Like Rain

     The smell of rot filled Silvestre's nostrils and she groaned, for her head was aching in almost unbearable pain. Upon opening her eyes, she discovered that she was in a strange room. It was an old, worn bedroom, drapes shredded, bed sheets stained with blood and torn, and the paint on the walls were peeling off.

     The place appeared to have been abandoned for years. Slowly, realization had begun to sink in, she did not know how she had arrived in such a run-down place. Getting up from the ground had been a struggle as she tried to regain her balance. Silvestre held onto a bedpost as she attempted to stand, she failed miserably and fell.     

     She sighed in frustration and closed her eyes, if only for a moment. The room had the odor of dirt and rot. She suddenly heard footsteps approaching the room in which she currently resided. As the footsteps got louder she began to panic. In a rush she managed to balance herself on her two feet against the bedpost.

     Silvestre had begun to shake uncontrollably. "What if they will help me out of this revolting place," she thought. Before she could call out for help, the footsteps had already reached the door. The door creaked open and a pair of glowing red eyes could be seen. As Silvestre's eyes began to adjust to the dark figure, she noticed the dark stains on its clothing.

     "Finally, my meal has awoken," it said in a voice that she would later remember as the voice of a demon. "I have always loved my food to be awake when I," the being paused, "feast upon them." Silvestre could see the glint of a demented smile in the dim moonlight shining through the windows.

     Silvestre gulped down her fear, determined to find her way out. "What do you mean by meal?" she asked, almost in a whisper.

     Its sharp teeth glinted against the light. "Don't worry dear," it laughed, "I tend to play with my food before I devour them slowly, painfully." Silvestre's eyes widened in fear as the dark being began laughing hysterically.

     She pushed past him, stumbling into the hallway. Silvestre gained full balance and ran before tripping and falling onto the rotting wood below. She felt something sticky on her hands as she stood up. The candles that adorned the halls flickered to life, giving off the faintest of light. Silvestre looked down at her hands in disbelief, they were coated in blood. She let out a gut retching scream as the blood dripped from her hands.

     The laughter of the demon began to drive her slowly insane. She gripped her hair in her bloody hands, trying to keep her sanity. As she looked down she saw the decaying carcass of a human, decaying and rotting at her feet. She lowered her hands slowly, breathing rapidly increasing, and she began to feel tears streaming down her face.

     "Do you like my masterpiece, Silvestre? Don't be jealous, for you will join them soon enough," the being was whispering into her ear. It was too close, and her sanity was running thin. Of course, the demon knew exactly what he was doing, he had drove hundreds if not thousands of people to the point of insanity.

     Silvestre fell to her knees and asked softly, "Who are you?" Silvestre's voice was cracking as she spoke.

     "How very rude of me, my name is Drago." The demon disappeared in a cloud of wispy black fog, blacker than any black she had seen.

     Silvestre stood up and ran down the hall into another room, where she leaned against the doorway to catch her breath. Her eyes closed as her lungs heaved, she collapsed against the doorway. She became unconscious.

     The demon appeared and sighed, "How pitiful, I was hoping you would last longer." It crouched down and stroked the girl's cheek with a sharp fingernail, scratching her cheek in the process. The small wound started the bleed slightly, a small bead of blood falling, like rain, onto her white shirt. Drago disappeared before the girl could wake, thinking of more ways to terrorized her before killing her.

     Silvestre woke up minutes later. Upon awaking her eyes traveled to the room she was partially in. Bodies hung from the ceiling, hooks lodged in their necks. She wanted to vomit, but her body wouldn't allow her to, for she had nothing in her stomach to do so.

     Silvestre crawled out of the doorway and back into the hall. As she continued to crawl she noticed bodies strew about the floor, hanging, and even leaned against the walls. Some looked fresh, others were old and rotting. The terrorized girl stood and walked to a staircase leading downward into darkness.

     "Come on down dear, " a demonic voice said, "we could have so much fun." Silvestre ran the opposite direction until she hit something soft. The girl looked up and saw those glowing red eyes and that demented smile.

     He pushed her up against a wall by her throat, lifting her into the air. She tried to breath as her lungs started to burn. Her eyes started pouring tears and she clawed at the hands around her neck. Silvestre could feel herself losing consciousness and she blacked out. Except this time, she would never wake again.

The wound had still been bleeding on her cheek. The demon wiped it way as it laid her dead body down against the wall. "Just like a gentle rain," the entity whispered to himself as the blood continued dripping.