Violet

There was a light in the distance. It hung low and orange, casting a small sphere of space in a vacant shadow. Allison could see that she was in some sort of hall. The carpet was deep burgundy, and the walls looked like the skin of a shedding reptile; the floral paper was practically dripping toward the ground.

She turned around and thought, Where in the hell am I? Had she sleepwalked into an abandoned building or something? A tight fist rubbed her eye in large circles, similar to the practice of small, sleepy children. Her blue eyes flitted nervously from shadow to shadow. What a creepy little rabbit-hole. She hoped she would somehow find her way out.

After a minute of deliberation, she decided that the only way to go was forward. As she started walking, she became aware of a distinct sucking sound accompanying every step she took. Confused, she looked down… but the carpet wasn’t wet. It wasn’t even moist. It was warm and dry, like the shirt on her back. She chewed on her bottom lip. Oh well; she must have been hearing things. She started to walk again. The hall before her suddenly stretched out of sight, rippling with the stress and throwing her off her feet. She cried out as she hit the ground. Breathing quickly, she stared up at the ceiling, and saw that it was normal. Her head turned and she realized nothing had happened. A little troubled, she crawled to her feet and continued going toward the slightly-swinging light.

When she came under it, she saw a framed picture on the wall. She leaned closer to see. It was a beautiful black and white photo of a young woman. Her black hair was pulled back into a tight bun. Allison looked closer and saw that there was something in her eye. She leaned in, intrigued, and squinted in an attempt to see better.

Before she could, a fold of the wallpaper rustled. Distracted, she bowed her head just in time to see a small, pale hand crawl from the shadows. The tiny nails were painted with little white flowers. The wrist was smooth and white. Allison’s eyes widened as she stumbled back, a silent scream carving into her lips. The hand pulled itself up by the fingertips until it covered the framed picture. Hanging on by the last two fingers, it straightened its index finger and shook it slowly, as if to say, Shame on you, Allison. Then it turned and placed its palm perfectly over the woman’s unmoving face. It was still as stone, now.

Her heart gradually slowed down enough that she could rip her eyes from the neatly severed hand. A black spider was busy making a neat little web between the lamp’s cord and the wall. She blinked and watched for a few moments until the spider stopped in the center of its masterpiece. It was then that she noticed the belly of the spider was a big, blue eyeball. She yelped and pressed her back to the wall, looking frantically for a place to go away from these horrors. As if in answer to her prayers, someone spoke.

“What do you think you are doing, silly girl?”

She turned to and fro to find the newcomer. “I was just following the light,” she said softly in her defense.

A shrill giggle burst through her ears. “Hasn’t anyone told you not to, crazy lady?” The voice – young – sighed wistfully. “You don’t follow the light here. It usually means not-good things.” There was a long, strained creak in the wall paired with a sound like someone stretching their back. “So, where you headed?”

Allison furrowed her brow and turned in a circle. Where were all these voices coming from!? “I don’t know, I just got here.”

“Well, shouldn’t you know where you are going? You know where you have been, yes? Do you at least know where you are now?”

She shook her head solemnly.

A banshee’s wail tore down the hall like a tornado’s winds. “You are in Wonder, Violet!”

Once it was quiet again, Allison said in a tiny voice, “M-my name is Allison.”

The voice chuckled. The carpet shivered under her feet. “Of course it is, dear. Now… you are in Wonder, young woman, and you must find the key.” Beside the hand and picture frame, the wallpaper smoothed out and made a perfectly normal wall. A dark black line drew itself in a tall, upside-down U, and then a tiny circle appeared. “You just find the key, and you can go out.”

Allison fidgeted worriedly with the end of her shirt as she looked at the walls. Where would a key be? Maybe it was in one of the cracks under the wallpaper. Oh, but that was where a hand had come from… She shuddered and looked down at the carpet. After searching through the breathing fabric, she sat back on her knees and frowned. “Hey.”

“Yes, Violet?”

She eyed the ceiling angrily, but dismissed it and continued. “Can you give me a hint?”

