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Dolor Aeternus - The Door

Part 2

I am in a crevice. Everything is tight. I'm squeezed between two walls, and I can see a tiny bit of light so very far above me. The walls have a weird texture to them, and they're very hard. I turn my head around to look the other way, but see nothing different. I turn my head back around and start shuffling along the walls. The silver lining is that I can fully breathe in. I can only hope that lasts.

I hear something. I stop to listen. A clicking sound? It’s kind of hard to tell. It’s coming from further down this crevice, and it’s rhythmic. Click. Pause. Click. Pause. I wait.

I try to focus my eyes and look ahead. It’s too damn dark. There’s so little light that I can’t even properly see the wall right in front of me. I have no hope of figuring anything out by observing. I have to keep moving. As I get further, I feel rocks protruding from the walls behind and in front of me. I stop again. More clicking sounds. Now there are multiple sources. It sounds like there’s 3 or 4 of them, clicking in a weird harmony. I really wish I could see better.

The many rocks that uncomfortably rub against me from both sides get longer, and put more pressure on my body. I breathe more heavily at the constant discomfort. There are also way more clicking noises the further I go. No… I get close enough that it’s right ahead of me, just a few feet. No, not clicking. It's the sound of teeth clashing, like you do when you're really cold and shivering.

At this point I can hear dozens of them. It's like someone wound up a bunch of those chattering teeth toys and threw them down here. By the time I figure this out and consider trying to go back again, it’s too late. The many long protruding rocks almost seem to push against me when I try going backwards. A sense of panic starts bubbling up, but I hold it down. I try again, and fail. The rocks must be positioned in just the angle to allow me to move in one direction and one direction only. I try calming myself down.

It’s probably gonna be just a bit longer, and I’ll be out of here. Yeah, just a bit more. I continue moving, and now the sound is coming from right in front of me. I stop for a moment and try my hardest to look at the source of the sound, but I just can’t see well enough. It’s so close, too, and my heart is pounding really fast as fear starts setting in.

I keep moving, trying to think of anything that isn’t this place. Anything at all. Come on, Jack. Think of a nice beach as the sun rises. It’s not hot yet, and the breeze feels just right. I don’t stop moving, and my mind continues to conjure beautiful images. The crevice gets narrower, my heart beats faster, and the chattering sounds get more numerous. Most of them are right behind me and right in front of me, with a small amount above or below me.

My chest begins compressing while my body is forced to move along the still narrowing crevice. My face will soon press into the wall in front of me. The rocks protruding from the walls become longer and longer, scraping harder against my skin. I force my mind into a happier place again. I’m walking on that same beach. Strangers call out to me. They need one more person for their beach volleyball game. I join them. They’re fun people. I’m telling stupid jokes during the game, and they all seem to like them. I can do this. I can make it out of here. I can-

The pain instantly pulls me out of my daydream. The dozens of chattering sounds around me all over the walls are so loud. I feel the teeth moving against my skin, and realize that the front of my left thigh has been bitten. Just a tiny amount of skin was ripped off. Another bite startles me. This time it's my left lower back, taking a small amount of skin as well. I could feel enough of the bite to confirm that they are definitely human teeth. The long rocks are now painting a much clearer picture as they start to actively push me deeper into the crevice. Fingers.

The texture is unmistakable. Long, bony fingers. The odd texture of the walls finally clicks for me. I’m squeezed between walls made of bones. There are dozens of those damn skeleton fingers pushing me along. They're surprisingly strong for their size, and I am powerless to resist. It wants me to keep moving. It doesn't want me to rest. It’s a dead, yet living thing, and it has a taste for flesh. I am slowly being digested. Digestion begins at the mouth. So… what awaits me at the end of this crevice?

The crevice gets narrower, the skeletal fingers pushing me deeper, and deeper. The narrower it gets, the better the jaws can bite me. My skin is slowly torn and ripped away from all over my body, and my chest is so compressed that I can only take very shallow breaths. It takes me a while to notice the new sound. It takes me even longer to realize that it’s the sound of my own sobbing.

