I strike the match and light the candle.

"Follow me," he says, his voice like the breeze on a summer night.

No! Turn back! shouts a voice in my head. But I love him. So I follow.

The dark, damp passageways seem endless. I ask him if he is sure of the way. He says he is, but he doesn't look back. I fight claustrophobia all the way to the black, warped wood of a door. I don't see the chains, don't hear the grate of key in lock. I am blinded and deafened by trust and love. He reaches out his hand to me, pulls me inside. His face is only inches from mine. He leans closer and I close my eyes. Suddenly he is gone. My eyes fly open to see the door scraping across the ground. I throw myself at the door, but he doesn't notice. I hear the key turn. The black wood resists my nails raking across it. I scream at him, but all I hear is laughing. Not the soft, beautiful laugh I have heard a thousand times before, but a cold laugh. I turn, my eyes wide.

The scream that comes from my mouth is more petrified than can be said with words.

I am locked in a room full of corpses.

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Author guidance for This story

This was basically inspired by a film we watched in History, about how plague victims were locked in their houses, and even when someone died they were still locked in with the dead people until everyone was dead.

I have a morbid imagination.

Characters

~Elizabeth
~Joan

updated Feb 7 '10 by SapphireSoul