Alex gazed at the clock as if somehow by his own sheer will power, he could make the hands move faster bringing his long and uneventful shift to an end.

Working at the small town theatre had its privileges. Putting a little money in your pocket was one of them. Another was getting to watch all the free movies you wanted, and yes even popcorn. All the stale old popcorn that you could eat. Old man Taylor hated throwing it out. Anytime he was forced to throw the leftovers away he would stand in the lobby in front of the counter recounting the tales from his youth that his grandfather told him about the depression and how they had to scrap for everything.

“We didn’t waste anything, you little bastards don’t know how good you’ve got it!”

Old man Taylor clenched the handle of his cane tightly with his right hand, leaning precariously forward. Alex noticed the size of the veins that ran thru the old mans hands. They twisted and tracked along the length of his arm like rivers. It made him think of the song his 3^rd grade teacher Ms. Jackson would make them sing about the mighty Mississippi river. Mighty veins, mighty river, mighty man?

Alex was quickly brought back to reality when Taylor’s left hand reached its destination and firmly grasped his shoulder. At first he thought he had grabbed him so strongly because he was falling, barely catching himself. He soon realized that was not the case when he was pulled slightly to the side, forcing him to turn. He loosened his grip as their eyes finally met. Cane in hand, leaning forward, he beckoned Alex closer.

He was trying to tell him something.

They entered what seemed to be the longest silence ever. There was no sound, not even ambient noise. The hum of the old lights adorning the once pristine theatre walls was gone. The ticking of the clock that he had previously stared at was disturbingly absent as well. All that remained was him, Taylor and a bag of stale popcorn that lead to a dumpster right out front. But he couldn’t move, he didn’t want to because he was afraid. He didn’t know why and frankly he didn’t question it. His mother had taught him well enough not to mess with things you don’t understand, to tread lightly. Respect things you fear, never forget that. Although it defied explanation, he knew something wasn’t right and he had no intention and starting anything that would end badly for him.

“Did you want to tell me anything Mr.Taylor?” Shifting nervously bag still in hand, he continued “If not, I’d like to dump this bag and get going. It’s late and I need to be somewhere.”

Taylor seemed to snap out of it. He shock his head and waved the young man past him.

“You can stop by in the morning to get your paycheck. I’ll lock up behind you.”

The clenched bag stayed pinned tightly to his shoulder, blocking his view. Alex walked towards the door, passing Taylor in just a few short steps. He figured he should  turn to say goodnight.  As if by some divine command the lights dimmed to near nonexistence, forcing his eyes to rapidly adjust to the darkness. Soon after they fell completely dark. The light from the moon was the only thing left as it danced across the lobby floor, casting defiant shadows off of anything it touched. It was from the darkness and from the silence that he noticed the stench. Foul and brazen in it’s offense, he gagged a little. It was quick like the jab from a pro boxer but he was able to keep it under control.

“Oh my God, what is that?!” Alex turned slowly in the dark to face where Taylor had once been. He had said it as if he were speaking to someone else, Taylor perhaps. But he knew deep down that he was alone in that room. The only normal, functioning human being in there at least.

Almost immediately his peripheral vision alerted him to the fact that something was grossly wrong with whatever it was standing to his side. The giant bag of refuse was his only line of defense between him and it.  It gave him a false comfort like that of a child hiding under its blanket afraid to come out to close the closet door. Terrified he wondered if he should drop the bag slowly so he could see what it was. Frozen in fear, he couldn’t move his feet at all. It was if the hands of the devil himself had reached up from hell to hold him in place. He cringed at the idea of what something that smelled like that must look like.

Alex now knew where the sound had gone, replaced only be his inner workings. The mammoth being stood before him so large and unassailable that it blocked out sound itself. It was humanoid in appearance; consisting of arms legs and a head but the proportions and appearance of which were not made by a loving God. This was from hell. Alex wasn’t even a person of faith and he knew that.

Adorned with only a large black rubber apron, the bulbous and gelatinous being tilted it’s head back sighing heavily. At the end of its breath it leaned its head forward and looked Alex coldly in his eyes.

No one should have to see what he saw. To stare into such darkness is not fitting an end for any mans soul. You couldn’t help but feel that way looking at it. You knew there was no hope. If it caught you, it would kill you and you knew it. It wasn’t a suggestion or a mild topic for discussion it was a fact. Its eyes told you all you needed to know. They were  larger than a large mans fist and all black. There were no pupils, there was no light, they swallowed all they surveyed. An inky blackness, glazed over with a glossy shine that welcomed eternity.

He knew then that it was now or never. Alex turned sharply dropping the bag and bolting to towards the door. But much like Taylor, the door was now gone and instead in front of him was a long single corridor made of coble stone. It was dank and dark with a solitary light at the end of the tunnel mounted right above a large wooden door. The air was heavy and moldy. No fresh air had ever been in that place-whatever I was-since its existence. It smelled like the end and despite running as hard as he could, he still moved nowhere it seemed.

It was hungry for him, angry even. Too big to move swiftly thru the large tunnel, it clawed and pulled its body abrasively against the walls, one step at a time, getting ever closer. For every one step it took, Alex took 8 and it wasn’t getting any better; the door wasn’t getting any closer he could feel his end coming. An instinct all creatures feel but only humans know what it means. He remembered his grandmother coming home from church Sundays taking about the weeping and gnashing of teeth. Perhaps this is what she had meant. Whatever this this thing was, it was helping to create those ballads of woe.