Ray kicked open the front door and sauntered into the house. An air of abandonment loomed conspicuously over the threshold, like a dormant monster left undisturbed for long.
“Far too long” he mused, shining his torch over the dust-ridden floor. He was standing in what appeared to be a small corridor, the walls on either side adorned by thick framed photographs.
“Portraits of the old family” Ray noted, brushing off the dust from the picture closest to him.
He crossed the hallway in four, cautious strides. Passing through the door at the far end,he found himself in a pentagonal room marked by closed doors on all sides. Higher up on the walls were tiny windows, boarded by planks of wood.
Ray sniffed uneasily, and unbuttoned his loose shirt. He had a history of claustrophobia, and the memory of it was little encouragement. He would have liked nothing more than to be able to walk out instantly, but would sooner shoot himself than give in to his weakness. He knew perfectly well what would happen if he backed out-500 dollars, and his reputation was at stake.
“I will do this even if it kills me”, he spoke aloud, trying to inject in his voice a note of conviction that he did not quite feel.
Had he known what lay in store, he would have not have spoken of death so casually.
To be continued...
