Brett H.
04-04-2008, 02:18 AM
I wrote these... for no real reasons and they stand as the only real fiction (well... Jack Conners and NFs, but you get the idea) I've ever written. I figure I'd post 'em here in case someone was bored. I didn't spend too much time writing them, so the second story's dialogue may be more than a little cheesy in the lovey dovey parts and uh... erotic?
The Red Door
I was never the best student in school. I wasn't too kind with the teachers, and they weren't too kind with me. In 1981, I was 12 years old, an age where you're either a kid or a step away being a young man, depending on who you talk to. Or, how they're feeling at that particular time of the day. My mother always referred to me as a year older than I was. Sometimes two, depending on how bad what I had done was.
I came home from school one Friday evening to find an empty living room. I walked into the kitchen. No one. I walked down the stairs and heard the sound of items being shuffled about, my mother and father's voices indistinct in the clatter. They were in my room. I stepped slowly over to the door and stood there, watching them. My mother threw my Atari 2600 video game console that I had gotten for my 10th birthday into a box, my Pitfall! and Space Invaders game cartridges tossed on top. Joysticks and cords tangled in a mess. I always hated that. No matter how careful you were, those cords always got intertwined.
I finally spoke up. “What’s going on?” I said, puzzled. My mom heard me and looked up. My father continued filling boxes. She nudged my father and he looked into my eyes with that familiar look he'd given me before. A "man-to-man" talk was in the making. I knew I hadn’t done anything wrong in weeks. Thus, in this man-to-man, I would be a step away from being the young man rather than the child. If I was asking to stay out past 10:00, it’d be man-to-boy. But, that’s how parents are. Looking back now, I get it, but back then it was all Greek to me.
“Son,” my father began, “I’ve taken a job in Milwaukee. And, we have to go now because I start on Monday. It’s tough, buddy, but there’s nothing we can do.” I stared blankly at him. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to tell that this was coming and I knew nothing I said would change anything. I figured I had to try, though. “But, all my friends are here, we can’t go.” I pleaded, “We’re playing in the league championship next week, the boys won’t have a goalie. Did you forget that I was on a hockey team? You’re never at the games.” My father looked at me like a puppy that had been kicked by his owner. I knew this would sting. He wanted me to play hockey more than anyone. Including me.
“Aaron, you know I have to work late sometimes. And you don’t push your plate away at supper, now do you?” I remained silent. “Do you?” he repeated himself. I looked down at the floor and at my mother looking at me. “No.” I said. There was no hope. We were going to Milwaukee. They knew it and I knew it. Defeated, I screamed “WHY THE FUCK DO WE ALWAYS HAVE TO MOVE?” My dad heard that curse word and glared at me with a piercing stare that would make every demon in hell take a step back. I didn’t say a thing. None of us did for the next two hours.
The car ride to Milwaukee was long to say the least. My father drove all night and my mom half the day before we finally arrived. Somewhere along the way, I overheard them talking about the place we’d be staying. My father had rented an old house about 45 minutes from Milwaukee, just outside Johnson Creek. They said it was temporary. I wanted to make a joke in which my father would be transferred by the time we got there to a new place, but I figured I was really doing a number on them with the silent treatment, so I’d keep it up. I slept most of that trip, thinking about my friends from school and the boys on the hockey team. Hell, I even thought about the teachers I hated.
I slept most of the trip, dozing in and out the whole way. I was awake as we pulled into the yard on this old farmhouse. There were two barns a few hundred yards away from the house, dried up old shacks without a stitch of paint left on them. The house itself was huge, two stories, white with a brown roof, a large deck surrounding the front. My father stopped the car and looked at me, giving me a key. “Let’s start this off right. Go in, check the place out. Your mother and I will unpack.” He said. I said nothing in return, I simply unbuckled my seatbelt and stepped outside.
My mother and father stayed in the car, talking I presume. I slowly walked up the small slope to the towering house, looking around and taking in all I could. A crow sat atop the roof and cawed, seemingly watching me. I thought nothing of it and continued walking. I approached the deck and put my foot on the step. It made a creaking sound that seemed to echo around me. There were some old tubs and buckets strewn about the deck, but it was mostly clean. I stopped at the door and looked back at my parents, they finally had got out of the car and were in the U-Haul truck. A large, dead oak tree stood lopsided to the left of the car.
I put the key in the door and turned it. I heard the pop, showing the door was now open for my entry. I turned the knob and it creaked and when I pushed the door in it creaked even more. I gazed upon the inside of the house. The place was in remarkable shape for the age of it, even the inside remained fairly clean. Rays of light shone in through the windows, lighting the way. I jumped as my imagination ran wild and I could have sworn I say the outline of a wolf in the reflection of the light on the walls. I shook it off and laughed. The door closed behind me and I looked to my left and saw the kitchen. Uninterested, I walked to my right.
To the right was a hallway, with seven doors, three on each side and one at the end. Every door except one was white. The door at the end of the wall was red. I opened the door closest to me and walked in. A bedroom. Boring. I walked to the middle of the hall and opened the door. Inside, a simple storage closet. Unimpressed, I walked down the hall towards the end. The floorboards creaked and the hall suddenly became incredibly dusty. I stopped at the end and wrote my name slowly and neatly on the red door.
