The Lair of the Beast

Silence, heavy and invasive, enveloped me. Resting against the coldness of a wall, I took what could be my last breath. And listened. The only sound came from the pounding of my heart. Nothing from within the lair of the beast. 

The beast was away. But not far, foraging for sustenance. This was my brief window of opportunity. My quest to recover what was rightfully mine. 

Pausing at the threshold, lurid symbols warned against entry. The fate awaiting any transgressor foolish enough to cross the line was clear. Trembling, I placed my hand on the last barrier and pushed. 

Nothing. I pushed harder. Still, it wouldn't give way. My mind raced, reaching for any excuse to escape this madness. I could retreat, forget this foolishness. Then, as if sensing the weakness of my mind, with a sound like nails drawn down a blackboard, the last barrier opened, inviting me inside to my doom. 

My heart sank. The way inside was now open. I must go on. My fate was sealed. 

Inside, a thick layer of terrifying artefacts covered the floor. Fetid air stung my nostrils as a cruel and deadly smell, a strange mixture from a hundred sources, attacked my senses. I became dizzy, gulping the stale air, trying to steady torn nerves.

I must not, could not, fall into the unspeakable detritus that lay around. If I should, I might never recover. Peering further into the darkness, by just the faintest of light, I could barely see my way forward. Towards my goal. The quest I had set myself.

Careful that my tread did not disturb anything that may betray my visit, I inched closer. Shivering as I did so, averted my eyes from the terrible icons covering the walls. Gruesome things looked down upon me balefully. Screaming eagles, sword wielding demons and other strange and horrible beings glared malevolently. My objective was almost within reach.

Passing close to the deepest lair of the beast, skirting its nest of ravaged bedding, I brushed horribly against the dismembered remains of other poor creatures, now mere discarded playthings. My heart thudded against the constriction of my chest, my breathing becoming harsh as I took the last two steps and froze. A strange hissing sound was emanated from something coiled close to my foot, ready to strike. The heat from its gaping jaws sent cold shivers from my toes to my heart. But it seemed asleep. I dared not awaken it. Taking another deep breath, I stepped over the monster.

Exaltation now swept through me, I had made it! The Desk of Doom lay before me, a covering of dust muting the glint and scatter of discarded treasure. Gold and silver chain, gems and rings sparkled seductively, invitingly. Resolutely I ignored them. To touch even one, invited retribution more awful than can be imagined. I wanted only what was mine, and mine alone.

Then, in sheer horror, I saw the book of revelations. Unlocked, open. My mind told me not to investigate, leave well alone, to retrieve what I needed and leave. But I could not resist. Temptation forced me to look inside and read what was written. My head began to spin, my skin crawled as if desperate to escape my body. I staggered, nearly losing my balance. I could read no more. It was too horrible. I had to leave or lose my mind.

Placing the abomination back into its resting place, as if it might at any moment explode, I retreated from its dusty grave. I had to find my true quest quickly - I could no longer afford any delay. Amongst the scattered plastic and glass containers piled high, some half-open, many with their precious contents scattered and unprotected, I searched. But where was my goal? The object that was mine, and mine alone. 

My eye then caught sight of a familiar design, half hidden beneath all the unspeakable things, and I realised with a grateful sigh that I had found what was lost. Quickly I pocketed the treasure, carefully retracing my footsteps back to the light and to freedom. I had escaped. 

At the moment I turned to leave, a noise that only Hell alone could summon, sucked the breath from my lungs and rendered me helpless. The vengeful owner, the beast of the room, had returned to its lair and stood accusingly before me, fury incarnate. The creature, eyes glaring, nostrils flared in anger, stood poised to attack, blood-red lips drawn back, teeth bared. After a moment as long as a lifetime, it spoke:

'Dad! What have you been doing in my room!'

Staggering back stuttering incoherent ramblings, I tried to placate the beast, but to no avail. I had to face up to my transgression.

'Rescuing my phone power bank', I squeaked manfully, while trying to sidle past as best I could with a grin that church gargoyles would have been proud to wear.

The creature, unimpressed, attacked. I ducked. The whirlwind of fury flew past me, back into her room, slamming the door forever shut. 

The walls of the house again started to move. Reverberating once more to furious teenage thrash metal, giving voice to her anger.

Walking downstairs, thankful to be alive and clutching my ‘lost' electronic power source, I poured myself a strong whiskey. And then another. 

Yes, I had my property. But the memory of the contents of that forbidden book, glimpsed briefly upon her desk, remain. Nightmares torment me to this day. With offspring of the female variety, don't be tempted. Let this be a warning. Leave well alone. Do not enter the teenage lair. And never, ever, be tempted to read the dreadful things that should remain forever hidden within the diary pages of a teenage girl.