I can hear the footsteps outside of my door. Scratching, gnawing away at the doorknobs, something is trying to get in. something unearthly, something that is not from this world—a creature born out of ancient hatred.
The hall was much warmer than outside, where a veil of fog proudly coveted the lowest temperature I had ever seen. I was very comfy, you know, sitting in those expensive custom chairs, covers made out of the richest leather this planet has to offer. And it got me to thinking, how does a nonprofitable asylum for the mentally insane like this one get such funding where the office rooms are literally comparable to any five-star hotels. Something doesn't add up with all of this, does it?
My bladder was full halfway through the ball. Looked like all the staff had brought in only soups and stews of every kind. Fitting for such cold weather. And the espressos, too, did no justice. On the very brink of peeing down my pants, I rushed towards the loo.
The lights started to flicker. I was almost done with washing my hands when they went off completely. As the emergency lights turned on, its reddish glow turned the atmosphere into a David Fincher'sFincher's psychological thriller movie set.
I couldn't remember seeing the neon sign I was staring at prior to that moment ever. For the millionth time I had used that staircase, that sign of an arrow pointing downwards had never been in my memories. It must have been newly installed as part of the latest renovation, I thought. And like all those idiots from horror movies who, despite clearly knowing that the monster or the poltergeist haunting the house is right behind the door, they chose to open it, I too followed the sign.
Moments later, I found myself in a long corridor, which in both directions seemed infinitely long. That was in no way a part of the establishment where I had been working for two years, nearing three. Locked reinforced steel doors a few meters apart on both sides, the architecture matched the place's general theme, yet I had no recollection of this portion. Memorizing every inch of the floor plan was not on my job description, but I did it anyway. As a fan of H.P Lovecraft, I loved spooky places. Hence there I was, applying for the job of a security guard of a mental asylum.
Far on the horizon, one of the doors had burst opened. By then, I had walked past a few dozen at the very least, when the sound of the door banging on the wall caught me off guard. A small scream of sorts, which I tried resisting every bit in my power, got out. Then I saw something come out of there. The reddish glow of the hidden emergency lights made it hardly visible, but when it moved, I wasted no time in sprinting. I swear even Usain bolt would have been jealous of my speed, yet the horse like footstep chasing me was only getting closer. Climbing up the stairs and while running past the loo, I screamed as loud as possible to warn the others of the thing chasing me. While entering the hall, I couldn't find a single breathing soul except the one breathing on my shoulders. Oh well, I could care less of the living. In a breathless chant, I started praying to god to get me out of this place while keeping my pace. There it was. I saw the dimming light shrouded with fog seeping in through the main gate. A few more steps and I'm free. And then, I felt it on my left hand, the sharp bite and teeth setting in. But I was never the one to give up, and so, I shook my hand; the pain of my muscles tearing out was unlike anything I have ever felt, yet I ran.
As the wall of fog swallowed me in, I heard its hoof-like feet stopping. It wasn't chasing me anymore. So, I, too, stopped to look back. And the glory of the beast was revealed. While my exasperated breathlessness took me on the verge of death, just before losing my consciousness, I saw it. And I knew what that thing was.
They called it Moder. An antler with the face of a human can mimic anything that lives and breathes. An ancient god, the fandom wiki, had it listed as. The bastard son of Loki it was supposed to be. Another trickster, who lived off of the prayer and an occasional sacrifice of its followers. My thirst for Norse mythology was insatiable once, and that curiosity had led me to learn all about the creature. Now that I know what it is, I understand every part of the tale.
The once occasional gnawing on the door, which goes away after a while, hasn't stopped for a moment. I sometimes hear my dead sister calling by my name. While gasping for air, she asks me to open the reinforced steel door. Yet, I know all of it is an illusion.
I found myself in this tiny cell after I woke that day, all bandaged and wearing some form of a uniform. My guess is I'm behind one of those doors I saw that day on that corridor. Can't tell the time as this room has no windows, but the growth of my body hair gives some indication. I had a thick and long beard once, about a years' worth of growth before joining in the asylum, and now I can feel it to be similar.
I am writing this in hopes that somebody might read it one day. I have to make it short, as the walls have no space left. But remember this, if you are reading it, you are next in line. But I have something to give.
Right beside the door, there is a loose brick, and behind it is a nail with a flat end. Don't worry, it's still there. No one ever really comes here, except that deaf lady. My observation tells me that she can't read. With one hand, I couldn't pick the lock. See if you can. And if you do, and you are free, go to wellington. At the address below, you'll find my mum. If she is still alive, tell her that I love her and I didn't abandon her. Tell her that I'm no coward, tell her what had happened and that her son is no quitter. As because, if I die here, I intend to go down swinging. And for you, whoever is reading this, should you are free, burn it all. Burn it to your heart's contempt.
eh?
No burning anything. Except the fear. You can burn the fear.
well, from now on i will try to remember that dada:)
Someone once told me that fear is what keeps a man alive and i have learned that its only partially true. Aomame wouldnt like me if im an afraid coward now would she:3
First of, where the hell have you been?
Secondly Zayed, things like this..
...should be written in the first paragraph and not after we've read the whole thing.. 😂
Good thing it's all fiction though..
Let me apologize for replying this late prayzz. i have been heavily occupied with some intricate personal issue mate. worked through most of it but some yet remain. Rest assured mate, until the very last day this platform is alive, ill come back no matter what:)
Well, trying to learn how to implement the good old fourth wall breaking in stories:3 i guess it worked eh!:V
I understand perfectly well Zayed.. You've been missed though, I hope you come back full time sooner than expected.
And happy new year. 😁
its good to know that somebody misses this miserable sob.:P happy new year champ.:)
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