The Screaming Pit

     Deep in the forest of the Emerald Stone Mountains, there lies a pit.

     Covered under twisting branches and obscured from daylight, the aging stones of an entrance can be found.

     It may seem irrelevant upon first sight, but be wary of wandering there at night, because then the area may not be very kind.

     When the clock strikes three, screams can be heard, travelling up from the gaping mouth. The stones will rattle when touched, and broken promises will suck you in.

     A chorus of foul screams will be the last thing you'll hear upon meeting your untimely end. 

     "What a load of bullshit," Erin groaned, leaning against the stone walls of the ancient castle. Nobody in the group paid her any mind, save for the guide, who frowned in her direction. Something violet flashed in her peripheral vision. The guide went on with his narration.

     "Contrary to what the text says, the pit is now hidden under sacred grounds. This is to prevent evil from entering into our world."

     Erin scoffed and tugged on her hoodie and popped her earphones back in, heavy strings of low tuned guitars flooding her ears. She grabbed her sketchbook and buried herself back into sketching the bold lines of the stone architecture.

     The castle was gorgeous, in a tragic way. Pillars reached high, looking like they could give under the weight of its ceiling at any moment. Cracks decorated the walls from centuries of wear and tear, fresco paintings depicting old beliefs of half human, half animal looking creatures beckoning the viewer unto a fate unknown.

     She slashed graphite lines on the paper, trying to capture the figure of one of the most haunting scenes. A beautiful creature cloaked in black, with hair twisting around her and reaching the floor.

     Her eyes felt intense, as if the very mind behind them could alter other people’s minds and realities.

     The guide’s voice pierced the melody of her music, now speaking about a painting depicting a centaur, going on about the fate and legend that surrounds them. Erin rolled her eyes.

     Sure, she could appreciate the dark and creepy. But once someone started on the subject of the occult, believing it to be a living and breathing thing, she was already kilometres removed, running to a place that understood reason.

     To people who knew such blasphemous things were home to cautionary tales to frighten your kids into behaving.

     She detangled from the group, pocketing her sketches and wandered into the hallways. More vaulted ceilings and creepy paintings.

     Cold air brushed against her face as she moved, the smell of old stone and frosty memories swirling around her. A chill ran down her spine and she hugged her jacket closer to her body. Castles were always so damn cold, but this place put others to shame. The air almost froze more intensely with every step she took.

     She passed a stone bench and caught a flicker of a figure. Her gaze shot towards its origin, where she was merely met with the stone bench - empty.

     The unsettling feeling of someone watching her creeped under her skin. She tried to shake the feeling with a quick inventory of her surroundings. There clearly wasn’t anyone around.

     Growls of the vocalist mingled with the guitar riffs. Music would normally calm her nerves, but now she felt out of tune with her surroundings. She had to take control of her senses. Pulling out one earbud and letting it dangle down her frame, she walked on.

     Save for her footsteps echoing off the stone, she was met with dead silence.

     She popped her head into a nearby dining room and stepped onto the wooden planks lining the floor. She found it deserted, devoid of any living beings. A long and robust table rested in the middle, flooded with food. It was as if it expected a company of famished nobles.

     Erin frowned and crossed the room to find herself in yet another stone cold hallway. This one looked older and she continued her search for another soul. A door decorated the end of the hallway, almost beckoning her. She crept closer, grazing the heavy metal handle and pulling it open with some effort. The hinges groaned.

     Why did people have to make everything so heavy back then?

     She was met with a room that seemed to be some sort of chapel. Dozens of candles burned restlessly in a hexagon shaped room. Windows lined five of the walls and she could see a scene of thick trees illuminated by the chaotic flames. Everything beyond was shrouded in darkness. Rippled glass made the scene look distorted, every movement of foliage warped and twisted like water lapping on the surface of a creek.

     The trees beyond could easily stretch on forever and she would be none the wiser.

     That’s the beauty of darkness. Possibilities suddenly seem endless.