I cautiously opened the door and looked in. It was completely black, I couldn’t see an inch in front of me. I reached into the darkness and felt around. Nothing. I took a step in slowly, my foot stepping on a creaky floorboard, and tried feeling for a wall again. All I felt was the damp air surrounding my body, my fingers cutting through the humid, dank atmosphere of the mysterious room like knives. I was now a full step into the room. Still nothing. I stopped when suddenly the door slammed behind me and the floorboards broke from under me. I fell hard onto the ground below, dust in my eyes, I tried to get up when a board fell and slammed me on the back of my neck.
Throwing the board off me, I rubbed my eyes vigorously, struggling to see, stumbling about. My eyes watered and my neck ached, a splitting headache throbbing through my mind. Hints of red light began shining in my eyes as low moans could be heard far away. Terrified, I struggled to gain my composure and could now see. The room, if you could call it that, seemed endless. I turned around to try to climb back up to the red door and get out, but I couldn’t find it. I was lost somewhere beyond the red door.
I panicked, screaming and yelling for help, but to no avail. There were pits and chasms, rivers of blood and bats flying about through the room. I curled into a ball and lay on the ground in the dirt. The dirt wasn’t like anything I’d seen before. It was very sharp and completely black. I rocked back and forth and screamed, “HELP!” once again before a loud voice echoed “Aaron…” throughout the place. I heard someone, something approach me and I looked up. It was a boy, no more than three, riding his tricycle. He looked at me and told me that it was all right. I smiled and got up. “Show me how to get out of here, please!” I screamed, pleading with him. The young boy, dressed in tattered, dirty clothes, looked me dead in the eye, “In hell, no one can hear you scream.”
He pedaled his bike further into the red abyss before stopping. “This is as far as I can take you.” He said. I heard the loud voice echo again from afar, “Aaron…” I looked into the infinite red and asked the boy, “Who is that?” He put the brakes on his tricycle and turned back to me, “It’s the master. Best not make him mad. Otherwise…” Suddenly a loud bang came from the boy and he burst into flames and screamed, his skin melting into his tricycle like wax, clinging along the handlebars and frame. I screamed and jumped backwards, as fire and flesh spit from the tricycle. I got up and screamed, having lost my sense of direction, I ran, tripping over the dark, sharp dirt, blood trickling down my hands and onto the ground, a burning hiss sounding with every drop.
Suddenly, the red light went out and the entire room went dark. I could feel bugs crawling all over my body and I frantically brushed them off, their bites stinging me. Just as quickly, the room lit up again, this time in yellow. Green mist spread around the room. “Aaron…” I heard the voice call to me. “WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT, YOU ASSHOLE?” I yelled. A wind began to pick up and it began blowing hard, sending the sharp dirt into my eyes and face once again. I stumbled about and ran, running until the wind stopped blowing. I rubbed my eyes and stood still as the room remained a silent, deadly calm. I heard the scream of an old lady and looked up, finally being able to see. An old lady was standing before a huge being with a pale, skull-like face. With one dreaded swing of his scythe, he took the front of her face clean off. Blood squirted all over me and her face fell to my feet. Screaming, I kicked it away. The being disappeared as my foot touched the severed face.
And then there was silence. For a few moments, all I saw was yellow light and the green mist. All of the sudden, the ground began to crack, red lava flowed underneath the dirt and the heat began to rise, burning my face. I jumped back and shielded myself as a towering throne emerged from the molten rock. I choked on the dust as I heard the voice again, “Aaron…” In agony, I simply replied, “Fuck you, you piece of shit.” I shook and shivered as though I had fallen into icy water, sweat pouring down my face in the heat of the abyss. The dust settled and I looked up. The green mist retracted and unveiled the largest being I have ever seen. To this day I don’t know what it was, but I believe I saw the devil himself.
The beast sat atop a humongous throne and hurled fireballs down around me, they crashed into the ground with magnificent force and the room began to fill with smoke and shake. The demons cackled an ungodly hiss as he laughed at me. “I need your soul, Aaron. Bring it to me.” I jumped up to my feet, choking, and I ran as fast as I could. “Your soul, Aaron.” The voice said. I continued running, paying no attention to it. I had to try to get out.
Behind me, a screeching sound began. I turned and looked at the beast in the yellow light, his horns protruding sharp, exhaling a massive cloud of smoke with every breath, his arms began stretching, his 8 foot claws coming at me fast. I ran and ran, kicking up dust like I’ve never kicked up dust before. Where I was running to, I didn’t know. The claws got closer and closer until I felt the very tip of the claw slice into my back, but I kept on going. I screamed as the voice calmly stated, “Your soul, Aaron.” I made up a few feet on the beast before I heard a loud scream, the loudest noise I’ve ever heard. I thought my head was going to explode. I looked back as I ran and the beast took a desperate swipe at me.
