Spoiler! :
A dull mist seeps through the crack under the door, swirling and twisting into tiny, intricate spirals. Those spirals formed shapes, hideous beasts that hide beneath a child's bed and haunt a grown man's mind. They gnash out at you with fangs dripping with a strange, unrecognizable purple liquid. My liquid... do you like the colour, Marie? I really hope you do.
You jump back, holding staring at the creatures with wide eyes and a gaping mouth. You almost lose your resolve now, but the shriek on the other side of that horrible door has your mind made up.
You want to save him, we all know you do. Your hesitance is thinning my patience, however. You have precisely seven minutes to make up your mind to either turn and leave or open the creaky old door. Start now.
The first minute I give you is spent in hesitance. You blow your black hair out of your hazel eyes, though the curls keep falling back to where they were before. A cold sweat is hanging over your brow, seconds from dripping to the floor. The creatures have disappeared, they did almost as quickly as they had come. Now all you can do is stare with those wide, fearful eyes at the floor where they once where.
Don't worry my dear, they'll come back for you. I promise your play-mates won't be gone for very long. They're very stubborn things, I couldn't hold them back if I wanted to, and I don't, so don't you worry your pretty-- somewhat disgusting-- little head.
Oh, and by the way. You have six minutes.
You shift uneasily from foot to foot, much to my amusement. It's a simple task, my dear Marie. Walk up and open the door, that's all there is to it. Sure, the horrors on the other side will rob you of your breath and every ounce of colour that's still in your face, but all the same, it's a simple task.
Your hesitance has grown from amusing to irritating. I have no patience for irritating.
Five minutes, two until my monsters begin beating him again-- I need some fun while you're busy worrying. So selfish... so horribly selfish.
The look in your eyes is priceless, though. Fear. I see terror behind those caramel-coloured irises. Your horror is begging to melt away all of my former irritation. But you're still rocking from foot to foot, back and forth. You're making the floorboards creak, my dear Marie, and it's giving me a headache. If you would be so kind as to stop, I would much appreciate it.
You raise one hand, reach for the handle. I'm on the edge of my seat now, Marie. My eyes are bulging, and I can feel my jaw twitch. Open it my dear, just open it. I want to see your eyes, your expression, when you see what we've done to your precious man. What you've done to him.
Four minutes.
For some reason, Marie, you have pulled your hand away. Darling, why did you do that? And why are sobbing so? Come, just enter through the door. We'll take you in with open arms, feed you and make you feel welcome. Granted, we'll probably rip your soul out and feed it to the dogs afterwards, but it's the thought that counts, am I right?
“Michael?” you call out to him. Your voice is trembling. Near breaking, if I'm hearing correctly. You twist a lock of hair around your finger, chewing on your lip until it's nothing but a bleeding nub. And still, Michael hasn't answered. Hm, I wonder why?
Three minutes.
“Mar-- Marie?”
No... that was Michael's voice. Why aren't my little monsters beating him? I'm mad now. Horrified that they would dare leave him in peace. Especially after I ordered them to harm.
You jump, startled, and take three hurried steps towards the door. This does nothing to lighten my mood. Your hand is up again, will you open it? Believe me, I am now angered. Opening that door would not be your greatest interest... but I want you to open that door. Oh, do I ever want you to.
“What have they done to you Michael!?” You're shouting now, oh please don't shout. It hurts my ears, and quite frankly, Marie, your voice is irritating. Especially when it's yelling. No, the only good part about that nasally tone of yours is its scream.
“Marie... Marie don't come, okay? Promise me you'll stay out there?”
You hesitate, much to my pleasure. Indecisive are we? I thought you wanted to save your dear Michael? What a pity... what a pity indeed. You're such a horribly selfish girl. More concerned for yourself than for him. Unless you're only heading his wishes. I'll silence him soon enough.
The monsters are creeping through the door again, Marie. They're coming back for you. That mist is more real than your very skin, do you fear it? Yes, you do. I can see that's it's still there in your eyes.
And finally! They have answered to my demands! They're flogging him again, whips, knives... oh it's so wonderful! And he's screaming, shrieking in pain and terror... Oh Marie, it's the most delightful thing in the world! And you're out there, unable to experience it!
