Corrigan Smiley, a Junior from Burleson, Texas
The long, thin fingers, green and bony, fragile yet strong, grasped my wrist tighter than a vice. I looked into the creatures’ eyes and felt remorse and understanding. It beckoned me to follow it, almost as if it was asking, but I knew it wasn’t.
The grip on my wrist tightened as we walked. It was nervous. I was nervous.
Where are we going? What is happening? What is going to happen?
There are too many questions, yet so few answers, and there’s not enough time.
The corridor was dark, cold, and damp, with low light generated by candles spaced every few feet, and it was just enough to see my own reflection on the back of the creature’s head. It was bald, green, and shiny, like a giant green yoga ball.
I can see the door it’s leading us to. At the end of the hallway, a great big door laced with golden designs and patterns that look like something the Egyptians themselves crafted. The doorknob is gold with detailed engravings depicting vines and branches of a willow tree. If the situation were any different, I would spend all day staring at the deep, ornate designs of the magnificent door.
The creature let go of my wrist and turned around to stare into the depths of my soul, seemingly piecing together my entire life and everything I stand for faster than a blink of an eye. It probably understood me better than I understood myself.
After what felt like an eternity of constant exposure of my nude soul to this hellish creature, it seemed satisfied. Then came the words.
It opened its mouth to reveal rows of teeth layered like an auditorium full of shark teeth. Its tongue was long and snake-like, and its voice was even creepier.
In a hiss-like whisper, the creature spoke three words: “You are finished.”
The words reverberated through my soul, bouncing around like a choir’s sweet cacophony in an echo chamber.
The creature turned and twisted the handle open on the great, glorious door. The door swung open to reveal a great chamber shrouded in darkness except for a magnificent throne opposite us.
The throne was just as beautiful as the door. It was entirely black obsidian with a wondrous gold inlay lining the sharp edges of it. It was very blocky and not discernible from its background if it weren’t for the gold details. The backrest of it had a beautiful engraving of a willow tree swaying in the breeze.
The creature snatched my wrist yet again and led me forward.
There was no light in the great hall except for a beam shining directly on the throne, singling out the most remarkable object. I could not see anything else in the room, but I could hear them. I could hear the slight shuffle of their feet and the slow whistle that was their breathing. I felt the presence of watchful eyes waiting for me to make a move so that they could pounce.
As we neared the throne, a low hum perturbed my ears. A constant breeze blew right at me. I started to hear whispers all around, and the world started to spin.
The hum grew louder, whispers became shouts, and the spinning became a tornado as we marched forth toward the throne.
The storm of shouts, voices, hums, and music, breezes, flurries, and chaos dissipated as I laid my hand upon the throne.
The creature leading me to this point let go and stepped back while simultaneously taking a knee. From the shadows emerged droves of these creatures, all matching the actions of the first.
In union, they all hissed the words, “Welcome home, our king, long may you reign, from the depths of the abyss to the skies of the night.”