I felt it hit my back and that’s when I jumped, crashing through a wall. I looked up, aimlessly, wondering what was next. I was back in the house. I heard footsteps coming from outside. I screamed as my parents opened the door. I ran to them, screaming, “He wants my soul! He wants my soul!” and jumped into my mother’s arms. “Who wants your soul?!” My mother asked concerned. “The man behind the red door!” I cried. “The red door?” she asked. “At the end of the hall!” I yelled, trying to get out of the house. My dad grabbed hold of my hand and held it so tightly that I could not get away. “Where?” My father asked.
I pointed at the end of the hall, not being able to look. My father muttered, annoyed, “Aaron, there’s no door at the end of the hall…”
---
HAND IN HAND
The weather was calm on a sweet July afternoon outside the busiest hotel in town, the Cottonwood Hotel. Although it’s not the most fancy place in world, the small town North Dakota folk didn't seem to mind. A woman walks in through the door, wearing the traditional maid uniform. She's a mature lady, no older than 35, no younger than 30. She wouldn’t be the best-looking girl at the ball, but her eyes, oh, her eyes. They’re the type of eyes that would make a young man blush and a dirty, old man grin. As she passes by the front desk, the handsome clerk greets her with a soothing, "Hello, Kirsty." She replies with a smile and a hello of her own. Kirsty walks across the foyer, unlocks the door and enters a maintenance room, filled with sprays, fresh linen and the complimentary pillow mints. She loads up her cart with the day's necessary supplies and exits the room.
She walks down the hall, taking note of do not disturb cards clinging to the doorknobs on the first few rows of rooms. She stops at room 112 and knocks on the door. Her knock is not answered, so she fumbles through her keys and opens the door. She enters and notices the brief mess. It's not too bad. Pizza boxes here, messed up bed there. Kirsty picks up the trash and puts it in its place before stripping the bed, placing the used bedding onto the floor. She cleans the mattress and brings in new linen from her cart. With much expertise, she gently tucks the sheets into the bed, adding all the appropriate blankets and pillows to make it proper. She goes to take the old bedding out and a condom wrapper falls out onto the floor. She exhales softly, eyes rolled, dropping the linens and picks up the wrapper with the tips of her index finger and thumb, her nose slightly upturned. She discards it into the trash and picks up the dirty bedding.
She repeats this cycle for the next rooms as needed. It’s a very average day. She nears the end of the hall when her eyes brighten. She reaches onto her cart and pulls out breath spray, shooting it into her luscious, soft mouth. Her accomplished hand drops the spray onto her cart as she pulls out another bottle. She takes a look around and gently sprays it onto her neck and down her blouse into her well-filled bra. The smell is a soft, citrus essence. His favorite. Kirsty sternly knocks on the door.
"Who is it?" A man's calm and relaxing voice acknowledges her,
"Kirsty, sweetie…" She says, licking her lips, checking herself in a pocket mirror,
For a moment, there is silence.
"Gavin?" she says.
"Come in, baby." The man says, after a pause.
Kirsty smiles and adjusts her breasts. Not that they needed it. She opens the door with her staff key and looks in. No one is to be found, but the shower can be heard running in the bathroom. The smile turns into a grin as she struts towards the bed.
"Getting ready so you look your best for me, Gav-ey?" Kirsty quips before hearing a small thud from the bathroom.
"Gav, are you okay?" she asks, concerned.
"Yeah babe, I slipped!"
Kirsty unbuttons her top, her lavish chest bulging out of her push-up bra, she giggles along with him, "My clumsy baby need mommy to come in and help him?"
"Not yet..." Gavin replies.
"Aw," Kirsty sobs, "That's too bad..." She falls onto the bed, her long brown hair flowing behind her and places her hand behind her head.
"Today, I have something special planned, Kirst. Something sweet, something cute."
"You're going to put a bow on it, honey?"
"No," Gavin giggles and pauses, "well, maybe..."
"Ouuu, I can't wait." Kirsty says, her left hand drifting through her hair, her right index finger softly circling around her now exposed belly button.
"What are you wearing?"
"My uniform, part of it at least."
"Well, that's no good."
"Don't worry. It won't be on for long. In fact, it's coming off now."
Kirsty slowly slides off the bottom of her uniform. Her cozy, curvaceous, lightly brown body exposed by her tiny thong. With a quick swipe of her fingers, she is now completely naked, her thong intertwined in her fingers.
"I'm coming in, Gav. No need to be shy. Not like it's the first time." Kirsty notes.
"No," Gavin says softly, his voice barely heard of the shower, "today we do something much sexier."
"How is that possible?"
"Maybe we'll invite your husband in this time..." Gavin jokes, a deceitful grin is surely on his face.
"Ooh. Two heads are better than one. But, I think it'd be a little awkward. You two are so much alike. You look the same, you wear the same cologne, and you even sound the same. It'd be like doing twin brothers. Yuck!”
"Way to kill the mood!"
"You love it," Kirsty notes, her fingers getting ready to explore elsewhere, "he wouldn't know what to do anyways. That's why I have you, you fuck like a porn star."
