The pulsing seeped back into his awareness, stronger this time, trying to overcome him, and he recognized it for what it was. Laughter, ancient and dark, rhythmic in its rasping drone. The warrior shuddered, tried the doors again, but with no more success than before.
"Sir..."
The voice came again, louder and more urgent. He looked around, trying once more to trace its source. A threatening staircase, old and leaning, boards rotten and twisted loomed before him, disappearing into the darkness of upper levels. A lone flickering torch cast its fitful light through the room, deepening shadows and illuminating a crimson carpet -- clear of dust -- draped along the stairs as if to cover their disrepair. How the torch was lit, the warrior hardly dared wonder; there had been no footprints besides his own on the approaching path.
He took a step towards the stairs, and the floor squeaked. It turned into a wail as his weight shifted, and he cringed, trying to cover his ears through his helmet. Only when he stepped back did the screeching calm, but then he heard the voice yet again.
"Please, Sir… Help me…"
This time he managed to trace its source to a twisted door to his right, hanging slightly open on rusty hinges. He stepped towards it, but that step screeched too, volume only increasing as he leapt from one floorboard to the next. The squeals rose behind him in a haunted chorus, never-ending now that he was away from the entrance. By the time he flung open the door to the next room, he was sprinting, booted feet pounding across the floor in rhythm with the screams. As soon as he was clear, he slammed the door behind him, and leaned against it, panting. But the voice came again, drawing him onward like a moth to lantern.
"Sir…"
29-Jan-2012 07:01:11
- Last edited on
30-Jan-2012 20:46:05
by
Cozmic