The house had no smell.
The carpet felt like brick,
cold, rough, and wet.

A door stood before me,
its sick hand prints of blood, and
its frightened claw marks
made by nails,
one til broken and sticking in the door,
strangely did not make me sick.

The door to hell and horror did
not frighten me,
not anymore than the sound of another door opening
far away.
(Maybe one to a better place?)

What made me sick
was the sight that the door had
been hiding behind it's cruel face.

A single chain came from the ceiling,
that just seemed to go on forever.
Connected to the chain were hooks,
and to the hooks,
a person.
Forest green eyes stricken wide with terror.
(One of the Damned)

I looked around,
there was blackness,
and nothing more.

I brought my attention to the
person,
only to discover the hooks were
rusty, and...empty.

Had there ever been a person?

Suddenly fear and an aching rushing into my heart,
behind me was more than darkness.

There was a dark glove on my shoulder.
It was then that I ran.
Children-like cries echoed off the brick as I ran,
up stairs,
through halls,
I could not escape the screams,
or the sound of a heavy
creature stomping after me,
like Satan was running after an escaped soul.

I finally reached the outside,
(outside of hell)
where I ran behind a tree
I was safe.
(Safe in heaven.)

I heard a rustling in the tree,
I felt a pain in my heart and turned around,
Behind me eyes glistened even more
than the blood on the wall,
more than my blood.
(This is my heaven,)

A glove took hold of my shoulder
(or my own personal hell?)
and then we started back to the house.

Soon it was I who screamed.