Tuesday, January 8, 2013

Prologue-Inanimate Objects


The house was strange to her.  Unlike any she had ever known.  It was large.  Old.  The smell of mildew clung to the air like a disease.
The night was cold and dark.  The nightgown she wore was barely enough to keep the chill off her shoulders. 
She walked, slowly, down a hallway that seemed to have no end.  She was scared, because she did not know the house and knew for certain that she was lost within its walls.  She desperately wanted to leave, but could not discern how.
   As she walked down the hallway, cobwebs fell across her face.  Stroking her skin like ghostly gossamer fingers.  She touched the wall and felt along it, hoping to find her way to safety.  Tears streamed down her cheeks as she realized she might never return to the house she knew to be safe.  The house she now so desperately searched for.
Finally, mercifully, the end of the hallway came.  There, she found a door.  An escape.  She placed her hand on the knob and stopped, suddenly afraid to turn it, but at the same time afraid that if she didn't, she may be trapped in her dark prison forever.
With the twist of the knob, the door swung inward, pulled open by its own weight.  Slowly, she walked through.  For a moment, though she thought it impossible, she swore that the room she walked into was darker than the hall had been.  A more infinite, ominous darkness.
The door behind her swung shut with a loud bang.  She quickly ran to it, but was unable to reopen the heavy wooden barrier.  No matter how she pulled, she couldn't open the door.
It was suddenly locked.
The tears came again—along with the light.  A blinding light that seemed to have no particular point of origin, but at the same time pointed directly at her.  The light was warm on her face.  For a moment, comforting.
But then it was too warm.
She turned away from the glow, only to find she faced it again.  The heat from the light intensified and sweat appeared on her forehead.  Her skin started to hurt as it began to burn.
Suddenly a figure appeared from the center of the light.
It walked slowly, but with obvious intent, and stood before her.  Her eyes grew wide as she took in the image.
The figure was that of a man—subconsciously she knew it was anything but.  The hair was long and wet, dripping with some type of thick liquid.  The drops hit its bare chest and ran down its torso.  The face was that of a monster.  The lips were black and split open from dryness.  She could make out the dried blood that had once oozed from the breaks.
Its eyes had no apparent color, but at the same time seemed to be all colors.  The nose was too wide for the size of its face.  Causing it to look more as if it belonged on a cow or steer.
The stranger took her hand and placed it on its chest.
The body was muscular and void of any hair.  The skin warm to the touch.  Her hand was lowered.  The stomach rippled with well-defined muscles.
Her hand was lowered still.
The figure was completely naked and erect.
The beast—for that is what she believed it to be—parted its lips into what she thought was to be a smile.  The teeth were jagged.  Its tongue, long, black and pointed, darted out and licked its bloodied lips as it guided her hand along its offensively large penis.  Slowly at first.  Then faster and faster, until she felt a warm liquid flow across her hand.
“SOON, MY LOVE, YOU WILL KNOW HELL,” it whispered in a harsh, horrible voice.  Then it turned and walked back into the light.
She watched as the figure slowly vanished, but just before it did, she looked down at its feet.  There, below the ankles, where the feet should have been, were two large cloven hooves.
The woman looked down at her hand and found the warm liquid she felt was her own blood pouring from a gash in her palm.

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