The depth of short stories and micro-fiction 2

The Devouring Dark

Rory had always been fascinated by the abandoned asylum on the outskirts of town. Rumours swirled that it was cursed, that anyone who stepped inside would never come out again. But Rory wasn't one to believe in such superstitions. She was a sceptic, a seeker of truth and reason.

So, on a crisp autumn evening, Rory decided to sneak into the asylum and explore its depths. She had heard that the building was structurally unsound, that the walls were crumbling, and that the floors were weak, but she was determined to see it for herself.

As she approached the entrance, a chill ran down her spine. The building loomed above her, its windows like empty eyes staring back. But Rory steeled herself and pushed open the creaking door.

The interior was just as eerie as the exterior. The walls were covered in peeling paint, and the air was thick with the scent of decay. Rory's footsteps echoed through the empty halls as she made her way deeper into the asylum.

She explored room after room, each one filled with the remnants of a long-abandoned life. There were old hospital beds, rusting medical equipment, and even a few scattered personal belongings. But it was the operating room that caught her attention.

The room was small, with a single operating table in the centre. The walls were lined with old medical cabinets, their doors hanging open like skeletal fingers. Rory's eyes were drawn to the table, where a single word was scrawled in red paint: "MINE".

Rory felt a shiver run down her spine. Who could have written that? And why? She searched the room, but there was no sign of anyone else. She was alone.

As she turned to leave, Rory heard a faint noise. It was a low hum, like the sound of machinery whirring to life. She followed the sound to a door hidden behind a tattered curtain. The sign on the door read " Boiler Room".

Rory hesitated for a moment, wondering if she should investigate further. But her curiosity got the better of her. She pushed open the door and stepped inside.

The room was small and dimly lit, with a single flickering light bulb overhead. The hum was louder now, and Rory could see that it was coming from a large boiler in the centre of the room. But it was what was attached to the boiler that made her blood run cold.

A series of pipes and tubes snaked out from the boiler, connecting to a series of metal drums. The drums were labelled with strange symbols and warnings, and Rory could see that they were slowly filling with a dark, viscous liquid.

Suddenly, the hum stopped. The light bulb flickered and died, plunging the room into darkness. Rory was trapped, alone and frightened.

As she stumbled through the darkness, Rory realized that she was not alone. She could hear footsteps, echoing through the room. They were light, almost imperceptible, but they were getting closer.

Rory's heart was racing now, her breath coming in short gasps. She stumbled forward, desperate to find a way out. But the footsteps were getting closer, and she could feel a presence closing in around her.

And then, just as suddenly as it had started, everything stopped. The footsteps ceased, and the room was silent once more. Rory stood frozen, her heart pounding in her chest.

As she waited, a faint light began to seep into the room. It was a soft, blue glow, and it seemed to be coming from the drums. Rory watched in horror as the liquid inside began to bubble and churn, releasing a noxious gas into the air.

The gas spread quickly, filling the room with a thick, choking fog. Rory stumbled forward, desperate to escape. But it was too late. The fog enveloped her, and she felt herself being pulled towards the drums.

As she looked down, Rory saw that the symbols on the drums were not just random markings. They were a warning, a message scrawled in a language she couldn't understand. But it was too late now. The fog had her, and she was being pulled down into the depths of the asylum.

The last thing Rory saw was the word "MINE", scrawled on the operating table. And then, everything went black.

The next morning, the police found Rory's car parked outside the asylum. But she was never seen again. The building was sealed off, and the townspeople whispered of the cursed asylum, where anyone who entered would never come out again.

But the truth was far more sinister. The asylum was not cursed, nor was it haunted by ghosts or monsters. It was simply a place where the boundaries between reality and madness were blurred. And Rory, with her sceptical mind and curious nature, had stumbled into a world that was beyond human comprehension.

The drums, the boiler, and the fog were not just random elements. They were part of a larger machine, one that had been designed to break the human mind. And Rory, with her determination to uncover the truth, had become its latest victim.

The asylum remained standing, a testament to the horrors that lurked in the shadows of the human psyche. And Rory, trapped in a world of madness, was forever lost in the depths of the abandoned asylum.