Chapter 7: The Mansion Part III



Hearing the voices grow louder and angrier, he turned his eyes straight to the ends of the hallway; first to the one at his left and then to the one at the right. But he saw nothing but the same white and grey wallpaper and navy blue carpet.

Still the voices grew, as did the footsteps, sounding closer and closer until he could almost feel them echoing in his head and shaking him to the core. 

Feeling his damaged hands trembling on the cold metal, he tried the first three doors with no luck. Next to them, however, was a fourth door he hadn't noticed before. 

There was a split-second of hesitation from the boy as he simply stood there, staring at the fourth door painted in messy strokes of white instead of the glossy black colouring its neighbours; a door that wasn't supposed to be there. Afterwards, though, as if remembering his predicament, he jumped forward and twisted the door's knob. 

Finally, at this last door there was a 'click'.

The boy immediately pushed it open with his weight, flinging his body onto the floor inside before shutting the door with his feet. 

Eyes flying to a silver key in the lock, he lifted himself up and turned it to the right with a loud and liberating 'click', effectively closing the door shut just as something suddenly rammed into the door. 

With a jolt, followed by a sharp scream, the boy fell to the floor once more and scrambled backwards into the room as far away from the door as he could.

Wide eyes watched as the wooden panels shook with the force of what the child could only assume were fists pounding at the door. 

The silver key fell to the wooden planks below with a long high-pitched clatter, but, other than that, and the constant battering on the door, the boy heard no sounds. The voices must have been muffled by the door and walls, because he couldn't hear any. 

All of a sudden, the banging stopped. With his heart still racing but undeniably curious, the child crawled to the door, stopping and cringing at every creaking sound the wood made under his weight. With slow movements, he licked his dry lips and gently pressed his ear against the door's cold hard wood. 

Although distant, he recognised the sound of footsteps moving away from the door, sounding farther and farther away until, eventually, he could no longer hear them. 

Pulling his ear away, the child turned around, closed his eyes and sagged against the door, breathing a very long and deep sigh of relief. 

 

The End

12 comments about this story Feed