     In the middle of the room - elevated on a thick slab of more aging stone - stood a basin, filled with what Erin assumed was holy water. This was a chapel after all.

     Branches groaned against the glass and wind howled around the chapel, forcing icy hands through cracks creeping through the crumbling walls.

     A glance at her watch told her it was about seven minutes until three. The smallest arm ticked on, unbothered. And for a second she was unsure if it was midday or midnight.

     Day, for sure. She couldn't have been here for more than an hour.

     A slice of violet danced in front of her, disappearing as quickly as it arrived. Erin’s thoughts travelled to the menacing beauty on the wall, long dark hair circling her mind.

     Open it.

     She froze. She could have sworn she heard the words from inside of her head. A voice like liquid fire, softly swirling and crackling every syllable. The distance between her and the basin seemed to shrink, until she hovered right in front of it.

     Distant screams seemed to grow louder and Erin standfastly told herself it was the music, still screeching into her lonely earbud. Her certainty faltered with every second she spent here. 

     When the clock strikes three, screams can be heard, travelling up from the gaping mouth.

     Surely, the guide was fucking with her. He was probably sick of people disregarding his magical stories. But she couldn’t help it. It felt ridiculous to engage in those silly fairy tales.

     Two eyes materialised across the basin, shooting daggers at her. Their violet colour both shocking and familiar to Erin. The figure was cloaked in shadow.

     Open. It.

     The voice was demanding, dripping with venom. Erin swallowed hard.

     This was getting really weird.

     She was about to turn on her heel, determined to leave, when her body moved on its own volition, touching the smooth stone and snaking up to the pool gathered in the middle. For a second, she thought her hands were shaking violently, then she realised it was the stones. Erin's eyes shot to the figure across from her. Teeth flashed in a wicked grin.

     The stones will rattle if you touch them, and broken promises will suck you in.

     Colours of amethyst and violet started lining her vision. She struggled to pull her hand back, but it was too late. Her fingers touched the liquid surface and chaos erupted.

     The whole chapel shook. The water sucked her hand deeper underneath its surface, suddenly stretching out endlessly, bottomless and dark.

     She faintly glimpsed stone walls, encasing the water and she was falling, dropping down into the pit. Fully submerged and descending fast, sinking and choking. Its iciness seemed to penetrate into her very core, paralysing any effort of escape.

     Bone chilling screeches assaulted her ears. The noise crashing into her and overwhelming her senses. Her mouth opened in a soundless scream.

     A chorus of foul screams will be the last thing you'll hear upon meeting your untimely end.

     She crashed into a sea of grass. Light blinded her as she gasped for air, her lungs desperate for that sweet relief. But the air never came.

     Her eyes adjusted and she found herself in a meadow, surrounded by forest. The pit lay beside her, its depths taunting her.

     Maybe it was just a dream. A fevered nightmare conjured up by the tour she had taken in the castle.

     Still gasping for nonexistent oxygen, she scrambled to her feet.

     Someone was approaching. A woman with swishing skirts, looking like she belonged to centuries before and carrying a basket of branches.

     Erin yelled, trying to get her attention. The woman didn't react.

     Clambering closer, she tried to plead for help. Only strangled noises escaped her lips.

     But the woman must have heard something, because she froze, her basket crashing to the floor. She scanned her surroundings feverishly, completely disregarding the place where Erin stood.

     “Oh my,” she said as she gathered up the fallen basket. “I’m afraid I need to lay off the babe’s nighttime stories. It seems my subconscious is gathering paranoia.” She quickly made for a break in the trees, glancing back at the pit warily.

     Erin followed, accompanied only by her endless stream of choked pleas.

     The sight that greeted her as she erupted from the woods, was one of clearly medieval times. The castle stood in its full glory, towering over the bustling streets that reeked of rot and waste.

     Nobody paid her attention. For people rarely pay attention to ghosts.

     A figure emerged from the trees. Her dark hair camouflaged into her black attire. Her violet eyes shined bright and solid.

     Erin screamed helplessly as the figure cast her one last flashing smile.

     Then she left.