The Demons Labyrinth

The Demons’ Labyrinth

Prologue
Amelia and Rory Pond were a happy couple. They met just by talking. Amy’s cooing voice, plus her Scottish accent drew Rory closer and closer. Not to mention Rory’s good looks and Amy with her long, fiery red hair. Now, four years later, newly engaged, new house, new life. The streets of England ringed of new adventures. They had bought the house for a steal. The seller was anxious to sell the house, almost like he’d die if he didn’t. They had just unpacked the last box when the happenings began. The house was nearly 75 years old, but that’s just what Amy loved about it. The old rustic English house with the young couple. The backyard brushed up against the park behind the house, followed by an old cemetery.
On the day they unpacked, Amy was in her new kitchen, putting away dishes. When she was finished, she came back to find cupboards thrashed open, plates and cups moved about. The wind couldn’t have done that, Amy thought. She cleaned up everything, and dismissed it.
A few weeks later, Amy was in her bedroom, organizing her closet when she felt eyes on her. She turned around cautiously, her eyes darting around the room. She looked out into the hallway, and questioned every shadow. She forgot the hallway and darted out of the room.
The sightings got progressively worse. More things moving by themselves. More eyes on her. Amy decided not to tell Rory, afraid what he’ll think of her. Am I crazy? She thought. Have I gone mad? But she least expected what was coming next.
She and Rory were asleep in their bed, when something startled her and woke her up. Her eyes immediately darted towards the terrace french doors, where the sound came from. There, she saw a man. A man wearing a leather jacket and in all black. He had long black hair, and he was pacing back and forth across the terrace, like he was stalking prey. His face ghostly pale, dark under eye circles, angry stare, but not staring out Amy. Like he didn’t even notice her, he paced staring straight ahead. He paced back up again, but this time he paced right through the wall and into their bedroom. He turned to face her, as Amy let out a terrified yelp. Rory sprung up and Amy glanced at him, leaving her eyes from the man and turned back to see he had vanished. Rory asked her what had happened, and looked worried for her. “You look as if you’ve seen a ghost,” he said. A ghost? Amy thought. No. no. no. no. no. I don’t believe in ghosts… That’s when she told him. It came out like a rush, though Rory never broke his attention. When Amy was done telling him about all the happenings, he didn’t look at her funny. He didn’t judge her. He didn’t call her crazy. He believes me. He didn’t say anything. He just hugged her, kissed her on the forehead, and they fell asleep in each other’s arms.
Rory wasn’t sure what to think about Amy’s story. He was a practical and logical person, but he didn’t know if he believed in ghosts. He had never seen one. He certainly didn’t notice anything wrong with the house. But that didn’t matter. All that mattered was that Amy was scared, and she needed comfort. As he washed the last dish and put it in the dishwasher, he heard feet running. Little feet, around the den. And laughter, high pitched like a child’s. He heard the radio turn to a creepy old timy song. He turned around and saw a little boy dressed in turn of the century clothing. He was dancing, legs kicking up and out. “Hello?” he beckoned. “Have you run away from your mum?” The little boy turned to face him, revealing his hollowed out eye sockets, pale white face, and a smile. Rory took a step back, knocking into the counter. The boy let out a laugh, and darted down the hallway. Rory grabbed the nearby baseball bat, and followed. He walked down the dark hallway, checking every door, his heart pounding loud enough for anyone to hear. When he came to the end of the hallway, Rory looked both ways, and spotted the boys black shoes poking out of the closet in the bedroom. He walked carefully closer and closer, arms raised, ready to strike. He finally mustered up the courage, and brought his arms down as hard as he could. At first impact, as if without any pain, the boy burst out of the closet, jumped past a scared- to-death- Rory, and hurdled back up the hallway.
When Amy got back home, Rory told her what had happened. That’s when Amy decided to do some research. She looked up the history of the house, and found what she had feared the most- The house had a long, long history of violence. Previous owners had committed countless murders, and even a history of using black magic. The articles included pictures of the crime scenes, all of the victims faces twisted in terror. All the murders were executed the same way: The victims were injected with a toxin that would kill them slowly, painfully. Then, they seemed to be tortured; their clothes always dirty, like they’ve been running for days. Their faces were all the same- dirty, terrified expressions, like the life had been sucked out of them. All of the victims were recent owners of the house.
