The Thing that Should Not Be.
Tension begins to rise with an insistent crescendo; My discomfort is increasing at every turn.
A ‘beast’ calls out, to be pacified; At least i think it might be a beast. I know that It makes strange sounds from behind the door and the handle rattles most urgently.
It is a natural habit for me to slip the tray of ‘food’ quickly through, and with that, the unbearable pressure ebbs away.
This does not make me happy though. I sense my actions only make the ‘thing’ stronger.
I dream that one day I will have the strength to let the pressure rise; I will not act, but just wait and see what happens.
Perhaps the thing will be so enraged, it will burst through the door to confront me. At least then, I will get a look at it; A chance to gauge what i’m up against.
Then again, if i stop it’s nourishment, it might just slink into the corner, hiding away to wither and die.
Even with this, I will need to enter that cursed room. I have to look upon it just to make sure.