Two minutes, love.
One of the mist beasts lashes out at you, snapping at your knees with its heinous fangs. You shriek, kicking at it. Michael's calling for you on the other side of the door, though your name can hardly be made out. His voice carries too much pain. It's so beautiful, that pain.
Do you hear that Marie? Did you hear Michael's shrieks? Oh, what fun it is to see that look, that horrified expression, spread across your delicate features. Enjoy them with me darling; enjoy them or loathe them. Whichever you please, it brings me joy either way.
Without a second thought, you reach towards the handle, kicking at the mist beasts, stomping them. I don't mind, though. They won't be hurt, they're only vapours, after all. Where this new resolve of yours has come from, I'm not quite sure. Maybe I have misjudged you, Marie. Maybe you're young, twenty-year-old heart is stronger than I thought.
You reach up to the handle for the third time, hesitating as your fingers hover on the cold brass. They brush it, but you don't turn the handle. Why?
You have one minute.
One of the mist beasts is coming back through the door for a second attempt. You stomp it into the floorboards, and gain courage. The door creaks as you push it open. So you've decided to join Michael in his pain have you? Well, that's just dandy. Two dolls in my play house, what fun! And what's better yet is the way your eyes are widening, and oh! Oh, the tears! You're making me want to squeal in delight, Marie!
You watch, quivering, as Michael looks up at you. That blonde hair you loved so much, can you see it? It's caked in blood, and there's red dripping from gashes and gouges all over that wonderful body of his. Funny though, it hardly looks wonderful anymore. Those muscles you loved so much... there's hardly any flesh left on them at all. In my opinion, this is an improvement? What do you think my dear?
You rush to his side, obviously disagreeing with me, and fall to your knees. Your hand grasps his, and his blood drips onto your skin. Your love for him makes me want to vomit, but I'll refrain. My little pets already have enough to clean up as it is. Speaking of which, Marie, you may want to run. They're after you again, all claws and gnarled faces, sharp fangs and blood-lust.
You jump back from Michael's side, away from that stone table. Michael groans, and you look back. This is so very amusing... oh so amusing indeed! Those tears... they're all over. You're too afraid to even scream. Petrified with this incredible terror.
Your last minute is up.
Of course, you've already gone through the door, which means I shouldn't be counting anymore. And you still want to save him, don't you? You want this destroyed hunk of bloody flesh to be whole, to be yours. I can see it in your eyes, Marie. It's a look I can't understand.
Nightmares don't understand these things, I'm afraid. Love, empathy... it's much too confusing.
You walk back to Michael, shoving off a beast as you pass. You aren't even afraid of them anymore. Why aren't you afraid of them Marie? They terrified you not seven minutes ago... Or perhaps you don't even notice them. They just don't matter to you.
The edges of this dark room are fading. Our time together is running out. Somebody's shaking your shoulder on the other side, just as you lean down to kiss Michael, and a few tears fall into the gashes on his cheek. I can feel it. It's increasing your trembling, in fact, you're shoulder is having a spasm.
You're screaming, Marie. I don't know why, but I can say that I'm exstatic to have heard it. Such a sweet sound, those horrified cries you humans make. I've been waiting so long to hear that. A whole seven or eight minutes of waiting.
One more scream, and you bolt up-right in bed. Your husband, your dear Michael, is beside you, hand on your shoulder. No gashes, no scrapes. You're in your apartment in downtown New York City. The lamp on your bedside table is on, glowing throw the shade. You can't hear the hum, but I can. It's down-right irritating. Just like everything else in this pathetic human world of yours.
Michael's whispering soothing words into your ear. You lean over, head resting on his chest, and cry. Did I really do that good a job of all this? Considering the look on his face as you give him the details, I'd think so. He looks as horrified as you were. I can't help but wonder if it's horror for you, his wife, or the pain you put him through. The pain I put him through.
Finally, you're calming down, falling back to sleep in his arms. Disgusting, that's what it is. Love... it makes me sick.
I can't touch you when you feel so safe, when Michael feel so disturbingly protective. You're lucky Marie, lucky your newlywed really does love you. But I'll be here Marie, lurking in your shadow, never seen but ever present.
The Narrator
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