circle in chalk [02]
The smiling nurse has his hands clamped too firmly on Chantal's arms for her to resist effectively, but she tries to plant her feet anyway as he pushes her down the hall. Her high heels make skidding sounds on the white tile floor. The nurse doesn't speak, and his smile doesn't falter.
He releases one of her arms when they come to the door of a more dimly-lit room, and she tries to jerk away, spurred into action by the prospect of being locked up. "HELP!" she shouts. "I'm not supposed to be here!"
It's no use. Gently but with irresistible firmness, the smiler pushes her into the room and shuts the door behind her. Shakily, she looks around. With her in the windowless room are two other people, one male, one female. The woman is writing feverishly on the wall with a piece of chalk, drawing the end of some sort of spiral. The man is slumped on the floor, catatonic, curled into a fetal position. Chantal moves warily along the wall, trying to keep away from them. "H...hello?" she asks tentatively.
There is no answer for a long moment, then the woman says, "None of us are supposed to be here." She doesn't even turn to look at the girl.
"What?" Chantal says, and notices one of the drawings near the woman's feet. It's a six-pointed star in a circle, surrounded with sigils and signs and the word 'Tetragrammaton'. That's magic, her brain says. But of course that's ridiculous. Magic doesn't exist.
Then again, neither do haunted houses that turn abruptly into hospitals.
She approaches the circle and kneels by it, running her fingers over the sigils. One is the symbol for a demon. She's positive. One is for fire. One means change. "Why did you draw this?" She asks the woman.
"I didn't," says the woman. "You did."
And suddenly, Chantal is aware of a piece of white chalk resting in the palm of her hand. She stares at it a moment, then throws it against the wall and leaps to her feet, staggering away from the writing woman. This isn't right. She can't stay here.
She turns around and begins to kick and beat on the door, screaming for help.
He releases one of her arms when they come to the door of a more dimly-lit room, and she tries to jerk away, spurred into action by the prospect of being locked up. "HELP!" she shouts. "I'm not supposed to be here!"
It's no use. Gently but with irresistible firmness, the smiler pushes her into the room and shuts the door behind her. Shakily, she looks around. With her in the windowless room are two other people, one male, one female. The woman is writing feverishly on the wall with a piece of chalk, drawing the end of some sort of spiral. The man is slumped on the floor, catatonic, curled into a fetal position. Chantal moves warily along the wall, trying to keep away from them. "H...hello?" she asks tentatively.
There is no answer for a long moment, then the woman says, "None of us are supposed to be here." She doesn't even turn to look at the girl.
"What?" Chantal says, and notices one of the drawings near the woman's feet. It's a six-pointed star in a circle, surrounded with sigils and signs and the word 'Tetragrammaton'. That's magic, her brain says. But of course that's ridiculous. Magic doesn't exist.
Then again, neither do haunted houses that turn abruptly into hospitals.
She approaches the circle and kneels by it, running her fingers over the sigils. One is the symbol for a demon. She's positive. One is for fire. One means change. "Why did you draw this?" She asks the woman.
"I didn't," says the woman. "You did."
And suddenly, Chantal is aware of a piece of white chalk resting in the palm of her hand. She stares at it a moment, then throws it against the wall and leaps to her feet, staggering away from the writing woman. This isn't right. She can't stay here.
She turns around and begins to kick and beat on the door, screaming for help.