Door
As she paced the hallway, a low, rhythmic whisper began to drift through the air, barely audible but impossible to ignore. It pulled at her, tugging her toward the far end of the hallway where the basement door loomed, old and covered in chipped paint. The whispers grew louder, weaving together, almost chanting her name—her real name—words she hadn't heard since she was a child. Her pulse quickened as she took a hesitant step forward, drawn in by the dark melody reverberating from behind the door.
When she reached the basement door, her hand moved instinctively toward the doorknob. But as her fingers brushed the metal, a sudden, searing pain shot through her palm. The mark was burning, throbbing as if alive, growing hot and raw. She pulled her hand back, gasping, and stared at the mark. It had darkened further, bleeding now, raw at the edges. It almost seemed to match the design on the doorknob—a twisted, spiraling shape carved into the metal, old and worn but unmistakably identical to the brand on her skin.
The pain intensified the closer she brought her hand to the doorknob, until her entire arm felt like it was on fire, every nerve screaming. She felt the urge to cry out, to scream as the burning sensation pulsed, demanding her attention, commanding her hand to stay where it was. Just as the pain reached a breaking point, a low, familiar voice coiled through the silence, soft and chilling.
"My angel..."
The words slithered through her mind, penetrating her pain-fogged thoughts. The creature's voice, smooth and deep, seemed to echo all around her, wrapping around her like a dark, weighted cloak. She froze, her hand hovering over the doorknob, caught in the snare of that voice, so familiar and haunting.
"Come to me," it whispered, calling to her like a lullaby. The sound seeped into her bones, dulling the pain, filling her with a strange, unwanted comfort. She felt her mind slipping, torn between the terror in her gut and the undeniable urge to obey, to push open that door and descend into the darkness below. The pull was intoxicating, leaving her weak, her thoughts clouded.
"My angel..." the voice repeated, low and insistent, as if waiting for her to take the final step, to answer the call she had been resisting since her arrival.
She stared at the mark on her hand, trembling as blood trickled down her wrist, its stain stark against her pale skin. Her hand moved again, drawn to the doorknob as if it had a will of its own, her fingers tingling as they brushed the cool metal. The pain dulled, replaced by a calm numbness, almost like relief.
With a slow, shaky breath, she turned the knob, the door creaking open into darkness.
YOU ARE READING
Veil of Shadows
Paranormal--The world fell into darkness as she called to it, her voice swallowed by shadows before her words even reached her lips. She fell, hands dragging her downward, as if they would finally end the desire, she felt for the creature that had tormented h...
