Up the Ladder.

Down the Ladder? Hahahaha! Into that Deathpit!?
Not a snowballs chance in hell.

The ladder is thin, weak, several rungs looked like they were just about to fall off, I'd have be careful but no way the beast would be coming up after me. The door shook, and a beastly roar tore out from behind it. I hit the ladder, climbing like a man possessed, hands a feet moving in a blur as I propelled myself up.

A blast of cold air and a sickly stench told me the beast had made it through the door, I looked, only for a second and had my first glimpse of the Monster. It was easily twice the height of a man, with great white horns and matted brown hair, its bottom half resembled a human, but that's as much detail as I could afford, the thing jumped and I was certain it would have my ankle, but no, its long twisted fingernails scraped just short of me. 

In a panic, I resumed my frantic ascent but in my haste one of my hands slipped and I knocked my head on the rung infront of me, but luckily I managed to catch myself before I fell into the waiting arms of the monster.

But eventually, I reached the top of the ladder, and threw open the trap door, pushing myself through the square hole after my dizzy, heavy head. Once I was up I slammed the trapdoor shut, and just lay on the cool stone floor for several minutes. The air was hot like summer, and heavy like a coastal breeze. 

When I pulled myself to my feet after my headache had dulled, and dizziness faded I instantly saw that my trapdoor had disappeared, the only exit was the wooden staircase in the corner, climbing up into the light.

I was immediately assaulted by the strong scent of coffee, and a wave of noise as cars and bikes sped past the small window I was looking out of, people were speaking a language I didn't understand, French I think, or Italian. The big dusty chalk board behind the fat man serving at the counter was covered in scrawly writing the same foreign language, crowned with bold letters spelling out: L'Angolo Bar.

I sit at the bar needing a moment to think about where the hell I am, and what the hell is going on. The Bartender comes and tries to speak to me, but I can't understand him. It takes him a minute, but eventually he comes out with: "English Eh?" in an accent so strong I can hardly understand him.

The End

6 comments about this story Feed