The Open Door

by Brian Brahm

  “The Hell it will!” It said from within the pure form. “She’s dead unless you give yourself to me!”

  “Don’t do it, Scott! Don’t listen!”

  A dresser slid violently across the floor, pinning Ella to the wall. “You’re next!” The voice erupting from the precious little girl was grossly in contrast with her appearance.

  From within Abigail, Tall Man turned to Scott. He had his eyes closed and had sat the gun beside him. Ella too closed her eyes to gain focus, and together they prayed.

  Tall Man grabbed Scott’s wrist, and even though he was using a hand half the size of his, the strength was still present. Scott could feel the intense grasp of the tiny hand, but maintained focus.

  In the background, Scott and Ella could hear the room fill with growling. Thoughts of Mustapha’s mutilated body popped into Scott’s head, forcing him to break away from his connection with God. The beasts that ripped Mustapha apart were in the room with them, he was sure of it.

  He felt light again, like in the dream.

  Ella could feel something pressing against her neck. It felt like a cold, wet nose. If the beasts were that tall, they would be able to rip the head off a human in one bite. Ella quickly got that thought out of her mind, tuned out the hell-hounds, kept her eyes shut, and continued praying. It worked before so maybe it would again.

  Terrified, Scott opened his eyes, afraid he would slip away if he didn’t. It was a mistake, because in the room were giant black dogs with glowing red eyes. From ground to shoulder they looked to be five feet tall. Most of them surrounded him, as if awaiting orders from the demon. One of them smelled Ella, probing her neck like it could taste the blood still in her pulsing veins.

  He continued to drift away even though he was alert. The room and all its contents began to fade. He remembered what Ella said, and closed his eyes, squeezing them shut as tightly as he could. He began praying again.

  In the background, he could hear the hounds become increasingly agitated as they thrashed around, gnashing their teeth. He focused as much as he could to shut them out. The only thing audible was the sound of his own voice in his head.

  Time ceased to exist—at least in Scott’s mind. All he knew was that he was becoming exhausted, and it had become nearly impossible to retain focus—to shut out the evil that surrounded him—allowing for only good thoughts. Each time he would drift back in to the room where the demon continued its efforts to enter his body, he could feel the hot breath of Hell’s hounds upon his exposed skin. They were waiting close by his body—ready to pounce should the Tall Man succeed in stealing Scott’s soul and exit his body to leave for the realms he longed for. The very thought of his lifeless body being torn to shreds by the giant beasts was enough to give him the will and focus to resist any temptation to fall out of his place of prayer.

  Another block of time had passed—he could still feel his body—and he was alone within it. He had not heard Ella scream out in pain and horror, so he had hoped she was still OK. His focus must have been superhuman, because he heard nothing and felt nothing: no bloodthirsty hounds, no demon voices, not even the grasp on his wrist. Was it safe to open his eyes—to focus on the room once again? Or was it a trick to bring him out into a moment of weakness?

  A sobbing broke the silence. It was Ella. He opened his eyes. The hounds were gone as was Abigail. “Where is she? Where’s Abbie?” He asked.

  Ella looked to the ground behind the foot of the bed. Scott leaned and saw her tiny hand sticking out. He ran to her, picked her up and held her. Tall Man and the beasts were gone, but so was Abigail. Emotionally drained, they broke down and cried uncontrollably. He placed one hand on the back of her head, the other on the middle of her back, and he pulled her in tight as he cried on her shoulder.

  His eyes were closed and tearing when he felt a hand pat his back. It had to be Ella. He opened his eyes and Ella was still standing on the other side of the room, only now she wasn’t crying. She stared in disbelief and then started laughing. He pulled away from Abigail and looked into her now open eyes. A life radiated from her, and from a faint smile, he knew she would be OK.

  Ella ran over and joined the embrace. They celebrated not only victory, but also life.

  CHAPTER FOURTY-TWO

  In the aftermath, everything was sorted out, and order replaced chaos.

  Abigail regained her memory.

  Scott and Ella took the necessary steps to adopt her. After the adoption was complete, they got married, and their sweet Abigail walked them down the aisle and stood by their side throughout the ceremony.

  In a few months, they moved into a new home where they would be able to start over and build a lifetime of memories.

  When the timing was right, they asked their daughter about the events of that horrible evening. She remembered being frightened. She told them that something ugly was inside her, and that she prayed to God, and asked him to make the scary monster go away. Then she woke up in Scott’s arms, wondering why he was crying. She vaguely remembered playing games with them, and how much she wished they were her parents. And then in the sweetest of voices, she said, “Wishes really do come true.”

  In time, city workers found the body of a tall older man—crouched down in the sewer. He was never claimed, and the city paid to have him buried the cheapest way.

  A year went by, and the Abrahamson’s enjoyed leading a normal and exceptionally happy life together. No strange sightings, no dead animals coming to life, no possession obsessed demons, and no death. The door to evil had been permanently sealed.

  On a night like any other, they all sat to share a dinner prepared by Ella and her little kitchen helper, Abigail. While enjoying the tasty meal and the loving company, the phone rang. Scott decided to let it go, as spending time with his family was most important. The phone rang again, “It’s OK. You can go ahead and answer it. We’ll wait for you,” Ella said.

  Scott picked up the phone, “Hello?”

  “Spookster?” It sounded like, Cody.

  About the author

  Brian Braham was born, Friday, February 13, 1970, in Denver Colorado. He and his wife, Candra, currently reside in northern Colorado with their five beautiful children, and have been happily married for eleven years. “The Open Door” is Brian’s first novel, and he is currently working on his second, which is titled, “Death by Design.” Aside from writing, Brian also plays guitar, composes music, paints and draws, and he’s been studying and competing in martial arts since 1986.

  For more information on Brian Brahm and his upcoming projects, please visit: http://brianbrahm.wordpress.com/