1931: Upward


I climbed the stairs.

Behind me, the sounds of a massacre faded. The demigods, unnamed and unknown, worked their way through those rooms I had not opened. I could feel the fear in the air, a sensation both unpleasant and fraught with danger.

I enjoyed it immensely.

At the top of the stairs, I found a large tin sign bolding, proclaiming the floor to be ‘Observation and Exploration.’

The stale, bitter scent of antiseptics eased out around a thin door and told me what I could expect beyond its slim boundary.

The doorknob was cold in my hand, but it opened easily enough, and I entered a large room dominated by dissection tables and various other pieces of scientific equipment for which I had no names nor any idea as to what they were for.

Only one person occupied the room, standing beside a small table upon which lay a collection of half-human bodies. He, like so many others in this place, paid me no mind as he went about his business. I watched as he peeled back skin and pierced muscle down to the bone.

At one point, he leaned forward, sniffed one miniature body, and then sliced off a bit of muscle near the rectum. He held it up, turned it from left to right, and then shrugged before he popped it off into his mouth.

The man hummed as he chewed, and I repressed a sudden desire to vomit.

I stepped toward him, and the man did not notice until I stood on the other side of the table from him, partially blocking some light.

He looked up with a frown and asked, “And who might you be, sir?”

My fists answered his question.

The first blow shattered his nose and caused him to drop the scalpel he had been using on the abominations in the tray in front of him. The second and third blows collapsed his orbital bones and dropped him to the floor. My boots shattered his knees, and I cracked his sternum as I crashed knees-first onto his chest.

The air rushed from his mouth, blood bubbled in his nostrils, and I grabbed him by his hair.

Without so much as a word to him, I slammed his head into the tiled floor until it had shattered and his brains were splattered around him.

I wish I could have hurt him more.

#paranormal #mystery

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Nicholas Efstathiou

Husband, father, and writer.

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