I stood holding the door open like some apparition from the scariest experience remembered by the soul of Carr Beholden, a hotel employee perhaps, one killed in some unfortunate accident and left to haunt the front door ready to greet visitors. I would then usher them inside with ghoulish gestures and creaking doors. I could somehow feel my cheeks stretch tight over rickety bones and my eyes sink into dark hollows. My life drained from me as the terror set itself upon me.
They had arrived too quickly. Dreamdarkers rushed at me. They were all around me. Horrible waves of black malevolence washed over me like a tsunami. My arms waved uncontrollably through the endless shadow surrounding me, and I screamed for salvation. My pain and terror blew into the wind with blood-curdling force yet quickly fatigued and vanished in the heavy curtain that blanketed me. Even so, no help was forthcoming. I would die and I knew it. I felt the pressure increase against my bladder, so I braced myself for the soul-crushing childhood terror stemming from wetting my pants while awake. I wished for death, wanted nothing more than to have my heart cleaved from my chest so I could die holding the door open like a gentleman.
As is obvious, I’m not done with this part yet. Hell, I’m not done with the whole damn book yet. Nevertheless, I like the scenario developing in these paragraphs, so I thought I’d share it with you. It has to expand and mature in great leaps and bounds. That much is obvious. But it still has a nice feel, I think.
Then again, maybe I’m just full of myself.