"So, I'm just a piece of meat to you?" Gavin retorts, jokingly.
"Yes. And a big one at that..." Kirsty adds, holding her hands a foot apart before dwindling the size to five.
Silence ensues for a brief moment, her smile now ceases, and a serious look comes upon her face.
"You know that's not true, baby." Kirsty says.
"Aw, do I? Tell me why it's not true again."
"Well, you're sweet, kind... you care about me." Kirsty empties her heart, "and you make me feel like I am something special."
"That's because you are, sweets."
"And, do you know what really makes me love you?" Kirsty adds, a genuine smile lighting up her face.
"What's that?" Gavin inquires.
"After you've made love to me you caress me, kiss me. You stare into my eyes and read my thoughts. And I fall asleep before you do..." Kirsty trembles, her fingers shaking just thinking of it, "and all the while, you hold my hand, like a schoolyard romance."
"Hand in hand?" Gavin states.
"Hand in hand." She replies.
"Please, don't tell my friends that." Gavin says after a pause, kidding.
"Oh, I won't. And, I won't tell my girlfriends that either."
"By all means, feel free. I won' t mind."
"No, Gav-ey. You're all mine. If only that certain someone would sign my walking papers, we'd be free."
"What's his name again?" Gavin asks.
"Brian."
"I see. But, we didn't come here to talk about him. Stand up, come closer to the wall."
Kirsty grins, getting up and moving closer to the wall. She's fully naked now, her bountiful breasts standing beautifully off of her body. She's muscular and her body has just started to begin to show the natural beauty signs that age brings. She knocks on the wall to show she's near. He taps back. Their naked bodies separated by a mere wooden barricade.
"If only I'd have known you back in high school." Gavin says.
"Oh, a role-play. I like this."
"I'd ask you out in the gym. I'd be really shy about it. Naturally."
"But, you'd have nothing to worry about. I'd blurt out a yes before you even finished your sentence." Kirsty says.
"Then, I'd say that I'd pick you up at seven, like a true gentleman."
"When you got there, would you open the door for me?"
"Mm-hmm."
"And, when our date was over, when you dropped me off, what would you do?"
"I'd get out of the car and open your door. I'd thank you for a great night and I would give you a soft hug to show my appreciation."
Kirsty smiles, her hand now cupping her breast. "Mm, that'd be nice. After I'd hold your hand," she pauses, "and then I'd lean in and kiss you softly."
"I'd smile, shocked at the comfort you show in me."
"Then, I'd inform you that my parents weren't home and that you could come in. I'd hold your hand tightly and begin to walk up."
"I wouldn't have a say in the matter?" Gavin asks, shocked.
"Nope. You're all mine. And, then we'd go in slowly and up to my room. We'd sit down on the bed..."
"And, we'd begin to kiss and touch." Gavin adds.
"Yes," Kirsty shakes her head, her body pressed against the wall, "and, I'd slide off my top and watch you watch me before I slid down my jeans and panties..."
Kirsty begins to tremble and touch herself softly.
"And then I'd hold you in my arms and lay you softly on your bed. I'd take your hand in mine as I lay on top of you, my clothes now gone as well. Can you feel me pressing against you? Gavin asks.
"Yes..." Kirsty says, her body now firmly against the wall. She moans and pants between words, sweat beginning to slide down her face.
"I'd look into your eyes and ask you if you've ever done this before."
"I'd blush and shake my head softly, saying shyly 'it's my first time.' " Kirsty says.
"I would ask if you were ready, and you'd nod. Then, I'd gently slide inside of you. Your hand in mine." Gavin says.
"Hand in hand..." Kirsty responds, now fully pleasuring herself, "I have to come in there now. I need you. I love you, Gavin."
"I love you, too." Gavin replies.
Kirsty keeps her hands on herself, walking to the bathroom door. She tries to open it, but it's locked. She bites her lip, unable to contain herself. She hears the door unlock.
"Close your eyes..." Gavin commands softly.
Kirsty closes her eyes as a hand reaches out of the door. His large, wet hand elegantly envelopes hers.
"Open your eyes, angel." Gavin says impeccably.
Kirsty opens here eyes. They grow wide as her face turns from a look of bliss to a look of terror. The hand holding hers is wet with blood, the other hand tightly grips an axe. She's unable to move, barely able to speak.
"Brian... what..." Kirsty screams, trying to break free of his grip.
Brian moves slightly and grins fiendishly. His movement gives Kirsty plain sight of the bathtub. A cold shower is barely running, the badly mutilated body of Gavin lying in a tub of crimson and ice. His face caved in vertically, eyeballs missing, a ghastly expression on his face. Kirsty cries, trying to regain her composure. Still screaming, she tries to break free from her ex-lover's crushing grip once again, pulling hard and digging her fingernails into his arms.
"Hand in hand... in hell." Brian says sinisterly as he raises the axe and plants it ferociously into the beautiful face of Kirsty. She drops to the floor, her once seraphic eyes devoid of life. With one hand grapping tightly on Kirsty's lifeless limb, the other disappears into his pocket and draws out a razor blade. Without hesitation, he pierces his throat and drags the edge over the jugular vein with one brisk slice before falling onto the floor, his body shrouding hers.