The tears that trickle down my face are hardly noticeable when my body is being exposed. My clothes offer little in the way of resistance to the imposing and greedy teeth. The jaws get more appetizing bites out of me, now digging into my body instead of only getting my skin. Each one of those human jaws has the biting force of a crocodile. The crevice stops getting narrower, and the fingers keep pushing me along. Please. Let this end.

My right shoulder. Bite. My left ankle. Bite. The nape of my neck. Bite. My left eyelid. Bite.

The unrelenting jaws keep taking more and more pieces of me. I can barely focus and think, but I manage to understand one thing. I’m not supposed to die here. The crevice could’ve kept getting narrower, letting the jaws get closer, letting them take more than just a few pounds of flesh. They want me alive.

I have zero clue as to how I’m even remaining conscious. Not to mention the fact that no matter how many times my skeletal wardens bite down, there's always enough flesh to feed them. It started a while ago. I'm both surprised it took me this long to notice, and surprised I even noticed at all.

The mystery regarding the nature of my intense anguish offers a respite, albeit a small one. It won't take me long to crack this mystery, but anything that can distract me from the pain is nothing short of a blessing. I focus as hard as I can on my body. I try to isolate the pain. For succeeding in this feat alone, I should be awarded some kind of prize. Unfortunately, I know that in just a moment, I'll be pulled out of this state like a piece of juicy chicken being eaten off of the bone.

I focus on one of the parts that have already been taken, my left ankle. I think and feel nothing else. It's definitely missing. I can suddenly feel a small pressure of teeth touching the surrounding area of the missing ankle, and now it's back. The realization hits like a truck, and I'm snapped out of my reverie. The pain is hitting all over my body once more, like I've been left in a storm of sharp hail with no shelter. Those bastards are eating me, and then spitting me back out.

The crevice is getting much narrower. I am mere seconds away from having my internal organs join the feast. My brain goes into overdrive, and time compresses. My mind wants to delay the approaching fate as much as possible. In those few precious moments, I perceive a new sound. No, multiple sounds. From all around me. The jaws that aren't busy biting me have begun laughing. I knew this was a living creature, but everything about it felt mechanical. A machine that's meant to serve a malevolent purpose on the behest of someone or something other than itself. I was wrong. It, or they, are enjoying this. It's clear they aren't deriving any physical nutrients from me, so is it my pain that gives them sustenance? The long moment of pondering comes to an end, and the newest chapter of my agony begins. The walls press into me harder, and the teeth scratch into my body even deeper.

The pain is so unbearable, that it clears the other mystery – how I'm still conscious. This place, this thing, is somehow keeping me awake and on the verge of sanity just so that I can suffer the most. Why? Is it really sustained by my pain? Am I just extremely unlucky that I wound up here? Or is there a different reason for this? What have I done to deserve this?

I try to look back at my life. Have I truly done something so horrible, that my soul now belongs to this otherworldly arbiter of unholy punishment? Most of my mind is missing. My memories are but the tiniest pieces, none large enough to recall. But somehow, only one memory has been saved from whatever maelstrom tore up the rest. I don't question it, and my consciousness is transferred to relive that precious memory. It must be precious, if it's the only thing left of me.

“Jack! Wake up! You're gonna be late for school!”

Jenna's voice was loud enough to wake me up, but somehow it was so soft and soothing at the same time, that I felt pleasantly pulled away from sleep.

“Yeah, yeah, I'm awake…”

My eyes opened to see her warm smile.

“Okay. Brush your teeth and get dressed, then we'll leave. We don't have time to stay for breakfast, but I packed you lunch”

“Got it, Mom-”

The smile that rarely left Jenna's face was gone just as fast as I finished uttering the words. Seeing this, I felt a sharp pain in my heart.

“I'm so sorry, Jenna. I didn't mean it. I swear.“

She forced a smile

“That's okay. Don't worry about it, Jack.”

She was always terrible at hiding her pain. No, actually, she was very good at it. But whenever anyone mentioned Mom, she could hardly hold it in.

Jenna taught me not to overthink things, so I followed my gut and just wrapped my arms around her. She hesitated for a moment until she heard me speak again.

“Thank you for always taking care of me.”

Just as soon as her arms wrapped back around me, tears started flooding her face. I could feel them soaking through my shirt, but I didn't care. I rubbed her back and continued speaking.

