Hey everyone! Just posting the prologue from my new book, Ell (name subject to change)!

First off, you’ll probably notice similarities between this and one of my previous entries. Rest assured that they are unrelated and follow two entirely separate storylines (Also, in this piece, the protagonist is only dreaming, whereas in my other story bit, it was actually happening in real life).

Also, apologies for the shortness of this post,  I didn’t have time to finish Chapter 1 as well. Don’t worry, I have  the whole story mapped out, so if I die before I finish it, someone else can do it for me!

So, without further ado, ELL!!!

*Edit: Updated to Prologue 2.0! 😀

Prologue

The White Room was seven feet square, devoid of furnishings, a mere box of a room.

It had been part of a wine cellar many decades ago, part of the original house, and had remained intact through the various renovations the old building had undergone. Painted an off-white color by the house’s previous occupants, the room hadn’t held wine in over thirty years. Stripped of its oaken wine racks, the room had been repurposed as something far more sinister.

A torture cell.

The room’s only illumination came from a naked bulb, swinging gently on its seven-inch cord. She tried to ignore it, squeezing her eyes shut, but the light was unrelenting, glowing crimson through her eyelids. The thick concrete walls deadened outside sound, leaving the room in relative silence. The only noises were the low hum of the burning filament, and the soft sobbing of the room’s sole occupant.

The girl was half-dead from hunger and thirst, crumpled in a corner as far from the light as she could get. Her black hair hung in sweat-soaked strands, clinging to her pale face. It had been at least two days. Two days in the room where time had no meaning, where it was always harsh, searing daylight. Earlier, she had considered smashing the bulb, ending the torment forever, but she had long ago lost the strength to move. Her arms hung loosely at her sides, raw and running crimson from numerous cuts. In the end, it didn’t matter. Without the light, the blackness would come. And the blackness was worse. Much, much worse, she was sure of it.

Besides, Daddy was coming. He would rescue her from this place, and take her to her favorite restaurant, and buy her a milkshake like he always did, and everything would be all right. She just had to wait… and wait…

So she gritted her teeth and bore on.

The memories of her arrival remained lost in the swirling cacophony of heat and pain. She remembered being dragged down a steep flight of stairs, the wooden planks slamming against her heels. A rough voice in her ear, rasping filthy words through broken teeth, blood and saliva flecking her cheek. Then came the concrete floor, rough and uneven. She had broken free then, swinging with every ounce of her strength, cracking his jawbone. The floor had rushed up to knock the wind from her, only to recede again as she was yanked back up amid a barrage of curses.

He had dragged her the rest of the way by her hair.

The White Room was becoming unbearably hot, a seven-by-seven box of hell with one little girl packaged up inside it. She tried to breathe, coughed out the air, forced her lungs to draw it in, to take the oxygen even as it burned her. Had it lasted months? Years? Time didn’t matter any more. Everything was pain. The heat, the cuts and bruises, the horrible stretching in her mind as rational thought slowly, slowly gave way…

The door was open. She had forgotten there was a door at all. It blended perfectly with the walls, the same stark white, the same maddening chalk tone as the rest of the room. And it was hanging open, a crack in the unbreakable hurt that was White Room.

A breath of cool, damp air swirled lazily through the haze, sending goosebumps up and down her arms. Slowly, very slowly, she dragged herself to her feet, wobbling a bit as she stood. The darkness seemed to call to her, a reprieve from the searing light. A way out, a way back…

A way back to Daddy.

Then she was outside, in the blackness, and with the darkness came fear, an absolute terror. The sudden chill, the deadly stillness, the feeling that something, or perhaps a multitude of somethings, were watching her, smiling, grinning with razor teeth as they drew nearer…

She fell backwards, but the White Room was gone. All that remained was the pitch blackness, and the Things. The Things creeping around her, their long fingers brushing past her face, skittering across her ankles like enormous insects. And she could hear them, too. Whispering, whistling softly, rustling in the dark. They spoke words too soft for her to catch, chuckling quietly, growing ever closer.

There was a metal cigarette lighter in her hand. She didn’t know how long she had been holding it, and it didn’t matter. She had to see, she had to have light, however small. The thought of what she might see made her hand shake, and she almost dropped the lighter, but in the end, the darkness scared her more.

The gear turned once in a spray of sparks, but the wick didn’t catch. The whispers rose in alarm, and she panicked, clicking the igniter over and over until, finally, it caught. A tiny flame flickered into existence, and she held it up before her, desperate to see…

A mutilated face grinned at her, inches away.

She couldn’t move, couldn’t cry out. The thing remained still as well, and for a brief second she hoped beyond hope that it stay where it was, silent and menacing, for eternity…

Then it screamed, its cheeks ripping apart as its mouth opened impossibly wide, and it swallowed her whole.

Please rate and critique! Thank youuuuuuu!