She found one story imparticular about an attempt an owner had made to rid the house of its curses. The owners had brought in ghost hunters, and many people they thought could help. They found that no murderers were involved. The house was, infested as the article said, by a demon who fed and lived off people’s fears. He tortured people for his own entertainment. A demon was in their house. The people who tried to rid the house of the demon were killed even worse than the others. Nobody knows what went on in the house the night they died but every inch of the house was covered in their blood, and their mangled bodies were found strewn out and about the house. Amy looked around the room they were in and shivered.
Amy and Rory went door to door asking questions and what their neighbors knew of the house. At first, they were welcomed with warm smiles and greetings. But once they started asking questions, people grew quiet, like they knew they shouldn’t talk. They seemed anxious, scared. No one provided any useful information. Rory and Amy stood at the front door step of Mr. and Mrs. Pemberton. They were a middle aged couple, with two little girls, moved in about 23 years ago. Mrs. Pemberton answered the door and gave Amy and Rory a wide, welcoming grin. They sat on the couch, while the four of them chit- chatted for a while. Then, Rory brought up the house. He asked if they saw or heard anything unusual. All they got was the usual, “No, nothing imparticular.” And an automatic change of the subject. Rory brought it back up again. “Come on. We know you have to know something.” The middle aged couple exchanged frantic glances. Mrs. Pemberton said quietly, “The last people who gave information about the house were murdered.” Mr. Pemberton stopped her before she continued. “That is enough,” he said roughly. He turned to their two girls sitting in the kitchen, “Why don’t you two go do your homework, hm?” From his tone of voice, the kids scattered off down the hallway. “I think you two should go.” He growled. Everyone stood. Mrs. Pemberton glanced at everyone nervously. “We have to tell them.” Her husband looked at her painfully and angrily. “We can’t leave them helpless!” His wife said abruptly. “Why? Why are we helpless what’s going on?” Rory almost shouted. Amy squeezed his arm. Mrs. Pemberton said quickly and franticly, “There’s something in that house- something terrible and murderous. He feeds of fear, and pain.” Mr. Pemberton stood stone still, the vain on his forehead bulging, his hands clamped painfully tight in fists. His wife bit her lip. “What? What is it?” Amy asked franticly. “It’s a demon. I’m sure of it. When the house was vacant, He walked around turning lights on and off, making noises, moving things.” She stopped, about to break down, eyes watery and sobs coming over her. Rory could tell she wasn’t finished, and wanted to get as much information as possible. “Go on, you can tell us. What else has been going on?” He encouraged kindly. “His victim’s spirits now roam the house with him, trying to find their way out of their nightmare they’ve been trapped in for all of eternity!” Mrs. Pemberton was sobbing now. The married couple stood there, eyeing Amy and Rory waiting to see their reaction. “Nobody did anything about it because we knew we’d be murdered too!” More sobbing from the middle aged woman. “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry… No owner has ever gotten out of that house alive. I’m so sorry…” She said over and over.
Rory and Amy just looked at each other. They both saw the fear in each other’s eyes. Rory was about to tell Amy he wanted to move, but Amy bolted back across the street to their house. “Amelia! Stop!” Rory called after her. She burst through their front door and stopped at the staircase, eyeing the corner that turned down the hallway. Rory came up behind her and put his arms around her in an affectionate hug. He whispered in her ear, “We don’t have to do this. You can walk away right now, and forget all this ever happened.” But she replied, “Amelia. You only call me Amelia when you’re worried about me.” “I am worried about you.” Rory replied. “I have to see what’s up there. Who knows what’s up there?” Amy asked with fear in her voice. They then heard a booming voice- muffled, but booming- come from upstairs. Rory turned to Amy, took both her hands and looked her in the eyes and said, “Listen. Whatever happens at least we’re together.” “Together.” Amy agreed. They looked at each other, and Amy darted up the stairs, followed by Rory. When they reached the top of the stairs, they didn’t see the upstairs. They saw a dark hallway, lined with rounded vaults in the ceiling. Much like a movie, they were in a hallway made of metal. Before they could turn around, doors behind them closed, like grocery store doors, coming together and clamping shut. Except these weren’t clear glass. They were thick metal. They were trapped in a corridor that wasn’t there before.
