fuonlyknew

IT SLEEPS AT DAWN

She gripped her nerves tight, pushed back the fear, and stepped up to the door that she hoped led out of the long hallway and into freedom. The door was made of solid oak, black from top to bottom and side to side, with a gold door knob in the shape of a demon with two emerald green eyes. Bright red pentagrams were embedded into its wood. These pentagrams were so red they seemed to be filled with blood, ready to bleed at any moment, almost pulsing from their plumpness. She reached down for the handle, deep breaths filled with dread ran through her lungs, as her heart drummed a loud terror beat inside her chest. She turned the handle and opened the door, which was so heavy that it took two hands and a healthy dose of sweat to move.

Her heart sank once the door was wide open because there he stood, the man who had brought her here the night before. Her cloudy memory had finally opened up, spilling forth the information. It was the bar where they had met, the bar where he had laid on his charms, the bar where he had asked her to go home with him, the bar was the last memory she had before waking up in this mysterious place. And she was sure of another thing, he wasn’t the same man who had picked her up. That dashing handsome young man with the long black hair and dusty blue eyes, who stood at least six foot five, and was easily a foot taller than her was now nowhere to be seen. Instead of the young man dressed in modern clothes, here stood an ancient older man in dated black three piece suit with a cape tied around his neck. The cape fell to somewhere near the middle of his back. It was black to match the suit, but the interior of it was as red as the pentagrams on the door. His cologne wafted through the air as he stood there, an ancient smell of High Karate.