“I know I can't get things done like you do, but just like you're always here for me, I'm here for you.”

“Jack…!” She yelled through her sobs, sounding like a lost child who got separated from her parents, afraid she’ll never see home again.

Jenna has gotten used to holding it in, thinking it's what's best for everyone else. My 14 year old sister, who's a year younger than myself, is the one who had to pull through once my Mom decided to leave us a few years ago.

We stayed like this for a few more minutes, before Jenna's sobs turned into sniffling, and we both slowly released the hug.

“Everything will be okay, Jenna,” I said with a smile.

“I know… I know…”

She took a deep breath and composed herself.

“Wow, I really needed that. Okay, we can't afford to take much longer. Get ready, I'll wait for you in the kitchen.”

I felt amazed at how quickly she looked like herself again, after crying into my shoulder just a moment ago.

After brushing my teeth and getting dressed, I went to the kitchen. I held my open backpack in front of me, and Jenna smiled as she put the packed lunch into my backpack. I zipped it closed, and looked towards the living room. I clenched my fist at the sight of my own father sleeping on the couch, surrounded by empty bottles of beer. I heard Jenna's voice behind me.

“He fell asleep like that again last night. I would carry him to his bed if I could.”

Ever since Mom left us, Dad hasn't been the same. Thank God for Jenna. She's the only real grownup in this house.

“I know you would… He's the one who does that to himself. He cares about those beers more than his own children.”

My fist clenched tighter, and my fingernails started digging into my skin. For a moment, I felt like I was someone else. I wanted to hurt him.

“Jack!”

Jenna grabbed my fist with both of her hands, gently. I turned to see her warm smile, and my muscles relaxed, opening my hand. Seeing her smile always calmed me down, no matter how angry I got.

“Come on!”

Jenna opened the front door and pulled me out before locking the door behind us.

I want to leave, I can’t take this anymore. The pain… The sounds… I am so completely overwhelmed that I don’t even have any understanding of where I am anymore. Of what’s going on.

A few more minutes of this torture later, and I feel my sanity slipping away. Am I finally being allowed an escape? At this point I want to be broken. I don’t want to face this anymore.

I’m lying on the ground, face down. It happened so fast that I didn’t even notice it until minutes later. My entire body hurts so bad that it’s partially numb. They took as much as they could without injuring me to the point I would be incapacitated. All of my limbs are still here. My organs are still here. I’ve been gasping for air for a while now, and only now seem to be able to breathe properly. The panic is slowly going away, but at the same time, the fear and pain are etched so deeply into my soul, and I know It’ll never go away.

I got what I wished for. I feel broken. But at least the gnawing stopped. I stay there, lying down, resting. They… or it – pushed me out of that crevice. I don’t have the strength to get up. I want to keep resting. I want to, but I’m not allowed to. I can’t even tell up from down as skeletal hands grab my body and move me. They all seem attached to the walls, passing me along. They’re taking me somewhere, but at least my body isn’t being squeezed through a living blender anymore. I feel dizzy, the skeletal hands turning my body to move me along some unseen path through the darkness.

They stop, and hold me up. They know I don’t have the strength to stand on my own right now. I can feel moisture in the air around me, and warm breathing coming from behind, touching my whole body. The skeletal hands force my head up, to look ahead. There’s a bit more light now, and I can see a door. It’s made entirely of bone, and the doorknob is a closed, human skeleton’s fist. Something about that door seems familiar, but I don't understand what. I hear the chattering of teeth from near both my ears, and my entire body recoils. Not again, please, PLEASE! I can feel them getting closer to my ears, and then, they speak. First from the left, then right, then left again, and right again.

“The” “Mouth”

“Of” “Hell”

They want me to make a choice. My body is held up, but my limbs are free to move. There's a pang in my chest, my heart aching, when I think about opening that door. I am feeling very conflicted, as I slowly reach for the doorknob.

I am in a void. Everything is bright. Everything is dark. Everything is day. Everything is night.

This place is everything and nothing at the same time. I feel extremely bored and extremely excited. The happiest I've ever been, and the most depressed.

