Pillars

A Story by SpaceDeflector

A nightly excursion doesn't go as planned.

"I don't think we should be here, man."

White fog shrouds their faces and the tops of the pillars. Broken silver pillars with carvings etched on from people long forgotten.

Or, at least they should be.

Legend has it that you can still hear them screaming. Victims of the bloodied sacrifices and incantations that arose from these grounds.

"You really think I'm gunna leave cuz of some legend?"

The taller one fishes for something in their pocket and pulls out a small flashlight, like the ones you stick on keychains.

That should be enough, they think.

Enough to fend off the demons they've been chasing for so long. The ones that creep just below their skin, whispering. The fog grows and overtakes the ruins, only leaving a few symbols visible. All covered in stains of rain and long dried blood.

"Weird."

"And another reason why we should go home."

The shorter one rocks back and forth on their heels and grips the end of their blazer, the only bright color amidst the darkness. "No. We didn't come this far just to give up." Just to let their demons win. They seem to have gotten louder. The moans, the screams. Becoming more violent. More alien. Their skin begins to burn and bubble. "I'm going home." The shorter one proclaims as the hairs on the back of their neck stand up. They run off in a quick jog. The last sounds heard from them are the splashing of their shoes in a rain puddle.

"And now I'm alone. Just....me and the fog, I guess."

And the monsters. Begging to be let free from their prison. The hell of the human mind. The sky darkens with the oncoming thunder and rain. The noises just get louder, now accompanied by droplets of red rain pouring down. Blood?

"What the f**k kind of joke?"

The flashlight flickers until it draws its last beam of light. It fizzes just as quickly as it was turned on. The fog wraps around them, blue eyes filled with confusion and brown hairs standing on end. The fog brings images of bloodshed, of bound wrists and bold fires with dark hooded figures hovering over young body after young body. They see the terror in their eyes, hear the screams as if it were their own. One by one, the souls of the dead-of the damned-children show themselves in Technicolor. Mouths agape and spewing their once innocent blood. Black blood and black eyes. The fate of the damned. The fate of all who step into the ruins and dare to shed their own demons only to become one.