In 2006 I ventured into an old abandoned libary, being an urban explorer I wanted to see first hand the haunting tales of what occured inside one's of occultism, satanic rituals and the paranormal.
I don't remember much of the trip but I can recall I heard a scream that sounded very familiar.
The year is 2016 and I have decided to return. This place so beautiful on my first visit now appears like the tales I was told those years ago. I open the main door now screeching due to the rust that covered the metal.
I make my way through a darkened hall, dimmly lit bulbs blinking providing the limited light. Bleak and the sudden pungent smell of decay, the brick walls once filled with warmth are now wet and cold.
Something is here.
The overbearing smell of rot and death lingers in the already thin air. Gulping....I stop....then proceed forwards. I feel the warmth of a stagnant breath on my back and turn a quick 90 degrees.
Nothing
Turning back to the direction I was originally heading, goosebumps adorn my being. Shaking and saying to myself. GET THE **** OUT GET THE **** OUT GET. THE. ****. OUT... I ignore my better judgement, I'm here to stay.
So I press on determined. I hear the buzzing of flies and I know I'm at the epicentre of the stench.
Bookshelves thrown askew, pentagrams and other ****** graffiti adorn the walls. I look around the room and then I see it...
A foot, I glide over to the foot and proceed from the blooded body stabbed in several places multiple times from the torso all the way to the face.
I stop...frozen in shock
I gasp...
It's not just any face
**It is mine.