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The Door in the Wall
Submitted by cerebral-dream
I awoke at 4:46 a.m. for no logical reason; the house was almost lifeless in its silence. I waited a moment for the cloudiness of my brain to disappear before I got out of bed. I couldn’t tell you why I decided to get up and walk out of my bedroom; I guess I just felt the beckoning of its sinister energy calling to me from behind the walls.
As I opened my bedroom door, it creaked loudly and broke the oppressive silence. That’s when I saw it. Glancing to my left I caught a glimpse of a door in the wall that I hadn’t seen before. It was as if the house had expanded an extra ten feet to create this portal into the darkness. Without hesitation, I sauntered towards the door with both curiosity and a strange sense of peace. Whatever was inside those walls wanted me to come after it. It wanted to befriend me.
A light had begun to emanate around this strange new entrance. The door glowed with a nuclear green so enticing that I could do nothing to stop myself from opening the portal and climbing inside. I looked around the perplexing room, I found myself staring at what seemed to be desk lamps made out of human skin. Oddly, I was not frightened; in fact, I had almost no emotion at all towards this grotesque display of the human form. The lamps surrounded the bed, which sat directly in front of me, soiled and rotten. The whole room smelled like putrid flesh and the bright green glow had subsided to a forest green aura.
I heard a noise to my right; it came out of a corner so dark I had to squint in an attempt to perceive the figure that resided in the blackness. He moved into the light. He did not speak, but somehow I knew what he wanted. I sat down on the bed and watched him creep his way over to sit down next to me. He was scaly and hunched and had a slow crooked walk. His skin even camouflaged him into the walls of the room. The thing that struck me most about this creature were his eyes; they were like black holes into an abyss and staring into them made you feel as if you were falling into that very abyss. There was nothing human about this creature, nothing at all.
He sat down next to me and stroked my hand, as if to say, “Do not fear me,” and I didn’t. I noticed on the desk next to the bed lie a gruesome pair of rusty scissors and what can only be described as a tiny heart-shaped pillow made from human flesh. The pillow was no more than two square inches and it was clearly going through the natural process of decay. He did nothing more than look at me, but once again, I knew what he wanted; he wanted to sew that tiny pillow into me.
I did not struggle, I did not scream, I did not wince, I just watched as he sliced through my right thigh with the rusty scissors until the bone glistened from beneath the muscle. He smiled. He carefully picked up the heart-shaped flesh pillow and tucked it away tightly into my leg. His long dirty fingernails crept along my skin as he watched the pillow settle down into my being. His joy was overwhelming as he reached for a needle and thread to sew me up. I couldn’t help but feel a deep love for this creature suddenly; a kind of love that transcends all human emotion, a love for which there is no word. He sewed me up with care and precision then I promptly got up and left the mysterious room. I limped back into my bedroom and fell back asleep without any difficulty.
The next morning when I woke up, I thought the previous night had been merely a strange and beautiful nightmare. Then suddenly, to my surprise, I felt a horrific surge of pain through my leg. Thinking that it was all in my head, I threw back the covers to prove to myself that the pain was all psychological. The smell hit me before I could actually process what I was seeing; layer upon layer of infection and decay raced through my nasal cavity. I was going to be sick. Was I going to be sick? My head hurt and I was dizzy as I stood up to limp to the bathroom. I drew myself a bath desperately trying to clean the filth off me. It didn’t work.
Days went by before I mentioned my bizarre injury to anyone; who would believe me anyway? When the pain finally became too much to bear, I decided I would show my mother, who worked as a nurse in the local emergency room. I was standing in my living room as she lounged on the couch; I carefully inched down my jeans just enough to expose my right thigh. She gasped and the color instantly drained from her face. “What the hell happened to you?” She was nearly screaming. Before I could answer her, I saw my father slither his way into the room. He stood behind my mother; he put his index finger up to his mouth and mimed “Shhh.” Then from behind his back he pulled out the pair of rusty scissors that were used to slice open my thigh, my blood still stained on the blades. My heart sank. My mother was still staring at me, her mouth gaping and her eyes flooding with tears; she clearly couldn’t compose herself enough to speak again yet. I looked into my father’s eyes for some kind of explanation, but now in place of his eyes were two black holes darker than the deepest black man has ever known. As I peered into them I began to feel like I was falling. Iwas falling. I hit the ground with a painful and echoing thud. The last thing I remember is my father standing over me, rusty scissors in hand, burrowing deep into my soul with those lifeless eyes.