Dungeon

CHAPTER 13 - INSIDE THE LION'S DEN

In the bustling neighborhood of Graciá, a woman was watering the freshly bloomed flowers in her garden when she saw a man in his early thirties opening the door of a house next to hers. "Nunca supe que una nueva inquilina se había mudado." I never knew a new tenant had moved in.

"Hola! Eres nueva aquí?" The man stopped short and was fumbling for the keys, but quickly regained composure and put on a fake smile. "Si soy nuevo aqui." Yes, I'm new here.

The woman caught a good look at the man before her and thought that he was the son of David himself. His youthful eyes bore into hers, an aura of dominance in them. "Are you British?"

The man looked momentarily slumped and turned about to see if the street was crowded, but Graciá was unusually deserted today. He put on the same fake smile and prayed that this questionnaire would get over soon. "Yes, I'm British; how do you know?"

The woman chuckled and gave him a wink. "I caught your accent. I'm American. CNN journalist." She stretched out her hand towards the man, the coy smile still lingering on her lips. Something about the man sparked her curiosity, as if he were a potential news headline hiding a lot of breaking news.

A journalist? His mind was racing quickly, but he knew that he could not afford any more mistakes tonight. He quickly shook her hand and pointed to his door with a look of urgency. "I've got to go real quick. It was quite a busy day. Nature's call, you see."

The woman gave a small chuckle and saw the man brisk off at a huge speed. She turned back to the plants, but her journalist instincts hit in that she couldn't help but follow her gaze towards the house next door. It doesn't hurt to get a small house tour, does it?

The welcome sign on the door held an engraving, but something that piqued her interest was not the sign but the language in which it was written. Աստված ստեղծվել է գիտելիքով "Hmm, this is interesting. God was created with knowledge written in Armenian. A writing in God's language!"

She picked out a small lockpick from her apron and clicked the door open. Lockpicks were like pepper spray for journalists. The room inside looked nothing like a newly moved-in vibe. The fireplace was newly lit, and the hallway was filled with portraits of famous atheists. Ernest Hemingway, Arthur Miller, Adam Carolla...woah! What is this place?

There was a beeping noise coming from a dimly lit room right across the hallway. She pulled the door ajar and walked into what was like a mini-lab. Computers were blinking, printers spewed out papers, and there was a huge barrel of sulfuric acid across a corner of the room. Her eyes slowly averted their gaze towards a softboard hanging on the wall, and her heart leapt when it took in the contents that hung across the board.

There were many portraits of assassinated people whom she identified as famous scientists. "André? Which means this guy killed him??"She instinctively took out her phone and snapped photos of the place until a strong scent of cologne filled the room.

Sweat was beading across her forehead, and her heart was clamoring within, urging her to find an escape route as soon as possible, but her mind eased her senses, filling her in with the fact that her time was coming nearer to an end. A slow whistle filled the room.

"In the shadows, I'll find you, my prey, In the darkness, we'll dance night and day. You can run, but you cannot escape. For your fate, my dear, is sealed by this shape."

Before she could react, strong arms wrapped around her waist and pushed her hard down on the floor. The man sat on top of her and punched her straight across the face. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she gagged desperately for air. The man took a pen knife from his pocket and aimed for her jugular vein, but stopped short.

The woman thought the man had a change of heart and wept aloud. "Pp..please...leave me. I swear I won't say a word to anyone. Please let me go."

The man got up and turned his back to the table, placing the pen knife in the stand. "Creeping through the night, I'm a ghost in your dreams. Your pleas and your cries are silent, it seems. In the cold of the night, where no one will hear, your fate is sealed now, and I'll revel in fear."

The woman got up slowly and started running, but a sharp pang of pain pulled her back to the room. The man pulled her back by her hair and shoved her inside the barrel containing sulfuric acid. "As you tremble, your eyes fill with dread. The scent of your fear fills me with dread. In this twisted waltz, there's no escape. I'm the reaper of souls, and I'll seal your fate."

A searing gush of pain swept through her body as if she were swimming in hot lava. She tried to swim back up, but the maniac had closed the lid of the barrel. Her skin started to peel off, and her hair seemed to disintegrate into the liquid. She fought the urge to breathe in, ignoring the pleas of her lungs to allow air to pass through. Her eyes started losing vision, and slowly she succumbed to her dread. She took a final breath, and her insides felt like a burning volcano, and then there was total darkness.

The man was eating a tuna sandwich and relishing the sight before him. Though he couldn't see what was going on, his mind was sending in waves of pleasure, picturizing them. He noticed that the movements inside the barrel had stopped, and he went near it and opened it to see the product. He chuckled and said, "Moral of the story: Never trespass on another's property!"

He closed the lid and turned to the softboard before him. The smiling portrait of Paulo sent waves of ripples inside him. "Fuck! The old man's got a huge life!" He turned his gaze towards the two sole portraits on the board. "Jessica and Bryan...young to die yet endangered if let to live...hmm...who shall be the first one to descend into the abyss?"

He gave out a big chuckle and finished the last bit of his sandwich. "Okay, let's do this the traditional way." He took a pen and started singing out loud, "Inky Pinky Ponky,Father killed a donkey,Donkey died, father laughed,Inky Pinky Ponky...Jessica!" He took a dart and threw it right across the portrait.

"It looks like the boy will be dealt with later. Hmm, where do I find this heroine now? Aah! The Museu Picasso!" He chuckled, took out his car keys, and walked straight out through the lawn when he saw a boy about four approach him crying.

"Uhm, did you see my mom? She waters plants, but now I don't see her!" The man bent down and picked up the kid in his arms. "You wanna see Mamma?" The boy nodded, and the man couldn't help but smirk at the little being in his arms.

"Your mamma's gone, and you can't reach her." The boy cried and was tugging at his shirt. "I want to see Mamma..." The man heaved a huge sigh and gave the boy a dreamy look. "Well...well...if that's what you want, then so be it!"

He took the kid to his room and opened the barrel. The kid peered into the liquid, gazing at his own reflection. He bent down and cooed, "Mamma?" Just then he felt a small push, and the man was gone.

A huge sear of sharp cries filled the room, and the pleasure was exhilarating. He exhaled the sense of aura and left the room for his car parked outside the house. He got in, set the GPS to the Museu Picasso, and turned on the radio. The radio boomed in with a daily quote from the Bible. Isiah 41:10 says, Do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.

The man roared with laughter like a maniac. "Fools! People cling to their faith in God, thinking it will save them from the abyss. But, in the end, it's all just a desperate illusion. God cannot save anyone. He's nowhere to be found in the dark recesses of the human mind."

Just then, the radio presenter's voice cleared in with a sense of amazement. "saludos gente! Hoy tenemos al Padre Paulo con un mensaje increíble." Greetings people! Today we have Father Paulo with an incredible message.

The man gave a huge scoff and turned up the volume. "The old ass is just alive because his fate is to die with the entire world!"

Paulo's voice came out with a crackle but was filled with a surge of hope. "My dear people! We might not know when the world might come to an end, but be calm and do not lose faith, as God always saves the righteous."

The man bellowed and sped off onto the main road. "Stupid ass! By the time I'm finished, not even God will recognize this world. And there's no prayer, no savior, that can stop what's coming."