First Place Winner
March's Thriller and Horror Writing Contest
Stygian Cage by Clare Sutton
On a sunny day, with clouds in the sky—a rare sight in the early spring—I found myself dragged to an ancient manor that loomed over me and my friends. When I first stepped through the rusted gates, a feeling burrowed its way into my gut, festering until it spread to every inch of my body. The weight; the feeling, it was a stranger to me, but heavy in its hold. It was something that crawled into my skin and pierced through my bones. It leeched the comfort of safety from me and instilled the great need to move away. To run. To hide. And yet, I still moved forwards.
I fell to the shadows hold. My companions pulled me deeper. At my friends' sides, I began to believe the feeling was my new adversary, a feeling made from superstition that I was to overcome. How I wish I were right. How I wish that I had realized the feeling was not, in fact, a new obstacle in my path. But I did not, instead stepping into the Stygian halls with stuttering grace and morbid curiosity that stared at the items aged with time: the torn curtains; the fallen depictions of greedy men and cold eyed women; the dark and shadowed rooms; the dusty antiques with dangerous gleams. Time stammered forwards, and the treasures of the matured manor drew me even further, away from the light until the sun's rays were nothing but a forgotten memory, fogged over by the ancient stone and plaster. And with the sun's disappearance, and the darkness's hold weighing heavier than ever, I had not realized the halls that had once been filled with obnoxious laughter and loud chatter had fallen silent. Not until I stumbled into the marbled ballroom, turned to my friends with a laugh on my lips, and saw that no one stood behind me. I took in the deafening silence as I peered around myself in hopes of finding the friends I had once accompanied. Nothing and no one appeared, so I turned back and tried to find my way back through the maze of hallways and doors I had fallen down. It was futile. Each twist and turn brought me somewhere new, somewhere unknown, and the silence creeped on. That is, until piercing screams were heard and, with them, I had taken off in a stumbling run. The halls still wound themselves in endless loops that would have made me lose my way, had the shrill screams not acted as a guide. With the wails ushering me forwards, I inched closer with every door I passed. I ran with hope. I moved with fear. It was only when the screams turned into softer cries that I finally stood in front of the room that held the voice. When I reached forwards, hand held over the frigid doorknob, a shiver ran up my spine. It stopped me short. I pulled my hand back, hesitating more than I ever had as the suffocating feeling that had clung to me since I had first stepped through the looming gate of this manor strengthened and threatened to slam me to the ground in its forcefulness. The anguished sob that tore through the doors hardwood and my heart vanquished that hesitation in one foul swoop and I yanked the door open just as quickly. The shadows had greeted me once more. Hanging from every corner, distorting to fit into even the smallest crevices. But no human laid. No crying was heard. The small puffs of my breath were the only sounds to be made out, escaping every few moments, before only the silence was what remained. As I stood, the shadows enveloping everything around me, I truly realized, with dread, that I never should have come. I should have known the feeling that had sprung from the air and desperately tried to pull me away was not a foe to defeat but a warning born from hidden instincts, ones buried deep within the false safety I had wrapped around myself. Now, as I stare at the looming shadows that reach out with sharp claws and teeth that drip with an oozing red, I realize I should’ve listened to the demanding desperation from within. |