I try to walk forward, and I succeed, but, somehow, I'm moving backwards at the same time.

I can hardly explain this well enough. It's like my mind is being torn apart and put back together thousands of times every second. I honestly have no idea if I'm suffering the worst fate that could ever befall anyone, or if this is where I want to stay.

I try to move backwards, and at the same time my body moves forward.

Is it even possible to get out of here?

I'm so confused, and yet I can see everything clearly. I must…

It's been decades. After a few years, I gave up on trying to move. My mind and soul were forced to remain in this place. My will to try and get out became non-existent. So what changed? Is this place rejecting me after all this time? Did my brain get used to this confusing mess that scrambled it without rest? I feel an extreme urge to seek something out. I'm being drawn to something. But what? It's something specific. Something I forgot. Is it the way out?

An oddly familiar feeling slowly creeps out of my gut. Fuck this place. I will not be caged here. Clenching my fist, I walk forward. It feels unnatural, to say the least, but I can tell I'm actually moving mostly in one direction. Maybe my willpower is helping me resist the curse of this void. I'll walk for as long as it takes.

My body doesn't age in this place. That feeling in my gut gets stronger. I begin to feel like I'm someone else. Like another person has taken the helm, and I… I let him. My longing becomes clearer. I want to hurt someone. Anyone. Despite the conflicting emotions and feelings this void is forcing upon me, an unmistakable and wrong feeling of euphoria takes over me for just one short moment, when a few things seem to click into place. I feel like I'm back after being in a dream for a very long time. Is this who I am? Is this what I've been missing? I'm getting out of here, no matter the cost I or someone else has to pay.

It's been centuries. The void curse’s effects have been waning ever so slowly. My mind isn't being torn apart and rebuilt anymore. I finally feel normal again. Okay, maybe not normal. I'm not normal, that much is clear to me now. I wonder if I've ever been normal. Despite feeling more whole now, there's still something I'm missing. What makes a person who they are? The experiences they go through? The choices they make? If so, what is a person without memories? Is it someone who's dead, or someone who's been reborn? Perhaps both are true. The only thing left of my true self is that burning feeling in my gut. It's like an umbilical cord, connecting me to my past. It's all I have, so I'll hold on to it, and keep going.

I'm making progress. I'll find what I'm looking for. I also need to remember what exactly that is in the first place. This void is just total darkness now. Before the curse lifted, it was impossible to tell. The emptiness of this vast space, and the space left vacant inside me, leaves me wondering many things as I walk through the void. What is this place? How and why did I get here? And why does it feel like I've asked myself those exact questions before, in different places?

I guess I reached something, because it felt like I walked off a ledge. Now I'm falling down. I wonder how long I'll have to wait now. After everything I've been through, I'm not scared anymore. This is kind of relaxing, actually.

Not much time passed before I realized I'm out of that void. It took me a while to notice, but after a few months of falling, the darkness around me changed. I can tell now that I'm in a hole. It's still dark, and the hole is immense. At least I'm getting out.

I am in a rainstorm. It's night. I'm completely naked, and I can barely see anything. The raindrops are like tiny sharp hammers. They pound on my body, causing tiny indents wherever they hit. I cover my head with my arms, and the rain slowly digs tiny holes into my arms. I shake and moan in pain. I must endure this. I'm getting out. I clench my teeth. It's just a game of luck at this point – whether I find the way out in this dark hellhole before I perish. I start walking, the only thing pulling me forward is the vision I have of leaving this place. I have a renewed strength now, one that I forgot ever existed. But I'm still human, and I know I won't be able to handle this for too long. I start screaming in pain. The rain has now dug deep enough to hit my bones. I keep my arms over my head. I don't know if I can truly die here, but I can only imagine it will get worse for me if I do. I scream non-stop, the raindrops hitting my bones until they begin to crack. The strong ego and strength I felt mean nothing anymore. Pain is the only thing I’m allowed to have in this land. Minutes later, and my forearms are as good as gone, along with my ability to hold my arms up. Now the real pain begins. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. I look down to protect my face, but this rain is alive, and it knows. It changes trajectory to hit its mark. I think about leaving. My head and my face are slowly stripped away of skin and flesh, and-

