The Red Door - Chapter 1

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The Red Door

by LoneWandererD

Libraries: One Shots, Original Fiction

Published on / 1 Chapter(s) / 0 Review(s)

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A short story I did for class...

 

THE RED DOOR

Had she known the outcome then maybe she wouldn’t have done it. Maybe she would have turned back, or maybe not, but as soon as Mary touched the Red Door she was doomed.

Mary pressed her fingers softly against the polished wood, cool and smooth to the touch, and the Red Door swung open. It moved silently on its hinges, he had always hated squeaking hinges and so he always kept his door well oiled. A pity that this one small pet peeve would mean his death.

The room beyond was dark, illuminated only by the dying embers in the fireplace bathing the room in a nightmarish red glow, sending grotesque shadows dancing across the floor and walls. The room matched Mary’s own mood as she scanned the gloom. He was here, she could feel him.

Slowly her eyes adjusted to the darkness and she spotted him. A figure lay upon the bed opposite her, back turned to the door and sleeping peacefully. Mary felt her hatred rise. Gliding across the room Mary silently drew the stiletto from her belt. He was so close now, she could touch him, and she could hear him breathing; small content sighs that made Mary’s blood boil.

She considered rolling him over, she wanted to see his face as she took his life. She wanted to have the horror she felt at his hands mirrored in his dying eyes, but then he began to stir. Mary struck hard and true, clasping a hand to his mouth to stifle his cries.

Her stiletto was sharp, very sharp. It punched through his back as though it were made of paper, Mary’s impeccable aim guiding the point through his ribs and into his heart. He shuddered and his last breath rattled through Mary’s fingers. One thrust and it was done.

Mary withdrew her blade as the body went limp; but that was not enough. She rolled him over, she had to see his face, that face she hated so. But no, Mary’s heart stopped. The face that looked back at her with dead eyes was strange and unfamiliar, and female. This was not his face; this was not the man she hated.

Mary stood frozen, suddenly afraid when from the darkness behind her she heard a small chuckle.

“Marianne, my dear sister, you finally made it”

Mary spun around just as the Red Door closed shut...

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