Teeth Of God

Teeth of God

Summary: When a traveling interactive haunted house pops up near your hometown, your best friend Alex knows this will be the perfect way to get you into the Halloween spirit. Unfortunately for you, she left out a few key details. Word Count: 1.6k Disclaimer: This is not about the men behind the masks. I’m basing this solely off of their on-stage personas.

As the door behind you snaps shut, a whirlwind of emotions gets kicked up like a thick layer of dust. The dread you thought was gone only lay dormant until this very moment. With a deep inhale, your senses are flooded with notes of sandalwood and amber, vastly different from the smell of pine and damp moss you’ve grown accustomed to while waiting in line. The silence in this moment is deafening, and you can hear your pounding heartbeat in your ears as the situation starts to truly settle in. Taking a few moments to center yourself, you reach down to brush your fingers over the leaves of the flower Ivy had gifted you. The veins on the underside of it giving you something to focus on as you start to look around.

Standing in a small corridor, it seems the dust wasn’t just inside your mind. A layer of cobwebs and soot blankets almost every surface, along with the soft, warm glow of candelabras. Next to you sits a marble side table, atop it there is a rosary, some half-melted 7-day candles, and a ritual dagger. You feel the urge to take it with you, but decide that a lawsuit would most likely come from that, so your eyes drift to the walls lining the hall instead. Taking a step forward, you are greeted with the creaking of floorboards, making your blood run cold. Any thought of getting through this unnoticed going out the window.

Seemingly awaiting your first move, faint ritualistic chanting and discordant hymns start coming from the room down the hall. Steeling yourself for however long this experience will last, you continue forward, fists and jaw clamped shut. The walls are lined with mirrors, some uncovered, and some with black cloth draped over them. Taking a closer look, you notice crimson markings adorn some of the uncovered glass. Strange symbols you’ve never seen, written in what you can only assume is blood, staring at you as well as your own reflection. Flickering lights dance with the dark corners of the hall, which start to play games on your eyes the longer you stare into the mirror.

The door at the end of the hall you’ve now made your way halfway across creaks loudly, causing you to gasp and jerk your head towards the noise. The entryway that was once shut and enveloped in darkness now lies ajar. More candlelight pours from the opening, and the melodies you’ve heard before become louder, beckoning you to come closer. One more look around the corridor provides you with nothing but isolation. You’re in this place, in the woods, alone. Turning your body towards the next room, you take a deep breath and continue on.

Within a few steps, you’re standing in front of the doorway leading further into the manor. You could just call it quits now and walk right back out, but the hypnotising tunes coming from deeper within piques your curiosity. Leaning an ear towards the opening, muffled chants can be heard alongside the old piano you were hearing in line. Distorted words of worship are sung over clashing notes that remind you of a rusted swingset amidst a storm. Fear radiates from your body, leaving the hairs on the back of your neck at a standstill and your pupils blown wide.

Wiping your clammy palms on your pants, you reach to push the door fully open. The room before you could only be described as otherworldly, with high ceilings drenched in darkness due to candlelight that can only reach so far up. Rows of crumbling pews are lined on either side of the room, leading up to a glowing altar space. More candles adorn the room, and the scent of incense suddenly becomes suffocating. Stepping into the sanctuary, you take in the large stained glass windows, moonlight emanating from their panels that gives a ghostly glow to anything in its path. The warmth from the candles acting as a warm hug in the decrepit chapel you stand in.

Before you can find any more comfort, the door behind you slams shut, causing the flames from nearby candles to flicker and go out. Adrenaline rushes through your system as you whip around to find the culprit, only to find an empty space occupied by shadows. Floorboards creak, and suddenly you know you aren’t alone. Paralyzed, your eyes dart around to find who else is in the room with you, but no one can be seen. It takes a moment for you to come back into your body, but when you do, you’re speed walking through the large room and in between the two columns of pews.

Quite frankly, you’ve seen enough and are ready to progress. That is, until a shrill giggle pierces your ears. It seems that once again, your body betrays you and you stop, standing amongst religious relics and something, or rather someone. Garbled noises come from a direction you can’t quite put your finger on, but you look around for it anyway. Your desperation is only met with another inhuman laugh, and movement out of the corner of your eye. Quickly turning your head to follow the figure, it’s gone again. This time, instead of getting out of there, an indescribable feeling washes over you. The feeling of someone staring right into the back of your skull, or maybe it’s to your side. Similar to the voice, the gaze cast upon you seems to be coming from every direction at once.

Whoever is in the room with you has a way of being omnipresent. Long gone are the sounds of piano and chants, the only thing on your mind in this moment is the need to survive. After a moment of silence, a whimper involuntarily makes its way out of you, your body still refusing to cooperate. “Aww, don’t be so scared love, I won’t hurt you.” Despite what he’s saying, no comfort is brought to you. There’s something so off about his voice. Yes, it’s english and the words are correct, but the tone and way it’s being said makes your stomach churn. As you stand there, hyperventilating, the figure once again is caught in your periphery. This time, you don’t try and follow it, which was apparently the wrong move. 

You’re acutely aware of your surroundings, and how the staring you felt before has only seemed to intensify. This, along with the presence you feel behind you and your already dazed mind, making you an easy target for the other person in the room. The fact that you haven’t seen them yet either only heightens these feelings of disorientation. Too caught up in your thoughts, you fail to notice the person behind you leaning in, only alerted of their presence by a waft of warm air hitting the back of your right ear, “You will listen to what I have to say and obey, do not turn around.” Practically jumping out of your skin at this invasion of your space, you quickly force yourself to stay still, completely ignoring the instinct to face the man behind you.

Another chuckle can be heard as you gulp and shift your weight from side to side, every muscle in your body begging you to move. Breathing deeply through your nose and out your mouth, you continue staring forward at the altar as the man behind you moves away. Seconds pass before he speaks again, this time deeper, the shrill giggles replaced with hushed growls. “Close your eyes,” his tone is demanding and you immediately shut your eyes, not wanting to get into any more shit than you already were. With your eyes shut, you could only assume the man was moving around due to the floorboards creaking and giving away his location. 

You feel a tug and your pocket, and your mind jumps to the worst. You and Alex were lured out here by some psychos with a fake ad, and they could now do whatever they wanted. Thankfully, before you could spiral any further, the man speaks up, “Such a pretty gift, I see you’ve met the groundskeeper.” You could hear that he was smirking while speaking, obviously enjoying your fear and compliance. Now aware that he was only inquiring about the flower in your pocket, you sigh, though your heartbeat continues to race in your chest. “Y-yeah, Ivy gave it to me. I don’t know why, but please don’t take it away.” It seems that your begging was enough for the man, as he steps away from you with a hum.

You don’t know how long you’ve been standing there, eyes closed in the middle of pews, but after a couple of minutes that felt like hours, you hesitantly open up your eyes. When you don’t get reprimanded for doing so, you assume you’re in the clear to continue. In the moments of standing between pews, you managed to calm down some, which you’re thankful for. Looking forward, you’re greeted with a beautiful altar table decorated in jewels, scripture, and taper candles. Stepping up to it, you notice most of the papers have either been burnt or have the same symbols you saw in the corridor scribbled over the text. You take a mental note of it for research when you get home, but for right now, you walk around the altar to try and find the exit.

Thankfully for you, there’s a door behind the space, stepping down from the stand, you set a hand on a metal doorknob. It’s cold to the touch, and you have a feeling things will only get worse from here, so you take your time leaving. Looking around, you admire the stained glass, flickering candles, and the piano notes. With a deep breath, you push the door open and are met with a stone stairwell leading down to the next section.