The Red Door
I was never the best student in school. I wasn't too kind with the teachers, and they weren't too kind with me. In 1981, I was 12 years old, an age where you're either a kid or a step away being a young man, depending on who you talk to. Or, how they're feeling at that particular time of the day. My mother always referred to me as a year older than I was. Sometimes two, depending on how bad what I had done was.
I came home from school one Friday evening to find an empty living room. I walked into the kitchen. No one. I walked down the stairs and heard the sound of items being shuffled about, my mother and father's voices indistinct in the clatter. They were in my room. I stepped slowly over to the door and stood there, watching them. My mother threw my Atari 2600 video game console that I had gotten for my 10th birthday into a box, my Pitfall! and Space Invaders game cartridges tossed on top. Joysticks and cords tangled in a mess. I always hated that. No matter how careful you were, those cords always got intertwined.
I finally spoke up. “What’s going on?” I said, puzzled. My mom heard me and looked up. My father continued filling boxes. She nudged my father and he looked into my eyes with that familiar look he'd given me before. A "man-to-man" talk was in the making. I knew I hadn’t done anything wrong in weeks. Thus, in this man-to-man, I would be a step away from being the young man rather than the child. If I was asking to stay out past 10:00, it’d be man-to-boy. But, that’s how parents are. Looking back now, I get it, but back then it was all Greek to me.
“Son,” my father began, “I’ve taken a job in Milwaukee. And, we have to go now because I start on Monday. It’s tough, buddy, but there’s nothing we can do.” I stared blankly at him. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to tell that this was coming and I knew nothing I said would change anything. I figured I had to try, though. “But, all my friends are here, we can’t go.” I pleaded, “We’re playing in the league championship next week, the boys won’t have a goalie. Did you forget that I was on a hockey team? You’re never at the games.” My father looked at me like a puppy that had been kicked by his owner. I knew this would sting. He wanted me to play hockey more than anyone. Including me.
“Aaron, you know I have to work late sometimes. And you don’t push your plate away at supper, now do you?” I remained silent. “Do you?” he repeated himself. I looked down at the floor and at my mother looking at me. “No.” I said. There was no hope. We were going to Milwaukee. They knew it and I knew it. Defeated, I screamed “WHY THE FUCK DO WE ALWAYS HAVE TO MOVE?” My dad heard that curse word and glared at me with a piercing stare that would make every demon in hell take a step back. I didn’t say a thing. None of us did for the next two hours.
The car ride to Milwaukee was long to say the least. My father drove all night and my mom half the day before we finally arrived. Somewhere along the way, I overheard them talking about the place we’d be staying. My father had rented an old house about 45 minutes from Milwaukee, just outside Johnson Creek. They said it was temporary. I wanted to make a joke in which my father would be transferred by the time we got there to a new place, but I figured I was really doing a number on them with the silent treatment, so I’d keep it up. I slept most of that trip, thinking about my friends from school and the boys on the hockey team. Hell, I even thought about the teachers I hated.
I slept most of the trip, dozing in and out the whole way. I was awake as we pulled into the yard on this old farmhouse. There were two barns a few hundred yards away from the house, dried up old shacks without a stitch of paint left on them. The house itself was huge, two stories, white with a brown roof, a large deck surrounding the front. My father stopped the car and looked at me, giving me a key. “Let’s start this off right. Go in, check the place out. Your mother and I will unpack.” He said. I said nothing in return, I simply unbuckled my seatbelt and stepped outside.
My mother and father stayed in the car, talking I presume. I slowly walked up the small slope to the towering house, looking around and taking in all I could. A crow sat atop the roof and cawed, seemingly watching me. I thought nothing of it and continued walking. I approached the deck and put my foot on the step. It made a creaking sound that seemed to echo around me. There were some old tubs and buckets strewn about the deck, but it was mostly clean. I stopped at the door and looked back at my parents, they finally had got out of the car and were in the U-Haul truck. A large, dead oak tree stood lopsided to the left of the car.
I put the key in the door and turned it. I heard the pop, showing the door was now open for my entry. I turned the knob and it creaked and when I pushed the door in it creaked even more. I gazed upon the inside of the house. The place was in remarkable shape for the age of it, even the inside remained fairly clean. Rays of light shone in through the windows, lighting the way. I jumped as my imagination ran wild and I could have sworn I say the outline of a wolf in the reflection of the light on the walls. I shook it off and laughed. The door closed behind me and I looked to my left and saw the kitchen. Uninterested, I walked to my right.
To the right was a hallway, with seven doors, three on each side and one at the end. Every door except one was white. The door at the end of the wall was red. I opened the door closest to me and walked in. A bedroom. Boring. I walked to the middle of the hall and opened the door. Inside, a simple storage closet. Unimpressed, I walked down the hall towards the end. The floorboards creaked and the hall suddenly became incredibly dusty. I stopped at the end and wrote my name slowly and neatly on the red door.
