destructively motivated, or is he just more calculated, waiting for that perfect self-twist of footing to bring us down? My mind is filling with more questions than an over paid Hollywood elite interviewer holding a golden god in her grasp for an hour. The only difference between her and me is if she asks the wrong question the god will just storm out. The devils before us will just storm me.
The closet is within our reach. The gleaming handles reflect the light with a warm glow, forming an almost beacon effect in the dark depths of our situation. Many nights Aimes and I have danced on the bar tables, planning our spins and twists to the time of the tempo vibrating from the live band, but never has the risk been so great before as this dance is now. At most we may have slipped off the edge with a mistimed step, not been torn apart like a piñata by small hands seeking hidden sweets.
Stepping between the boy and my last Angel, I take the first dance step and it brings me closer to the boy than my body wants to be. My stomach recoils from the various scents rolling forward from the horde. Scents that I may of have never been subjected to before, but something deep and primal within me knows them. My mind has become a mantra of calming chants to keep my adrenaline at bay. I know we should be running. I know the basic rule of all horror facts is never to hide. You get the hell out. But what do you do when Hell is between you and the way out?
My hand grasps the handle, and sending a silent prayer up to anything that may be listening to me, I firmly push down, releasing the latch. Conroy begins to struggle against my attempts to guide him inside. He fights and tries to slide away from the same arms he was grappling with to stay close to before. His agitated state excites the monsters before us. Glazed eyes begin to gain focus as his struggles start to become vocal. The small room starts to vibrate with the force of his screaming, “No! Not in there!” The words echo off surfaces as he screams them rapidly, each time giving more animation and speed to the sea of creatures before us. I prepare to shove him into the space, timing the movement with the anticipation of myself having to run when he is safe. I never planned for what was going to happen next. How could I? Plans, like thoughts, often have the highest regrets. Once both of them are started, there is no turning back and we can never see where they will lead us until it is too late.
Something from inside the closet steals his body from me with such force I stumble with it. The door slams shut, sealing him inside, but it does not close upon the sounds of his screams. The small bodies before me begin to beat upon the door following their new nature. Arms reach high at unnatural lengths to reach the handles, ignoring any discomfort it must be causing them. Layer after layer of death-covered small bodies begin to beat and scratch the doors being encouraged by the screams beyond it. They have forgotten me for the moment, I stare in confusion at what has just happened and I stand listening to him scream my name in a melody of his pain, fear, and begging for my help. My body runs cold with the realization of what I have done and I too begin to scream.
Margaret, with her demonic tinted pigtails, is the first to turn to me. Her body language switches back to predator as she moves. Her head cocks slightly back to see up the length of me from her height and those eyes are now bright with eagerness. She separates from the herd a few dragging steps at a time, following me backwards, further away from her best friends forever.
I am no longer filled with fear as my ears are filling with his screams. I do not see this thing inching upon me as an innocent child anymore. The illusion is shattering with the growling from the depths of its throat and crimson half mask it wears. Its small hands curl into claw like formations and reach for me. We both no longer see each other as human, but
The closet is within our reach. The gleaming handles reflect the light with a warm glow, forming an almost beacon effect in the dark depths of our situation. Many nights Aimes and I have danced on the bar tables, planning our spins and twists to the time of the tempo vibrating from the live band, but never has the risk been so great before as this dance is now. At most we may have slipped off the edge with a mistimed step, not been torn apart like a piñata by small hands seeking hidden sweets.
Stepping between the boy and my last Angel, I take the first dance step and it brings me closer to the boy than my body wants to be. My stomach recoils from the various scents rolling forward from the horde. Scents that I may of have never been subjected to before, but something deep and primal within me knows them. My mind has become a mantra of calming chants to keep my adrenaline at bay. I know we should be running. I know the basic rule of all horror facts is never to hide. You get the hell out. But what do you do when Hell is between you and the way out?
My hand grasps the handle, and sending a silent prayer up to anything that may be listening to me, I firmly push down, releasing the latch. Conroy begins to struggle against my attempts to guide him inside. He fights and tries to slide away from the same arms he was grappling with to stay close to before. His agitated state excites the monsters before us. Glazed eyes begin to gain focus as his struggles start to become vocal. The small room starts to vibrate with the force of his screaming, “No! Not in there!” The words echo off surfaces as he screams them rapidly, each time giving more animation and speed to the sea of creatures before us. I prepare to shove him into the space, timing the movement with the anticipation of myself having to run when he is safe. I never planned for what was going to happen next. How could I? Plans, like thoughts, often have the highest regrets. Once both of them are started, there is no turning back and we can never see where they will lead us until it is too late.
Something from inside the closet steals his body from me with such force I stumble with it. The door slams shut, sealing him inside, but it does not close upon the sounds of his screams. The small bodies before me begin to beat upon the door following their new nature. Arms reach high at unnatural lengths to reach the handles, ignoring any discomfort it must be causing them. Layer after layer of death-covered small bodies begin to beat and scratch the doors being encouraged by the screams beyond it. They have forgotten me for the moment, I stare in confusion at what has just happened and I stand listening to him scream my name in a melody of his pain, fear, and begging for my help. My body runs cold with the realization of what I have done and I too begin to scream.
Margaret, with her demonic tinted pigtails, is the first to turn to me. Her body language switches back to predator as she moves. Her head cocks slightly back to see up the length of me from her height and those eyes are now bright with eagerness. She separates from the herd a few dragging steps at a time, following me backwards, further away from her best friends forever.
I am no longer filled with fear as my ears are filling with his screams. I do not see this thing inching upon me as an innocent child anymore. The illusion is shattering with the growling from the depths of its throat and crimson half mask it wears. Its small hands curl into claw like formations and reach for me. We both no longer see each other as human, but
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