SECTION 7
Onwards, then, to the center. For better or for worse.
In this case, at least, for a while it seems to be for the better. Each step becomes easier, as my legs become lighter and the pattern on the floor less confusing. Now, beyond doubt, the pattern is converging on the door in the middle. Once I reach that door, my troubles should be over.
On the door is an inscription I cannot read. In fact, I can’t even figure out what language it’s in. But the means of opening the door is easy enough to understand. Right in the center is a handhold, carved out of the intricately ornamented wood. All I have to do is reach down and pull the door up.
“All right, then, Derek,” I mumble to myself, “this is it.” A spasm of fear shakes me for a moment, but it settles and I reach for the door. It opens slowly, but it is not heavy. Hinged on its right, the door opens to that side and stands perpendicular to the floor. Once it is open, I peer down through the hole.
For a full minute I see nothing. Then, suddenly, a blackness begins to roil towards me, carrying with it the horrendous stench of rotting and burning flesh. I stagger, and begin to turn away. But something is holding me, something that will not let me go, and against my will I stand rooted to my place. Up, ever up, the blackness roils on, and as it comes, my brain goes dark. As the reek of death carries me beyond consciousness, I fight for one last look into the dark. There, below me, hideous outside the realm of human acceptance, a vision of chaos swims before my eyes. Screaming, I fall inside.
Turn to Section 29.