I cautiously opened the door and looked in. It was completely black, I couldn’t see an inch in front of me. I reached into the darkness and felt around. Nothing. I took a step in slowly, my foot stepping on a creaky floorboard, and tried feeling for a wall again. All I felt was the damp air surrounding my body, my fingers cutting through the humid, dank atmosphere of the mysterious room like knives. I was now a full step into the room. Still nothing. I stopped when suddenly the door slammed behind me and the floorboards broke from under me. I fell hard onto the ground below, dust in my eyes, I tried to get up when a board fell and slammed me on the back of my neck.
Throwing the board off me, I rubbed my eyes vigorously, struggling to see, stumbling about. My eyes watered and my neck ached, a splitting headache throbbing through my mind. Hints of red light began shining in my eyes as low moans could be heard far away. Terrified, I struggled to gain my composure and could now see. The room, if you could call it that, seemed endless. I turned around to try to climb back up to the red door and get out, but I couldn’t find it. I was lost somewhere beyond the red door.
I panicked, screaming and yelling for help, but to no avail. There were pits and chasms, rivers of blood and bats flying about through the room. I curled into a ball and lay on the ground in the dirt. The dirt wasn’t like anything I’d seen before. It was very sharp and completely black. I rocked back and forth and screamed, “HELP!” once again before a loud voice echoed “Aaron…” throughout the place. I heard someone, something approach me and I looked up. It was a boy, no more than three, riding his tricycle. He looked at me and told me that it was all right. I smiled and got up. “Show me how to get out of here, please!” I screamed, pleading with him. The young boy, dressed in tattered, dirty clothes, looked me dead in the eye, “In hell, no one can hear you scream.”
He pedaled his bike further into the red abyss before stopping. “This is as far as I can take you.” He said. I heard the loud voice echo again from afar, “Aaron…” I looked into the infinite red and asked the boy, “Who is that?” He put the brakes on his tricycle and turned back to me, “It’s the master. Best not make him mad. Otherwise…” Suddenly a loud bang came from the boy and he burst into flames and screamed, his skin melting into his tricycle like wax, clinging along the handlebars and frame. I screamed and jumped backwards, as fire and flesh spit from the tricycle. I got up and screamed, having lost my sense of direction, I ran, tripping over the dark, sharp dirt, blood trickling down my hands and onto the ground, a burning hiss sounding with every drop.
Suddenly, the red light went out and the entire room went dark. I could feel bugs crawling all over my body and I frantically brushed them off, their bites stinging me. Just as quickly, the room lit up again, this time in yellow. Green mist spread around the room. “Aaron…” I heard the voice call to me. “WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT, YOU ASSHOLE?” I yelled. A wind began to pick up and it began blowing hard, sending the sharp dirt into my eyes and face once again. I stumbled about and ran, running until the wind stopped blowing. I rubbed my eyes and stood still as the room remained a silent, deadly calm. I heard the scream of an old lady and looked up, finally being able to see. An old lady was standing before a huge being with a pale, skull-like face. With one dreaded swing of his scythe, he took the front of her face clean off. Blood squirted all over me and her face fell to my feet. Screaming, I kicked it away. The being disappeared as my foot touched the severed face.
And then there was silence. For a few moments, all I saw was yellow light and the green mist. All of the sudden, the ground began to crack, red lava flowed underneath the dirt and the heat began to rise, burning my face. I jumped back and shielded myself as a towering throne emerged from the molten rock. I choked on the dust as I heard the voice again, “Aaron…” In agony, I simply replied, “Fuck you, you piece of shit.” I shook and shivered as though I had fallen into icy water, sweat pouring down my face in the heat of the abyss. The dust settled and I looked up. The green mist retracted and unveiled the largest being I have ever seen. To this day I don’t know what it was, but I believe I saw the devil himself.
The beast sat atop a humongous throne and hurled fireballs down around me, they crashed into the ground with magnificent force and the room began to fill with smoke and shake. The demons cackled an ungodly hiss as he laughed at me. “I need your soul, Aaron. Bring it to me.” I jumped up to my feet, choking, and I ran as fast as I could. “Your soul, Aaron.” The voice said. I continued running, paying no attention to it. I had to try to get out.
Behind me, a screeching sound began. I turned and looked at the beast in the yellow light, his horns protruding sharp, exhaling a massive cloud of smoke with every breath, his arms began stretching, his 8 foot claws coming at me fast. I ran and ran, kicking up dust like I’ve never kicked up dust before. Where I was running to, I didn’t know. The claws got closer and closer until I felt the very tip of the claw slice into my back, but I kept on going. I screamed as the voice calmly stated, “Your soul, Aaron.” I made up a few feet on the beast before I heard a loud scream, the loudest noise I’ve ever heard. I thought my head was going to explode. I looked back as I ran and the beast took a desperate swipe at me.
