Where We Went
I had always been a believer of some higher truth, just outside this world we live in, that occasionally peaks through. I had felt it in music—or drugs. But to define it—I could not. My mistake was to believe that truth must be good.
Enter Sadie. She oozed understanding. She knew how to escape from the bars we lived behind, and all I had to do was go with her. Terms and conditions were never discussed.
Sadie knew the janitor because, according to her, she would occasionally buy weed from him. This afforded her access to our high school during off-hours. Sadie lived nearby, and by senior year, she knew the place by heart. I went to a different school for three years until being transferred for disciplinary reasons. Dad thought private school might help. I had been acting out—but South Florida was a hellhole that I couldn’t wait to be rid of.
We reconnected because we had been middle school classmates. For Valentine’s Day in eighth grade she made me a heart-shaped photo collage. I didn't get her anything. I didn’t notice her in that way.
Three years is a long time to spend apart and then be drawn back together, fully hormonal, and not buying the bullshit we were being fed. Sadie had a new group of friends that didn't like me much. I would smoke cigarettes in the courtyard between classes, and Sadie would come sit with me, forcing the lackeys to follow. There was a simmering tension, and for once, I was the cool guy.
At night, we would sneak around, making out and chasing shadows with the key the janitor gave her. Our graffiti would be subtle, and we imagined the penises and curse words we scribbled in textbooks to be enjoyed by generations to come.
It was just past midnight on a Saturday night when Sadie, exhaling smoke from a joint, asked me if I knew about the real history of this school, before the fire. We were listening to The Talking Heads on a cd player. We didn’t have speakers, so we turned the volume all the way up and put the headphones on the ground between us. The song was Psycho Killer.
Sadie was the most beautiful at night. There was something about her red curly hair and the way shadows cast over her skin. Her blue eyes seemed to sparkle, and her red lips always cut through predatory. I could taste her on the joint as I inhaled and savored it. Something had changed in her since middle school, and my indifference had transformed into intoxication. Although, I felt like I was playing it pretty cool.
"Kids have died here," said Dave, and I was reminded that Sadie and I weren't alone tonight. Dave was one of Sadie's new friends and had been tagging along with us more and more lately. He had short, spiky, black hair and wore black lipstick. His ears were pierced about five times on each side, as was his tongue. He shuffled in closer to us, Sadie on one side and me on the other. We were sitting in the dark of the school’s open air courtyard.
"Is that why they built the new building?" I asked, focusing on Sadie’s question as I passed the joint begrudgingly to Dave.
Dave grabbed a flashlight we brought and turned it on, pointing it up below his chin. With the attention still on him, he contorted his face into a demonic smile and asked, "Do you want to hear a ghost story?"
Sadie rolled her eyes, but I was starting to feel it. The wind howled, and a full moon shone through, bright white, above us. Things had taken on a surreal quality.
"Sure," I said, giving in.
"Should we show him?" asked Dave, now pointing the light at Sadie, who put up a hand to block it. Through the slits in her fingers, her eyes caught mine, and she grinned that devilish grin that would do me in. Time stood still, and I can still see that image to this day.
The headphones crooned from the floor.
“Show me what?” I asked, coughing a few times.
"Well, he has to ask us to show him," she answered as the song played out its final guitar riffs.
"Show me, then," I said, firmly. I would not let them scare me, although I could feel hair stand up on the back of my neck. Sadie grabbed the cd player and turned it off. Dave got up and took a quick look around, leaving the flashlight. I followed them down the hall, up the stairs, and towards the janitor's closet on the second floor. The hallways were a milky white in the moonlight.
"Here," said Sadie, producing her skeleton key. She unlocked the door and revealed a small, dark room. I stood next to Dave as she entered and pulled the light switch, which temporarily blinded all of us. My vision returned, and I saw Sadie, smiling at me, holding behind her the handle to another door. This was odd, and I must have made a funny look, because she snickered and Dave laughed too.
Why was there a door there between the mops and a shelf of cleaning supplies? It was old, made of scratched up wood, and reminded me of the auditorium doors, which were supposedly the only remnants of the original building.
Sadie turned and put the key in the lock, which hissed, and then pulled hard against the heavy wood slab. It creaked, and a sickly cool air rushed out at us, clashing with the muggy Florida atmosphere we had been breathing.
