Behind his fangs

Voices behind the walls

I stand at my post, watching the wall in front of me while hearing some chattering down the hall near Dahlias' post. The talking and laughter that echoed from wall to wall brought me back from the thoughts I had the habit of sinking into. What am I doing here? Could I have not gone and gotten a job at the local pub? Looking down at the gun that rested in the holster on my hip, pulling it out and seeing "Freedom Arms Model 97 Premier Grade" under the handle. I think I've seen this kind of gun showcased by some soldiers before. Isn't this super strong? Why would I need such a powerful gun against a human? Don't those just need a kick between the legs and they're on the ground?

Putting my gun away and looking around, eyeing the small figurines that surrounded me and stood frozen in time on granite pedestals,their soulless eyes staring deeply at the vomit coloured walls, I had noticed a door further down the corridor, barely visible from under some hanging curtains that surrounded a piece of art that hung from the ceiling with a fishing line, making it look ominously float in the air. The door looked so out of place. Thick rimming on the edges, looking as old as the museum.

I wanted to see more. It looked similar to a vault door, standing twice the height of me. Looking down at my wrist, reading 8:44am off of it. Have I really been standing here for only 20 minutes? I feel like I've been here for hours. Feeling impatient, I try and calm myself with thoughts like

"You're an adult now, act like it." and "You don't need to check everything out, stop acting childish.". I couldn't help my curiosity.

I look down the hall and don't see nor hear anyone. Looking up though, I see a camera.

Damn it.

I'm stuck watching from afar.

Minutes felt like hours, hours felt like days. I couldn't help but glance at the old rusted lining of the door, curious what was behind it. Looking up once more, seeing the camera flash a bright red light. It was very obviously turned on and working.

I started finding new things to focus on - a crack on the wall that looked like a smiley face at one glance and a thunderstorm at a second, a few lines and what looked like scratches on the walls that were repainted, the diameter of it being bigger than my head and the noises. It was mostly quiet in the area I was in. Most of the exhibits weren't as exciting as the catacombs and art exhibits on the other side of the area. My area had old artifacts, boring historical facts about the local houses and stuff that people aren't usually very excited to learn about. The silence made it possible to hear the softest and quietest noises. Rain from the outside that echoed through the empty corridors and moans. Quiet and peculiar moans that sounded like gasps for air strummed through the air from time to time. I thought it was the pipes at first, hearing some radios through the empty voids. But no.

They were coming from towards the vault. How on earth could a noise escape through that door?

I couldn't bear it any more.

I still had a few hours before I was allowed to move from my spot. I went against my will and moved towards the covered door, not caring if the camera was looking at me or if I was going to get caught. I had an excuse to check what was going on. The groans were a lot more frequent when I got closer, though they were a lot quieter. The room itself that held the door and the floating painting was nearly pitch black except the spotlight that shone onto the hovering painting. The painting itself was a carbon copy of 'Saturn Devouring His Son' but a lot more disturbing. The paint was a lot more smudged and Saturn didn't seem like he was distraught by what he was doing, he was rather enjoying it.

I turn from the gruesome painting, just a few steps away from the door before hearing a loud, inhuman moan.

What the actual fuck?!

It sounded so unreal, even through the thick concrete, the whine sounded like it was right next to me. Inhaling a sharp breath, hovering my hand over the revolver that was handed to me before for defensive purposes only, I drew closer to the door, my mind yelling at me to run.

Moving the curtain off of the door more, I could see the enormous handle which was the only thing barricading the door from opening. It didn't look like it had been open for centuries. Any kind of noise from behind it had quieted to almost a whisper. Feeling my legs stiffening from the fear, my curiosity kept its hold over my body, reaching towards the wheel to crank it.

"Mister Compton." I hear my name being called from where I came from. It was Crawford. I jumped, pulling away from the now silent door that was in front of me. I looked at my manager who didn't seem angry, but rather displeased.

"I expected better from you." I could see the disappointment on his face. "I-I'm sorry, I just heard some noises from over here and came to investigate them." I try to explain myself and give reason, but to no avail. Crawfold didn't seem to believe me. Only raising his eyebrow when listening to me ramble about some weird noises and yells that came from behind the door.

"Compton." He started with a stern tone, seeming to know what he was talking about, "That door is 2 or so meters thick. It has not been opened since 1699." Looking back at the door, everything he was saying sounded true. The edges were welded together by rust and the layers of iron reeked of ammonia. The first day on the job and I was already going crazy.

I apologized to Crawfold again, telling him and myself that I must have been hearing things.

But they sounded so real.

I shake that thought out of my head, placing my hand on my forehead to make sure I didn't have a fever.

"Get back to your post Compton, guests are heading this way." Crawfold spoke with his tired tone once again, seeming to forgive me for dwelling off of my post.

I was happy I had such a forgiving boss at that moment. I walked back towards the corridor before hearing a voice strain itself through the door again. Something sounded off though. It sounded a lot closer, like it was right behind the wall.

"𝖮𝗋𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗌."

Shivers ran through my spine. That thing said my name. I turned towards the door, covered with the curtain once more. I swear I heard it creak. Something was leaning against it from the other side of the door.

I bolted from that room as fast as I could.

I. was scared. shitless.

Whatever was in there knew my name. Did it hear it from Crawford? Was I actually sick? Am I hearing things? I ran back to my post, feeling cold sweat on my forehead. The guests that Crawfold had talked about before were no where to be seen. I was alone in that corridor. I couldn't even hear laughter or talking from the front area.

My heart was racing. Where did Crawfold go? Is Dhalia still at her desk? Why is it so quiet all of a sudden?

"𝖮𝗋𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗌."

I hear my name echo through the pipes and empty rooms again. It sounded raspy and high pitched. It didn't sound normal. I wanted to scream.

Who the hell is calling out to me?!

Authors note:

Ngl I kinda scared myself at the end slightly.

Word count: 1305