I felt it hit my back and that’s when I jumped, crashing through a wall. I looked up, aimlessly, wondering what was next. I was back in the house. I heard footsteps coming from outside. I screamed as my parents opened the door. I ran to them, screaming, “He wants my soul! He wants my soul!” and jumped into my mother’s arms. “Who wants your soul?!” My mother asked concerned. “The man behind the red door!” I cried. “The red door?” she asked. “At the end of the hall!” I yelled, trying to get out of the house. My dad grabbed hold of my hand and held it so tightly that I could not get away. “Where?” My father asked.
I pointed at the end of the hall, not being able to look. My father muttered, annoyed, “Aaron, there’s no door at the end of the hall…”
---
HAND IN HAND
The weather was calm on a sweet July afternoon outside the busiest hotel in town, the Cottonwood Hotel. Although it’s not the most fancy place in world, the small town North Dakota folk didn't seem to mind. A woman walks in through the door, wearing the traditional maid uniform. She's a mature lady, no older than 35, no younger than 30. She wouldn’t be the best-looking girl at the ball, but her eyes, oh, her eyes. They’re the type of eyes that would make a young man blush and a dirty, old man grin. As she passes by the front desk, the handsome clerk greets her with a soothing, "Hello, Kirsty." She replies with a smile and a hello of her own. Kirsty walks across the foyer, unlocks the door and enters a maintenance room, filled with sprays, fresh linen and the complimentary pillow mints. She loads up her cart with the day's necessary supplies and exits the room.
She walks down the hall, taking note of do not disturb cards clinging to the doorknobs on the first few rows of rooms. She stops at room 112 and knocks on the door. Her knock is not answered, so she fumbles through her keys and opens the door. She enters and notices the brief mess. It's not too bad. Pizza boxes here, messed up bed there. Kirsty picks up the trash and puts it in its place before stripping the bed, placing the used bedding onto the floor. She cleans the mattress and brings in new linen from her cart. With much expertise, she gently tucks the sheets into the bed, adding all the appropriate blankets and pillows to make it proper. She goes to take the old bedding out and a condom wrapper falls out onto the floor. She exhales softly, eyes rolled, dropping the linens and picks up the wrapper with the tips of her index finger and thumb, her nose slightly upturned. She discards it into the trash and picks up the dirty bedding.
She repeats this cycle for the next rooms as needed. It’s a very average day. She nears the end of the hall when her eyes brighten. She reaches onto her cart and pulls out breath spray, shooting it into her luscious, soft mouth. Her accomplished hand drops the spray onto her cart as she pulls out another bottle. She takes a look around and gently sprays it onto her neck and down her blouse into her well-filled bra. The smell is a soft, citrus essence. His favorite. Kirsty sternly knocks on the door.
"Who is it?" A man's calm and relaxing voice acknowledges her,
"Kirsty, sweetie…" She says, licking her lips, checking herself in a pocket mirror,
For a moment, there is silence.
"Gavin?" she says.
"Come in, baby." The man says, after a pause.
Kirsty smiles and adjusts her breasts. Not that they needed it. She opens the door with her staff key and looks in. No one is to be found, but the shower can be heard running in the bathroom. The smile turns into a grin as she struts towards the bed.
"Getting ready so you look your best for me, Gav-ey?" Kirsty quips before hearing a small thud from the bathroom.
"Gav, are you okay?" she asks, concerned.
"Yeah babe, I slipped!"
Kirsty unbuttons her top, her lavish chest bulging out of her push-up bra, she giggles along with him, "My clumsy baby need mommy to come in and help him?"
"Not yet..." Gavin replies.
"Aw," Kirsty sobs, "That's too bad..." She falls onto the bed, her long brown hair flowing behind her and places her hand behind her head.
"Today, I have something special planned, Kirst. Something sweet, something cute."
"You're going to put a bow on it, honey?"
"No," Gavin giggles and pauses, "well, maybe..."
"Ouuu, I can't wait." Kirsty says, her left hand drifting through her hair, her right index finger softly circling around her now exposed belly button.
"What are you wearing?"
"My uniform, part of it at least."
"Well, that's no good."
"Don't worry. It won't be on for long. In fact, it's coming off now."
Kirsty slowly slides off the bottom of her uniform. Her cozy, curvaceous, lightly brown body exposed by her tiny thong. With a quick swipe of her fingers, she is now completely naked, her thong intertwined in her fingers.
"I'm coming in, Gav. No need to be shy. Not like it's the first time." Kirsty notes.
"No," Gavin says softly, his voice barely heard of the shower, "today we do something much sexier."
"How is that possible?"
"Maybe we'll invite your husband in this time..." Gavin jokes, a deceitful grin is surely on his face.
"Ooh. Two heads are better than one. But, I think it'd be a little awkward. You two are so much alike. You look the same, you wear the same cologne, and you even sound the same. It'd be like doing twin brothers. Yuck!”
"Way to kill the mood!"
"You love it," Kirsty notes, her fingers getting ready to explore elsewhere, "he wouldn't know what to do anyways. That's why I have you, you fuck like a porn star."
"So, I'm just a piece of meat to you?" Gavin retorts, jokingly.
"Yes. And a big one at that..." Kirsty adds, holding her hands a foot apart before dwindling the size to five.