"After you," said Sadie, beckoning us forward. Dave smiled at me and grabbed my sleeve to pull me but Sadie stopped him. "After you," she said again, eyes staring into him. He froze for only a moment, took a gulp, then regained his composure. He turned and gave me a look of disdain and marched forward, kneeling, down what appeared to be a small staircase. Sadie then grabbed me quick, behind my back her arm slid, and she kissed me long and deep. "You should leave," she whispered, and I barely registered it with the sensory overload of her lips, smooth palm on my back, electric, and the overwhelming scent of her.
"GO!" she said, and pushed me out, back into the hallway, closing the first door behind her. I stood for a moment flabbergasted, still feeling the hand on my back, seeing the door within a door. Another moment passed, and I caught my breath. I'm high as fuck, I thought to myself. Holy shit, they really got me.
I tried the door, but it was locked from the inside. "Hey, come on, let me in!" I said, and banged hard against it. No answer came. I looked around the barren white hallway that would be packed again with kids at the start of the new week. I saw the red doors that marked our classrooms, and the empty black windows in each of them, like eyes, watching me. They had left me out here. Probably to mess with me. Or worse, they were in there making out, laughing at the fact that I had bought their little door trick.
No, I thought, I'm the cool guy.
Back downstairs, in the courtyard, under the full moon, I found the flashlight that Dave had left. I ran up quickly, looking at the sky, and hoped my high would wear off soon. Stars blended together in swirls of white, which told me I still had time to go.
Against the handle I slammed the flashlight. It clanged loudly and echoed through the halls, but nothing stirred, and still I heard no sound from inside the closet. I banged it harder and harder, until the handle came off, and the door limply opened. Once inside, I clicked on the flashlight and saw the inner door. It was still there, open and beckoning me forward, light disappearing down its depths. I checked each corner of the room, but Sadie and Dave were certainly not there. This was real. I clicked off the flashlight, and, in the dark, I could sense light coming from wherever those hideous steps led.
I'm the cool guy, I told myself, and edged forward. With my first step, I made contact with a mossy surface. This was reassuring, something I could wrap my head around, and I took another step, crouching down.
I descended for some time. My hand steadied me against the wall, which was stony and soon became slick with moisture. This was the furthest I had ever been underground. Basements were something people joked about having in South Florida. Must be limestone, I thought. Another rational conclusion in an irrational circumstance, which I took as a sign that everything would be okay. I trudged on further until the ground leveled out, and I was able to stand. The light was brighter now, almost green, and came from the end of long passage in front of me. There was a gentle slope downwards, and I continued, flashlight in hand. I wished I had used the payphone outside school to call Dad, but it was too late now. I could feel my heart beating in my chest and took a few deep breaths to calm myself.
I can turn around, I thought. The green light was closer now. Turn around, came that inner voice again.
My feet were already turning for me when I heard it - a shriek, that lingered, ghastly, and froze me to my core. Then, again, filling the walls. I thought of Sadie, and then my mother, killed in that hit and run and left for dead. Courage welled up inside my chest. Fighting every fiber of my being that wanted to run, I marched forward, flashlight behind me, cocked and ready to swing.
The passageway ended and opened up to an ancient chamber. In its center, was a pit of green fire. There was no time to process as my eyes were drawn behind it, to Dave. He was hanging by his ankles, naked, with pieces of skin peeled back and blood oozing down his pale white flesh. On his face was a twisted smile, like the one he made earlier with the flashlight, and he shrieked with pleasure once more as he saw me. His hand rose from below his head, blood red, and pointed at me upside down through the flames. Sadie emerged from behind him, cloaked, with a large flaying knife held in her right hand.
"You came!" she said, stepping quickly around the fire, towards my once again frozen body. Her blue eyes sparkled green, and her red lips curled into a smile. "We were getting worried you wouldn't show," she said, then closer, into my ear, "the spell only works if you come here despite my warning."
"It is done!" yelled David, and he tilted his head back in another screech of pleasure. The flames crackled with an increased ferocity.
"I gave you my heart once," she said, stepping forward. Blood dripped down the edge of the blade, and it sparkled in the green light.
"Now give me yours."
. . .
My soul remains trapped until a third and final sacrifice will awaken the terrible deity that keeps me prisoner. I wait for freedom in a world of endless, unspeakable horror. But there is truth in my pain, and I see dimensions that no mortal would ever otherwise see.
To any brave soul that has read this tale: Do not come looking for me! Do not try to save me!
The spell only works if you are warned.
Gabriel Foster
Gabriel Foster is a physician and aspiring novelist living in New York City.