I am in a sea of flames. My entire body is on fire, but the intensity of the flames doesn't match the rate at which my body burns. Right. This place wants me to suffer, and I will. But I'll also get out. I focus on that thought for no more than a few seconds. I am naked here as well, so I don't have any clothes that would protect me even a little bit. My skin is being singed. Then my vision blurs, and the screams I was so desperately holding back come out. All fluid in my eyes boil, and my vision darkens. I can still hear the sounds of my own screams, which will not stop for a second. I need this to end. I need to leave. I must endure. The heat intensifies and my screams finally stop. My vocal chords have burned away. I can barely tell what's going on in my own body. Pain is the only thing I’m allowed to have in this land. I think about leaving. My brain is being cooked-

I am in a plateau of ice. I don't have enough time to take a single step. The ice slowly spreads from the ground to my naked body, starting with my feet. I'm shaking all over. It hurts really bad, but I will not falter. The ice makes its way up my body from the inside, and I know that my legs are not usable anymore. My steadfast spirit wavers, because the pain of the ice freezing my thighs is one I'm not sure I can manage. Panic begins to set and I breathe heavily. The ice climbs my testicles and I scream quietly through gritted teeth. I must endure. When the ice goes through my abdomen, I crack. My screams echo through the cold air. Screaming is a right I am about to lose. Pain is the only thing I’m allowed to have in this land. I scream harder and harder as the ice continues its climb, and then I stop. I can no longer breathe, my lungs have been overtaken. The ice spreads faster now, and makes its way to my face. I think about leaving. The ice reaches my brain and begins to shatter-

I am inside a stomach. I have to swim to at least keep my head out of the acid. It's definitely not normal stomach acid. It feels like my entire body is burning, but it's very different from the way fire feels. My skin is melting away. Don't lose it now, Jack. You have to leave. My flesh and muscles corrode and my screams live a short life. I can keep myself afloat no longer. Pain is the only thing I’m allowed to have in this land. My voice drowns in the acid, and the skin on my face and head is already gone. I think about leaving. The acid goes through my skull quickly, reaching my brain and melting-

I am in a large mouth. I'm standing on its tongue. The mouth is closed. Each of the teeth is a different shape, bearing no resemblance to human or animal teeth. Despite the irregular shapes, they all fit together, and leave just the tiniest cracks between them. I feel warm air coming from behind me as this creature breathes out. I can hear a whistle ringing through the cracks in its teeth, and a pain throbs in my heart. Then air is being sucked in, the creature breathing in. A different whistling sound rings out, but my heart is in the same pain upon hearing it. I know exactly where I am, as memories of hellish places flood my mind in great detail. In those memories lies a choice. One choice that I seemed to make every single time. One that I can't fathom. I have to leave this place.

The front teeth shift and alter form. The dark brown wooden door that appears before me is all too familiar. My eyes lock on the silver doorknob. It's a sight I've seen before. I've seen it every single day of my adult life. And now it's here. Calling me. The ringing of the whistle turns into the ringing of a thunderous bell. The sound waves bounce around inside my skull, causing my consciousness to focus on something else, to shift to another time and place.

My hands were covered in blood.

“What the fuck happened?” I thought to myself.

I looked around. Everything else in my room was pristine, but the blood on my hands was fresh. I couldn't find any wounds anywhere, and I didn't feel any pain, except for the throbbing headache. My room's door was unlocked. How? When? I made sure it can't be unlocked from the inside. I always locked my door before I went to sleep. I stared at my door. The dark brown wooden door felt like it was taunting me, for thinking it could be enough to keep me inside.

A few moments later, I noticed the door was slightly ajar, and a few drops of blood were on the floor just outside. I walked to the door, and sweat started running down my face as I reached my hand and pushed the door open. More blood. A trail of blood drops was leading in the direction of the bathroom. I hesitated for a moment, and looked back. The silver doorknob on the outside of my door was tainted with blood. I turned around and followed the trail, seeing more and more blood the closer I got to the bathroom.

