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David Taylor, 09 Aug '13

Nick's footsteps echoed down the hallway, the rhythmic drumming announcing his presence as much as any doorbell ever could. Each step stirred up a small storm of dust; course grains that scratched at his throat and irritated his eyes.

"It's going to be alright," he told himself, wiping his palms on his jeans yet again. He drew a deep breath, holding in the stale air for as long as he could before breathing back out. He repeated the action once, twice, three times.

It did little, if anything, to ease Nick's nerves and the thundering symphony in his chest was louder than it ever was. In fact, it was now so loud that he was amazed he could still hear the low buzzing of the lights above his head.

"Come on, buddy," Nick muttered as the door grew closer. "Not much further to go."

This was no lie and it was barely ten feet from him now: a tall rectangle of peeling paint and rotting wood. Dim light shone through the many holes that permeated it, framing the door in a manner that was almost serene.

There was nothing serene about it, Nick decided.

He did not read the small, brass panel it displayed as he drew closer, freezing as something crunched beneath his feet.

Glass; it was only glass. It was scattered everywhere - gleaming shards that lay right up to the forbidding of the door.

Nick unclenched his fists. He continued.

Crunch. Crunch.

The lights went out.

In an instant, Nick was plunged into the most complete darkness he had ever been in. No light shone from behind the door; no light beat down on him from above. There was only the darkness. The darkness and the silence that went with it.

Even Nick's heart seemed to be waiting - standing as still as its siblings the lungs - waiting as his hand curled around what lay in his pocket.

Too late to turn back now, Nick thought as he pushed the door open. Much too late.

Hinges wailed. Wood groaned.

There was silence, as utter and infinite as before.

Then, there was a low voice. It was chilling, sounding more like gravel tumbling down a slope than the notes of human speech. "I knew you'd come."

"Yes," was all Nick could think to say.

Comments · 1

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  • Orlando Ramos said...

    Very eerie story, a little wordy in some places, but eerie nonetheless. I want to know what it is Nick is walking towards, but at the same time I have a feeling I don't want to know. Great writing!

    • Posted 9 years ago