The door loomed before him. Locked... it was always locked.
Why the hell could he not know what was behind there... in the room.
Forbidden, he'd been told. All the more enticing
He touched the dark oak, ran his fingertips over the smooth, solid surface.
He pressed his face against the wood. It felt warm, inviting...
'Come in,' it seemed to whisper.
He pushed gently on the fine paneling and the door swung open.
He inhaled a sharp breath of surprise, yet still stepped inside the room.
The door clicked shut behind him.
His eyes narrowed as he tried to make out the various shapes in the dark.
A chair? A couch? Something tall, shrouded. A wardrobe perhaps?
He felt drawn to it; his trembling, curious hand stretched out.
A chill touched his spine and he drew back.
The tall shape moved... towards him. 'You're here,' it whispered.
'I've been waiting...'
He shrieked, he stumbled, and backed up against the door.
He fumbled for the doorknob, turning it, twisting it, pulling, pulling...
The shape reached for him, enveloped him in its darkness, muted his screams.
***
The door loomed before her. Locked ... it was always locked...
Good one, JP!
ReplyDeleteCircuitous curiosity.
Beautiful in its arc of inevitability.
ReplyDeleteThanks guys - I wanted this to be longer actually, but maybe it was just enuff!
ReplyDeleteI really like both the content and the form here. The one sentence paragraphs really work to build the tension.
ReplyDeleteThis is very cool, JP. I wouldn't mind longer, though, because I want to know more. I'm always interested in people who live near or with these forbidden rooms. Why can't or don't they leave? How has the story of the forbidden room been passed down? Etc.
ReplyDeleteI like the story as is—especially the circle people have mentioned. I'm also fascinated by the situation, the figure, the furniture, and I can see there being a lot more here.