The child fumbled

The child fumbled; panic stricken. His hands clinging to cold crumbling plaster, footsteps placed carefully as to cause no noise. A hiding place was essential, a cupboard or container, anywhere to lose the creature that stalked him. Something inside warned against heading back to those giant double-doors, retracing his steps simply not an option, that was surely where the monster was waiting. Delving further into these macabre surroundings felt like mental torture but what choice did he have. The place had an engulfing presence of evil. Words could barely describe its dark power, a claustrophobic, almost disabling tightness, crushing his soul. Beyond fear. Beyond terror. The worst aspects of the imagination exhausting his frail tiny body. Everything giving the resident evil the advantages over its victim. The darkness was all consuming giving it the feel of a separate entity, a cold clinging substance, unblinking, unforgiving, another tool in the building’s evil arsenal. So, extreme, the child could barely see his hands before his face. It was the closest feeling to blindness imaginable.

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