hellbound 3

The Abbey

The building was old, older than any structure deserved to be in this part of the country.  It had weathered hurricanes, blizzards, and everything else God could throw at it, and yet it stood.  Despite its internal strength, the weight of its bones, its outward façade was peeling and faded.  From the outside it looked like nothing more than a derelict old manse, its many-gabled porch sagging under the weight of years, and its paint worn to an indistinct shade of gray.

Even the little things spoke of the age of the house.  The rope-pull on the rust pitted doorbell was frayed and held together by nothing more than the assortment of cob webs that covered it.  The double doors were slightly ajar, the right side hanging by a broken hinge.  All one had to do was apply a little pressure and that ancient door would open wide enough to let me through.  A slight shove, nothing more, and I would be in and out of the weather.  But something makes me hesitate, some age-old and primeval fear of opening a closed door, of walking in on something one was never meant to see.  What was it about the unseen that always sent a shiver, a thrill up my spine?

I can make out the sound of the hound in the tangle of cypress trees and marshy reeds behind me, tracking me by the smell of my fear.  It was only a matter of time before I will feel its sulfur tainted breath on my back.  If I don’t find some sort of cover it would be my ass in the fire.  So, against my better judgment I push open the door as slowly as I can to prevent any kind of noise.  My effort for stealth fails miserably as the ages-old hinges let out a squeal of protest at their jostling.

The noise seems to echo on forever until it is overridden by the sound of the hound tearing through the swamp after me.  If it didn’t have my scent before it certainly knows where I am now.  In a moment I am inside and doing my best to slam to rickety doors shut behind me.  Just as the doors latch clicks home I feel the doors shudder as the hound slams its considerable weight against them again and again.  My last glimmer of hope fades as licking tongues of flame appear under the doorjamb.  The fuckers in the coven sent a hell-hound after me…now how in the hell am I going to get myself out of this mess?