The door was already open, but I couldn't see inside the bathroom from where I was standing. I didn’t want to look inside. My entire body felt hot and cold at the same time. It felt like my entire upper body was getting completely wet with how much I was sweating, and I could hardly breathe. I concentrated as best I could to try and remember what happened. I ignored the one thing I knew had to have happened. I knew what it was, but I refused to accept it. This couldn't be real. My sister, Jenna, was supposed to come visit me that day.

I grabbed my chest, which caused my shirt to crease, and stained it with blood. I almost ripped it with how hard my fist was clenching. I was having a full on panic attack. It felt like the entire earth threatened to open up and swallow me whole, like the skies would shatter and crash down on me. I had to think, and think hard. That was the only thing I felt I could actually do at the time.

Maybe Jenna didn't make it. That's right! Her taxi driver fucked up and went to the wrong address. Or maybe she didn't wake up in time. Maybe she was so tired she just slept the entire day! No, I know! She forgot to pack her things! She realized she forgot to get a few days off at work so she had to stay until she sorted things out. She got sick. She… she just felt really lazy and decided to stay in bed all day and order pizza.

My brain ran a thousand miles an hour coming up with every possible scenario under the sun that could've prevented her from getting to my apartment. It has probably only been a minute, but it felt like I stood there for hours.

I thought to myself: If I didn't look, did it really happen?

I shook my head. Schrodinger's murder. What a fucking joke. Standing still wouldn't change anything. I had to face reality. I turned the corner and went into the bathroom.

I fall to my knees and weep. Tears flood my face. My memories are whole again, even though my heart will always have a gaping hole in it. When I look down at my hands, the blood is still there. It's a part of me. The tears that drip all over my hands aren't enough to wash the blood away. They can't change the past. It takes me a long time to compose myself. I feel a painful confidence as I look at the door.

This time, I don't even attempt to reach for the doorknob. These hands of mine created hell when they snuffed out the brightest light that shone in the world. I have to stay, because the hell my hands inflict upon others is infinitely worse than any hell that could be inflicted upon myself.

FIN

Author's note:

Hi, I'm Fraudulent Clockmaker, and this is my first story.

The story was written in present tense from the prespective of the protagonist. It's unusual and may be jarring / unpleasent to read. It was inspired by dream journaling. For those of you who don't know - dream journaling is meant to be written in this format to help the writer relive the dreams while writing them. This supposedly helps recalling them and more easily putting them into paper. I wanted the story to begin in a dream-like state and escape the fogginess over time.

I also wanted my first story to explore different unique environments so I could experiment with writing. So exploring different layers of hell was perfect for that. I know the premise is far from unique, but I hope my take on it is still unique enough to be an entertaining read.

I also wanted the protagonist to have a journey of self-discovery, giving a reason for the him being where he is. Flashbacks to deepen the character and connecting him to the entire setting. The door motif to give him a choice after every time he goes deeper.

The meaning of the title is simple – as far as I’ve researched it – Dolor Aeternus is latin and can mean "Eternal Sorrow" or "Eternal Pain" – both of which fit perfectly with the theme of the story.

It was all done on instinct - for the sake of dipping my toes into writing and seeing how it feels. I honestly don't know if the story is good or bad. I'm happy either way.

A little bit about me:

I have loved creepypastas for as long as I can remember, although I had an on-and-off relationship with them over the years. A couple of years ago I started listening to Creepcast and horror short stories audio readings. This revived my love for horror stories, in a bigger way than before.

After listening to Mother Horse Eyes on audio, which quickly became my favorite horror story ever, something changed. After listening to it again on creepcast a month or two later - it solidified - I wanted to write, badly. (Actually it was also a badly written story that I listened to at the same period of time that pushed me to write. I wanted to aspire to do great like the stories I loved the most, and I also felt I could do better than the badly written ones.) I won't name the other story because I don't ever want to put another author down.

Badly written stories, in my opinion, do have an important place in the world. If you have passion for writing - write! If it's bad? Keep writing, and learn from your mistakes! Put your stories out there!

I try my very best to keep the mindset of writing for myself. I'm doing it from and for my heart. If no one reads my stories - that's ok.

To cap off - this story was written in about 3-4 weeks. I am currently working on another story - less experimental and more coherent. I'm close to finishing it and will post it soon(tm).