“Well alright,” the voice sighed. “On this digit, there’s a small ring; the flesh is sweet. In this place, there is a key; made of thin meat.” Following this riddle was the sound of the picture frame falling. She looked and saw the hand shoving itself under the carpet. The picture lay face down, the ejected nail resting on its back.

“What kind of a hint is that?” she cried, staring in fear at the lump in the floor that had just disappeared. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do!”

The voice told her, “Find the key!” before dissolving into hysterical giggles. The walls shivered and shook with seizures of laughter. Where the nail had been holding the frame up, Allison saw a small hole in the wall.

Biting her lip, she stepped forward and peered inside. “Is the key in here?” she whispered, afraid to disturb anything that might be inside.

“Only when you produce the material.”

She frowned deeply and reached up to touch gingerly around the hole. It wasn’t as tiny as she had believed at first. It was actually about the size of a finger. As soon as she thought of the idea, she was itching to go through with it. How far could she reach inside? What would it feel like? Maybe her finger was the key! Maybe this was the lock!

Upon realizing this, she tried to push her finger inside. It wasn’t quite small enough. She tested her ring finger… the knuckle was too wide. Nibbling her lip, a twinkle of eagerness in her eye, she curled all of her hand into a fist except her pinkie finger. She slid it inside, hard-pressed to keep back the grin that spread on her face as it began to fit perfectly.

“Bravo!” the voice roared. It grew much darker as it continued. “You figured it out, The key is made of thin meat.”

Something closed around her finger. She gasped a little and tried to pull her hand away… but it was stuck. A cold chill ran up her spine.

“I hope you don’t write with that hand,” it laughed at her, tapering off into less controlled laughter as a soft whirring began in the wall.

Allison put her ear to the wall, staring at her hand, dumbstruck as something cold and sharp touched her trapped finger. Then there was pain. “Ahhh!” she screamed, but it wasn’t louder than the sound of something grinding at her finger. She writhed in panic against the wall, trying to pull her hand away, trying to stop the hurt. The shuddering blade that she couldn’t see cut into her finger, then moved and started carving closer to where it met her hand. She sobbed and banged her other fist on the wall.

As soon as the pain began, it stopped. She was thrown back from the wall, a spurt of bright red blood bursting from the hole as she withdrew. She collapsed to the ground, gasping for breath, and looked down at her shaking hand. The blood was soaking into her pants, where it rested. The pinkie finger, she saw with horror, was cut into a neat key shape.

“There’s your key, princess!” the hall screamed, laughing maniacally for a long minute as Allison nursed her hand to her chest, shaking with sobs. Then, everything was quiet.

She frowned and looked around, unsure how to call for something that had no name. “Um… hall? Voice? Where did you go?”

From the darkness, there came the cackling of a demon. Allison’s body froze, and the nape of her neck prickled. A deep, gravelly voice spoke. “Use the key, Violet.”

Her eyes turned to the door drawn on the wall. Below the doorknob, a keyhole had appeared. She cried out and looked down at her mutilated finger. “No! I can’t do it!”

A loud hissing came on a strong wind down the hall. It tugged at her hair, trying to rip it from its ponytail, and scratched at her face. A scream came from the distant shadows, and the demon spoke. “Use the key, Violet.”

“No way.” She sniffled and held her hand close, staring into the darkness with wide eyes.

“Use the key, Violet,” it warned, and the scream was closer.

“Why!?”

The scream was as loud as a train horn above her head. “Use the key, Violet!”

Allison screamed and leapt to the door. The wind around her was a roaring tide of sharp air, tearing at her clothes and skin as she knelt before the doorknob. She lifted her hand, crying softly at the sight of her mangled finger, and then slipped it inside the keyhole. Nothing happened. She realized she had to turn it.

Something seemed to latch onto her ponytail and yank back. She screamed again and turned her hand, moaning in pain as her wounded finger twisted. The door suddenly separated from the wall and opened a crack, showing a bright white light on the other side. The screams grew louder around her, and all the voices were yelling at her to stay away from the light.

Gasping for breath, she fell forward and out of the darkness.