The voice boomed clear, deep and loud, “So, Amy, Rory. Why shouldn’t I kill just kill you now?” Rory and Amy looked at each other once again. They looked around the corridor, trying to find where the voice was coming from. It seemed to be coming from everywhere. “You haven’t answered my question.” The voice warned. Amy said, “Well… Rory, why?” Caught off guard, he stared at his fiancé, and found no other option but to answer. Rory started nervously, but kept a clear voice, “Because, killing us quickly wouldn’t be any fun. And you need fun, don’t you?” Amy stared at Rory with her most frantic eyes. “What are you doing?” she asked harshly under her breath. She stared into his eyes even harder. Then she understood. He’s buying us time, She thought. Rory continued, “That’s what all your victims were for, someone to suffer. I had a P.E. teacher just like you,” Rory glared. Amy glanced at him nervously. Then continued on, “You need to be entertained. And killing us quickly wouldn’t be entertaining.” He said nervously. The voice then said, “So, entertain me. Run.” Without thinking, both Amy and Rory grabbed each other’s hands and darted down the long, dark hallway.
As they ran down the endless hallways, choosing between right and left pathways, the doors in front of them opened when they drew near and closed when they ran farther away. The voice continued as they ran, “So are we having fun yet?” They kept on running. Amy let out a frightened scream as did Rory a “Whoa!” as he grabbed her by the waist to keep her from falling down the deep, sudden drop in the floor. For a moment, Amy was suspended, in mid air, dangling over the long tunnel below her. Rory pulled her back quickly. “Do be careful.” The demon mocked. “Come on.” Amy said as she led Rory around the drop as she side stepped the thin strip of flooring hanging on the side of the drop. Amy hopped to the other side, and grabbed Rory’s hand as he almost lost his footing. They ran even deeper into the Labyrinth.
As they ran, Amy leading, the doors suddenly shut, cutting in between them, trapping them on either side of the door. As the doors shut, Rory cried out, “NOO!” The door closed with a slam and his body slammed into the door. Amy stopped in her tracks and faced the door, and heard Rory scream, “AMY!” Amy cried out, “NO!” and slammed the door hard with her fist. “AMY!” Rory screamed again. He hit the door a few more times, and they both tried separating the doors with their fingers, both to no help. Then, she heard a long moan, close by, “Amy...” It came from the corner that turned down the left of the hallway, behind her. She turned, and heard it again. “Amy…” She started running toward it, around the corner and heard it again. There was Rory, behind the door, as if she’d run in a circle. That’s not possible. She thought. He was sitting on the ground, his hands buried into his face. “Rory,” she called, facing him. He looked up, and stumbled to stand. “Where have you been?” he gasped breathlessly. They ran to each other as Amy explained how she’d come around the corner. “You’ve been hours!” He stutters. Amy gives him a wary look. “No I haven’t.” She replies worriedly. “The house. He’s messing with our heads. Come on.” She grabs his hand and heads back down the hallway. Another door closes in between them. They both scream, “NOO!” and hit their fists on the wall. Amy turns around slowly and heads around the corner once again. When she gets to the end, Rory isn’t there. She looks around more, and hears an old voice say, “Amy?” She turns around to where the voice came from, and see’s an old man, in ratted clothes, with a long, gray beard and shriveled hair. Wrinkles caked his face and he was tucked in one of the vaults in the hallway.
She stared at him and said, “Oh my god. Rory?” In his old, weak voice he says, “You left me. How could you do that? How could you leave me?” She kneels down to him and asks, “How long have you been here?” Rory replied angrily, “72 years I waited for you! Why would you do that? WHY?” He slammed his fist on the wall next to him and banged his head. Amy leaned closer to him, carefully. “I didn’t mean to, I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry.” He lunged at her, his hands reaching for her neck. She repelled backwards, letting out a startled scream. “Rory?! What are you doing?” she yelled, frightened. He stared her in the eyes and said, “They come for me at night. Every single night they come for me and they hurt me.” Amy crawled back slowly as he spoke. “Amy! They hurt me over and over and over and over and over...” His voice trailed off. Amy said, “Rory,” But Rory burst out again, “How could you leave me?!” Amy got to her feet, as so did Rory. Facing Amy, Rory yelled in her face, slapping his chest with his hands, “HOW COULD YOU LEAVE ME?!” as the doors slammed shut between them once more.
Amy turned around once again, afraid of what was to come next. She walked slowly around the corner, and all over the walls she saw spray painted, and even in blood written:

KILL AMY

HATE AMY

DIE AMY

Written again and again, all over the walls. The writing dominated the space. The smell of rotted flesh filled the air. She let out a terrified yelp as her eyes fell on Rory’s rotted, skeletal corpse. “NO!” She howled. Amy broke down and fell to her knees, clutching her stomach. She crawled, sobbing, to her long deceased fiancé. His skeleton even looked angry at her. She sobbed over his corpse, and in between sobs she said, “Rory, I’m so so sorry…” She heard someone walk up behind her and say, “Amy?” She let out a whimper as she turned to face whoever was calling her name. She saw Rory, young Rory standing there, scared. She looked back at the corpse and found everything had disappeared.
She looked all around her, then got to her feet and ran up to Rory for a hug. Rory kissed her on the forehead, they looked in each others’ eyes and Rory assured her, “He’s messing with our heads. Come on. Run.”
They came to a ladder and climbed fifty feet up, and continued running. Amy stopped in her tracks. The lights had gone out. Rory stopped almost immediately after Amy did. “What happened to the lights?” She whispered. Rory looked at her. She had her hands out in front of her and walking like she was in the dark. “The lights are fine.” He said. Then he understood. The lights are out to her, but they’re fine to me. “He’s messing with our heads again.” He says. Amy still has her hands out in front of her, wandering around. “Ok, stay there a second,” He whispers as he walks away slowly, as if he sees something around the corner. “What is it? What?” Amy asks. “Just hang on,” Rory whispers as he turns the corner. “Don’t leave me, I can hardly see you idiot,” She scolds him. Rory lets out a scream as he trips and falls. “Rory?” Amy asks, worried.
“Rory?” She asks again. “It’s Ok.” Rory replies. Amy lets out a sigh of relief. “I’m fine. Come towards my voice.” Rory says. “What happened? Where are ya?” She asks as she wanders in the dark more. “I banged my head, just keep coming. Reach out your hand.” Amy reaches out, and feels something slimy, and with tentacles. She then sees a large pair of glowing yellow eyes as the lights come back on. The thing had a white octopus for a head, and held a large needle in his hand. Amy remembered what the Pembertons said about the toxins injected into the victims. She lets out a loud scream as she backs away. Rory come up from behind her, grabs her arm and says “This way,” as they both eye the creature standing before them. “Come on, run!” He says as the creature follows them.
They run down the hallway and get stuck at the doors as they don’t open. The creature turns down their hallway, and stairs at them, taking slow steps towards their direction. Amy and Rory brace themselves, and as the creature draws close enough to touch, the doors open behind them and they spill into the next room as the door closes shut, trapping the beast behind.
They find themselves back in their den, the night pouring darkness into the house. Except, something was off. They couldn’t tell if it was night or not because their house had no windows or doors. All the windows and doors had vanished. The darkness was coming from the lack of light. Only a single table lamp gave off a yellow glow to the room. No doors. No windows. No way out.
They start searching the house for anything- anything at all- that they could use as their escape. They found nothing. Then, they heard giggling; Little girls giggling. Then one of the little girls that lived across the street came running and sobbing into the den from the kitchen. “Please,” She pleaded, “Help me, my sister, she’s-” The little girl couldn’t finish as a life sized doll of her sister came barging through the den. The thing had a threatening, mean, vicious look. Her hair now scraggly, eyes black as night, and a mean facial expression painted on her unrealistically round wooden face- plus, the old turn of the century peg doll clothing- she looked like an old, scary doll out of a horror movie. She walked like you might think a living doll would- one slow step at a time, arms waving up and down like a robots. Amy and Rory backed away, but the dolls sister remained stone still. Without moving her painted lips, the doll said in a little girls voice, “Don’t run away, I just want to play…”
The doll grabbed her sister roughly and with amazing strength, causing her to scream out in pain. All of the sudden, the living girls hair turned from silky smooth to scraggly string. Her hands turned wooden and her clothes became old- looking. Once she turned around, she had a similar, painted on angry face. Both of the dolls walked toward the couple. They laughed in unison, and said “Don’t you want to play? Don’t run away! Play with us!” Amy screamed as the dolls reached out for her. Rory grabbed the baseball bat from earlier, and batted at the dolls head. Her head spun around completely, five times before she reached up and stopped it with her hands. “You shouldn’t have done that.” They say in unison. Five more dolls arose from the kitchen, all reaching out for Amy. As they all walked slowly towards her they sang their creepy nursery rhyme:

“Tick tock, goes the clock

And what then shall we see?

