.
At first, there were stories. The owner, a quiet woman whose name no one could quite agree on—was it Marla? Martha? Marie?—was said to have lost her mind. Some whispered she’d heard voices in the hiss of the espresso machine, sinister murmurs that grew louder every day. Others pointed to the exotic coffee blend she’d recently imported, rumored to be cultivated in cursed soil. Whatever the truth, one thing was certain: the woman, like her shop, vanished without a trace.
But then, something strange happened.
The shop didn’t just close; it faded. People began to forget it was there at all. The once-vivid sign became a blur of peeling paint, its letters unreadable. The windows gathered grime, reflecting only the gray sky and nothing within. Walk by too quickly, and you might miss it altogether, as though the shop willed itself into obscurity. Even those who dared to peer closer found their memories slipping away moments later.
And the owner—was her name Margaret? No one was sure anymore. In fact, no one could recall her face, her voice, or any detail about her life. It was as if she had been erased entirely.
Occasionally, someone would try to rent the space, but they never lasted. A baker claimed to hear footsteps pacing above the ceiling, though the building had no second floor. Another tenant swore they smelled fresh coffee brewing in the dead of night, even though no equipment remained. Each time, the tenant would leave abruptly, unable to explain their unease—or why they’d even tried to move in at all.
Soon, the shop became more of a ghost story than a building. Teenagers dared each other to touch the rusted door handle or look through the streaked glass. Most backed out, laughing nervously, but those who managed to step closer claimed that, for just a moment, they felt it—an odd pull, like the shop was watching them.
And then, just as quickly, they’d lose interest. The moment they turned away, the shop dissolved from their minds, as if a spell had been cast to ensure it was forgotten the second it left their gaze.
Now, the shop sits quietly, unnoticed by the bustling town around it. The air feels heavier near its door, though no one remarks on it. And the name—Bean There, Done That—lingers like a half-remembered dream, just out of reach. Was that what it was called? Was it ever really there at all?
Tune in every Monday for a new chapter in the saga—each one more mysterious, more twisted, and more unforgettable than the last.
Who—or what—is really waiting inside?
