Hellbound

Chapter Two

"The Devil is real. And he's not a little red man with horns and a tail. He can be beautiful. Because he's a fallen angel, and he used to be God's favorite."

― American Horror Story

*UNEDITED*

Ethan quickly sauntered through the forsaken road. He furrowed his eyebrows, his lips pressed together in a thin line as he wore a piercing glare of determination as his eyes examined each house. Persistence was dead set in his veins.

The wind was wild. A rush of air tousled his hair like a bird with marvelous flight. He walked down the desolated place as the dead leaves he had trampled on had withdrawn and slowly hovered in the air before they settled behind him, onto the rough surface of the road. There was an eerie silence as if the place had been deserted only moments before his arrival.

Despite himself, he felt troubled. For the first time, in a long time he reached the point where he had to veritably distress over someone, other than himself. It was something that he wouldn't dare to admit to anyone.

A cottage came into his sight and he started to pick up his pace. It was very tiny, the only part of it which could be seen was a door made out of wood. The rest of the cottage was made entirely out of stone which was covered in grass.

Ethan walked alongside the pathway which lead to the cottage. Without knocking, he was ready to open the door. As his hand grasped the golden door knob, getting ready to pull, the door abruptly swung open, causing him to stumble in.

His head shot up to see who had opened the door. There stood an old woman, with crinkles all over face. Her eyes seemed dull and cloudy, as though she had seen and endured too many horrors in the world. Her long silver was thinning, as it fell over her shoulders. Her lips dried and cracked.

A faint smirk played on the corner of her lips. "I have been expecting you, my boy."

The walls were moldy from the damp night that began to soak in. The furniture was rotting and stained with morass while the curtains hung listless. The air still as a rock and smelt like decaying corpses. The place was so small it felt as if it was about to cave in. The rocks felt as though they were crumbling, on the brink of collapsing and devouring all those who are underneath it.

As Ethan walked further in, the wooden floor creaked with the voice of a thousand tortured souls. The shadows devour even in the brightest light. The sun was just about setting as it's light shone on the cottage.

Free papers piled up on a wooden table and overflowed to the rough surface of the hardwood floor. The air was thick of dust, as shafts of light broke through the gaps of the boarded up windows. The light cascading through the heavy velvet curtains. Dust covered the floor like a thick carpet, mellowing his footsteps.

The cottage seemed to examine you through the bloodshot eyes of a vicious man.

"A lot has changed since your last visit." She spoke, her gravelly voice straining like a rusted hinge.

"I can tell," Ethan muttered as his eyes wandered around the place with distaste.

She opened her mouth to reply but didn't get a chance to as she was interrupted quickly by Ethan.

"And how did you know that I would be coming?" he snapped, narrowing his eyes.

"I know and see everything," her eyes grew dangerously dark as she threw a piercing glare towards him. "And I have been expecting you, since the mess you had created."

"I expected you of all people to understand why I had done what I did," he said bitterly. "You'd think someone as old as you would be somewhat wise."