Tick tock until the day that thou shalt marry me

Tick tock goes the clock

And all the years they fly

Tick tock and all too soon

You and I must die”

The dolls got too close, and Rory’s’ instincts took over, a wave a rage rushing over him. His jaw clenched tight, he swung once again, batting all their heads in a row. They recovered quickly, but not before Rory hit the wall of their house and made a big enough hole for them to climb through. He grabbed Amy by the waist and pulled her out.
They immediately burst out the hole, the cool night air nipping at their necks. Mr. and Mrs. Pemberton sat in their minivan waving their hands frantically for them to hop in. Once inside the car, Amy starts sobbing over her fiancé.
As they drive away Rory asks, “I thought you said no one has ever gotten out of the house alive?” Rory was about to tell them the terrible news about their children when the Pembertons turn towards them, revealing their yellow eyes with a grin and say in perfect harmony, “They never do.” Mr. Pemberton swung the car around, and headed towards the house. Rory and Amy scream as Rory shoves the car door open and flings him and Amy out of the car, just in time. The minivan plummets towards their haunted house and Amy and Rory watch as the house explodes on impact. They watched as all the spirits lifted from the house, followed by the largest one, tinted in red, his face twisted in a horrible snarl, the demon that had possessed the house. All of the spirits sprang across the park, into the cemetery, and settled in their graves. The demon, having no one to feed off of, let out a terrible shriek, and burst into flames as it fell to the ground.
The couple held each other, sobbing as Rory took Amy’s head in his hands and says warily, “We tricked them. They are all at peace now, do you understand?” Amy nods and buries her face in his chest. Rory kisses her head.

ONE YEAR LATER
After Amy found out she was pregnant, her and Rory moved out of their apartment and found a new house. She and Rory hadn’t told anybody about their experience. Though she couldn’t shake the events that had took place at the old house. She continued her research about the house, and Rory became cross with her whenever she did. As she walked downstairs, she tried her best to conceal her research papers in her hand. Rory looked up at her brightly and said, “Good morning, love.”
“Good morning,” She replied just as brightly. She gave him a hug and a kiss and took their baby girl named Melody Pond from his arms to hers. The baby cooed at the sight of her mother, giggling happily. Rory noticed what she was holding and said, “What’s this?” He grabbed for the research papers. Amy quickly snatched them away, nearly disturbing the baby, saying abruptly, “Nothing.” But Amy’s disadvantage with the baby proved fatal as Rory took them from her, and looked at her with that disproving stare he had. Amy stared at him nervously. “You have to stop this,” He says to her. “I can’t,” Amy sighs. “How has this gone on for so long? How did we get out? I have so many questions…” Rory looked through her papers, and Amy pointed one out that claimed that once spirits go back to their dead bodies, just as the spirits from the house went back to their bodies in their graves, if they built up enough energy, they could burst out of their graves and walk the earth once more. Though not many did this; as it required so much energy it was almost impossible. “They’re saying they could turn into zombies,” Rory smirked. “You can’t believe this stuff Amy, it’s rubbish.” He threw the papers in the nearby trashcan. Amy shifted her weight onto her other foot, a sign she was anxious or stressed. “But it’s been a year,” Amy argued, “Plenty of time for them to build up enough energy! And that house had a lot of negative energy.” The baby fussed as her parents raised their voices. Rory took her by the shoulders and said gently, “More like too much time,” he then kissed both his wife and his daughter on the forehead and walked into the kitchen. As his back was turned, she quickly grabbed her research out of the trash and briskly walked up the stairs. She settled Melody in her crib and looked over her research for the thousandth time. It could happen… She thought. It has been a year…