Silence ensues for a brief moment, her smile now ceases, and a serious look comes upon her face.
"You know that's not true, baby." Kirsty says.
"Aw, do I? Tell me why it's not true again."
"Well, you're sweet, kind... you care about me." Kirsty empties her heart, "and you make me feel like I am something special."
"That's because you are, sweets."
"And, do you know what really makes me love you?" Kirsty adds, a genuine smile lighting up her face.
"What's that?" Gavin inquires.
"After you've made love to me you caress me, kiss me. You stare into my eyes and read my thoughts. And I fall asleep before you do..." Kirsty trembles, her fingers shaking just thinking of it, "and all the while, you hold my hand, like a schoolyard romance."
"Hand in hand?" Gavin states.
"Hand in hand." She replies.
"Please, don't tell my friends that." Gavin says after a pause, kidding.
"Oh, I won't. And, I won't tell my girlfriends that either."
"By all means, feel free. I won' t mind."
"No, Gav-ey. You're all mine. If only that certain someone would sign my walking papers, we'd be free."
"What's his name again?" Gavin asks.
"Brian."
"I see. But, we didn't come here to talk about him. Stand up, come closer to the wall."
Kirsty grins, getting up and moving closer to the wall. She's fully naked now, her bountiful breasts standing beautifully off of her body. She's muscular and her body has just started to begin to show the natural beauty signs that age brings. She knocks on the wall to show she's near. He taps back. Their naked bodies separated by a mere wooden barricade.
"If only I'd have known you back in high school." Gavin says.
"Oh, a role-play. I like this."
"I'd ask you out in the gym. I'd be really shy about it. Naturally."
"But, you'd have nothing to worry about. I'd blurt out a yes before you even finished your sentence." Kirsty says.
"Then, I'd say that I'd pick you up at seven, like a true gentleman."
"When you got there, would you open the door for me?"
"Mm-hmm."
"And, when our date was over, when you dropped me off, what would you do?"
"I'd get out of the car and open your door. I'd thank you for a great night and I would give you a soft hug to show my appreciation."
Kirsty smiles, her hand now cupping her breast. "Mm, that'd be nice. After I'd hold your hand," she pauses, "and then I'd lean in and kiss you softly."
"I'd smile, shocked at the comfort you show in me."
"Then, I'd inform you that my parents weren't home and that you could come in. I'd hold your hand tightly and begin to walk up."
"I wouldn't have a say in the matter?" Gavin asks, shocked.
"Nope. You're all mine. And, then we'd go in slowly and up to my room. We'd sit down on the bed..."
"And, we'd begin to kiss and touch." Gavin adds.
"Yes," Kirsty shakes her head, her body pressed against the wall, "and, I'd slide off my top and watch you watch me before I slid down my jeans and panties..."
Kirsty begins to tremble and touch herself softly.
"And then I'd hold you in my arms and lay you softly on your bed. I'd take your hand in mine as I lay on top of you, my clothes now gone as well. Can you feel me pressing against you? Gavin asks.
"Yes..." Kirsty says, her body now firmly against the wall. She moans and pants between words, sweat beginning to slide down her face.
"I'd look into your eyes and ask you if you've ever done this before."
"I'd blush and shake my head softly, saying shyly 'it's my first time.' " Kirsty says.
"I would ask if you were ready, and you'd nod. Then, I'd gently slide inside of you. Your hand in mine." Gavin says.
"Hand in hand..." Kirsty responds, now fully pleasuring herself, "I have to come in there now. I need you. I love you, Gavin."
"I love you, too." Gavin replies.
Kirsty keeps her hands on herself, walking to the bathroom door. She tries to open it, but it's locked. She bites her lip, unable to contain herself. She hears the door unlock.
"Close your eyes..." Gavin commands softly.
Kirsty closes her eyes as a hand reaches out of the door. His large, wet hand elegantly envelopes hers.
"Open your eyes, angel." Gavin says impeccably.
Kirsty opens here eyes. They grow wide as her face turns from a look of bliss to a look of terror. The hand holding hers is wet with blood, the other hand tightly grips an axe. She's unable to move, barely able to speak.
"Brian... what..." Kirsty screams, trying to break free of his grip.
Brian moves slightly and grins fiendishly. His movement gives Kirsty plain sight of the bathtub. A cold shower is barely running, the badly mutilated body of Gavin lying in a tub of crimson and ice. His face caved in vertically, eyeballs missing, a ghastly expression on his face. Kirsty cries, trying to regain her composure. Still screaming, she tries to break free from her ex-lover's crushing grip once again, pulling hard and digging her fingernails into his arms.
"Hand in hand... in hell." Brian says sinisterly as he raises the axe and plants it ferociously into the beautiful face of Kirsty. She drops to the floor, her once seraphic eyes devoid of life. With one hand grapping tightly on Kirsty's lifeless limb, the other disappears into his pocket and draws out a razor blade. Without hesitation, he pierces his throat and drags the edge over the jugular vein with one brisk slice before falling onto the floor, his body shrouding hers.