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That tapping on the Door…on the windows…Is it you?

8:45 PM

Long dead and forgotten in the tattered shrouds of time, the old room bellowed out in silent melancholy; agony as it called out from beyond the cold, deep grave of maggot ingested darkness, as it called out in vain for salvation from the putrid stench of eternal decay, which had long made bed in its lifeless carcass.

The contorted gaze of rotting torment frowned down from the remains of its once, flesh covered walls, as shadows danced in the flame of some unseen hell upon its lifeless, gray bones.
Dancing, dying; reeling to and fro, they bled out, spilling down and out onto the hard slab of concrete waiting below, spreading like oceans of black blood.

Billy coughed slightly.

From beyond the safety of the blocked door, faint howls of deathly torment filled the distant unseen. In his ears, the sound of death slamming against distant glass echoed, thumping madly, as if to overpower the sound of his own heart, as it pounded against the walls of his chest. The slow creeping death was coming; he could smell it.

Even when locked in one’s own the cage, thought to be safe from the savage ones, the unending death, that feasts on our fears, it still finds a way in. Once thrown into a world of cursed existence, there is no going back. The old world is gone.

This place…this room…this is my casket.

In quiet desperation he stared on, waiting patiently, breathing slowly; gripping the ivory handle of the massive .357 revolver, as though it were life itself, as though the death at the tip of the barrel was the very essence of salvation. Through every shallow breath, he could almost feel hope.

Weak, numb, and slowly fading, he could feel the blood crawling through his icy veins, flowing slowly into the grave, as he sat against an old stack of bundled papers, which had long remained unwanted by human hands, which were as dead and rotted as the old junk parts and rusted tools littered cross the floor; Left at his feet to die with him.

This is how we end up…forgotten and thrown into the dirt…left to rot away.

“I won’t end up that way.” He whispered to himself. “I won‘t be walking death.”
In the cold, dark realm of death’s eternal night, only the softly burning light emanating from above, seemed to be his source of warmth. As the orange glow squeaked back and fourth on it’s rusted chain of hope, it’s arms of dim comfort reached down to hold him within the morbid embrace of painless death and end of suffering, which slowly devoured his body and soul. In the end, nothing can fight off the hungry darkness that creeps from the unknown.

So this is what death feels like?

As icy as the blood seeping through his bandage, a sudden rush of air filled Billy’s burning lungs. From the unseen, it found him. From beyond the gates of despair, it surrounded him, taking him into its arms, as if to carry him into the unknown. Holding his arm, Billy let out a gasp of pain, gritting his teeth at the sight of the horrible wound.

Everything is gone…eaten away. Nothing but death and loneliness exists here anymore…I should have left when I had the chance. Why does it matter anyway? This is all I will ever see again. My lovely Angel, this once beautiful town.

In his mind he could see the things he once loved. The things that once made his life. Now he could only hope they were alive, he could only hope their fate was not his. He could only pray that his efforts were not in vain. To stay behind, to risk his life; what is it worth to sell one’s soul for the life of another?

“This is all for nothing.” He spoke softly to himself. “All for nothing.”

In the weakening grasp of his savagely bruised fingers, he held the revolver close, gazing at it, entranced by the dull light reflecting from its stained surface. In those chilling hours, a tool of such horrid violence and death felt like the only bringer of peace of a world where control and order ceased to exist, where nature had broken down. It had become his savior.

As he slowly spun the gun’s cylinder, time seemed to be forgotten, and the creeping doom, seemed to die away from his mind, even if for a moment. With each click of a passing bullet, a thought of a memory died.

As he fought within his mind to find thoughts and memories of things he couldn’t remember, it found him.

What is that?

Alone and left to the maggots of decay, the battered remains of an old photograph shrieked out in horror unheard. From beyond the shelf where it sat, long abandoned and unloved, the tormented, shadowy faceless crawled upon it’s coffin of glass, scratching, gnawing; seeking to devour the savory flesh hiding within, seeking to feed an unending hunger from which there could be no relief.

That poor old couple…lost and forgotten, just like the picture they once so happily posed for… they never had a clue.

Even From their expressions of happiness, a dark sorrow seemed to resonate, carrying with it, a melancholy prayer, which begged out for salvation from the death they could not escape. As if to hid the desperate struggle within, each smile seemed as though it were holding onto every breath as though it were the last. He closed his hazy eyes.
.
I can hear their heavy gasping…their dog like heaving. I can feel them, their hunger…I can feel the hunger…the fading thoughts of everything that was life, I can feel leaving me.

Around him, he could hear the low growls, he could smell decayed flesh. He could feel a growing hunger, which began to filling his slowly fading mind, replacing everything he knew with something else…something evil.

As saliva dripped from his mouth, Billy found himself unable to control his own thoughts, and though only one memory seemed to remain, he fought to hold onto it, even as he felt it slipping away into darkness. Even his movements weren’t his own. Weak and faded, he gazed down upon the gun in his lap.

Why can’t I feel? Am I becoming them? What has God let upon this earth? This is the end of all things. I have no control…Oh God…can I die now…let me die now.

Suddenly, from out of the distant unseen, the violently shattering of glass took his dying thoughts by surprise, jerking him back into the dark reality, from which he’d left only moments ago. The loud, horrid heaving of hungry death, found its way inside. Against what was once his safe haven, the unseen beat savagely. Moaning, gasping. His dying eyes filled with terror.

They’re so close…I can hear their God forsaken cries of agony and sorrow against the door; their sickening breath seeping through the keyhole…They know I’m here…no God, this can’t be happening.

Like worms of the freshly buried cadaver, beads of sweat began to slowly eat through the lifeless, pale skin of his clammy face. As if seeking refuge from the terrible death that had closed in upon him, they slithered away in horror, leaving only fading reminders of where they had once been. Into his blood soaked shirt, they vanished.

I can feel them…their cold, diseased hands all over me, tearing at me…ripping me apart like rabid wolves…their sickening breath all over me…and those eyes. God why?

Alison…Forgive me.