Don't Open the Door

There was only one rule: don't open the door. Once boarded up and left isolated through the years. As the boards gave way to age and fell away the one rule became unheeded.

The window showed nothing within between the crack of the last two surviving boards. Her footsteps were scarcely echoed in the silence. The darkness quickly became all consuming; thick and blinding. She was the only one there, yet she was not alone.

"Help me!"

"Get me out of here!”

The darkness turned biting cold and her skin crawled. A breath of icy chill crept along her right ear. An all too clear snicker.

"Get out."

Her throat closed up and she spun on a heel. Her legs were nothing more than leaden weights and every stride forward could not move her. She screamed, the sound heart-stopping, desperate, and stagnate in the darkness. Crimson splattered against the glass and the ensuing thud knocked the last two boards away. Her face flattened against the window, a hole where her nose once was, her eyelids torn from place, and the corners of her lips torn apart and lifted into a truly cruel, frightening, and wide grin that poured thick rivers of maroon down the window and wooden pane. Her eyes narrowed.

"Open the door Kai."

With the twisted grin in place her tone became darker as she spoke to the child she left behind until it was nothing short of demonic.

"Open the door Ka! OPEN THE DOOR KAI!!"

Her tone caused the window to tremble and shake as she pressed her mutilated face against it. The boy stumbled back in horror before he forced himself to his feet, fleeing fast while the voice bellowed behind him.