Prologue-Inanimate Objects
Prologue
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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