Author Topic: The Buckled Door, Prologue. Psychological thriller  (Read 1531 times)

Offline garic

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The Buckled Door, Prologue. Psychological thriller
« on: May 27, 2008, 05:42:25 PM »
The Buckled Door

  Ben knew that it wouldn't be long before the nightmare pierced his subconscious, sending his soul spiralling down towards the bowels of depravation. As his demons crept closer, he retreated fearfully into his boxed world to look from a hole like a child, frightened of what he might see. Once again, the shadows twisted every ounce of his reality, pouring like treacle into every crevice, drowning out his screams from within.

  Naked and cold, he stood shivering in a strange barren room. This was a despairing windowless place where the living didnít belong. The once whitewashed walls were black from damp and mould that glistened in the dim light of a single bulb that hung from the ceiling. Hope had deceased here and he retched from the stench of its decay.
 Set in the far wall, a buckled door hung in a twisted frame of rust. The door glowed orange as if charged with a malevolent energy and he was drawn to it like a moth to a flame. On the door, written in blood was the name Ben Smead. It was his name and as he read the letters dread penetrated through the pores of his skin, settling heavily upon his heart. He knew the sequence of events in this reoccurring nightmare but couldnít halt its progress.

  In his perherical vision, he detected the form of a girl cowering in the corner. It was the same girl as always but he didnít know her identity. Dressed in nothing but misery, she shook uncontrollably from cold and fear.  Ben couldn't see her face, she hid it from him but he could see the torturous ordeal of her captivity.
With her hair matted in an oily black mass and mucus slime covering her body, she was pitiful.  Ben stepped closer to her but stopped abruptly as she jerked violently against his approach. 

  "What have they done to you?" Ben whispered. He wanted to console her but she was beyond comfort. Her body looked painfully thin and her mind appeared to have abandoned all rationality. From nowhere, an icy chill invaded the room as a thousand goose pimples erupted on Ben's skin. The girl whimpered as the solitary light bulb began to flicker before plunging them into darkness. The darkness felt like it had hung for a thousand years and all the horrors from those years were entwined within it.
  Ben collapsed to his knees and pleaded for forgiveness. In the darkness he sensed a presence, it wasn't tangible but he felt its eyes upon his soul.  A flicker of light gave him hope and he prayed for salvation. He hungered for pity to drip its essence upon his forehead and release him from this hell. Suddenly, the light returned but he didn't dare to stop his prayers. Unable to stand and breathless in the stagnant air, Ben stared towards the door. He could see that it now hung ajar in its twisted frame. He looked for the girl but she had gone. The markings on the floor suggested that she had crawled through the opening and into the abyss.

  Ben closed his eyes and waited for what would happen. This domain should hold no relevance to a sane man or a believer in God.  This definitely wasn't the home of angels that he'd prayed for during his waking hours, this was the gate to hell. Ben resigned himself to his fate. He waited helplessly, knowing that the darkness would return for him.