Hellhole

Write the crap out of it - Exercise 2 - write a 500 word, fully developed short story, with a theme, a beginning, middle, and end.
Prompt: Access Denied

Hellhole



There’s a low rumble nearby. It’s annoying, like a bee buzzing around my ear. It’s loud, and I need it to stop, but I can't figure out where it’s coming from. I follow the droning to the living room, but it ceases abruptly as I enter, and I find myself unable to breathe.
 
I gasp, struggling to get air into my lungs, panic rising as I try to make sense of the scene before me.
 
It’s as if an explosion went off in the room, leaving a gaping hole where the fireplace should be. Fetid smoke pours from it, and I gag at the putrid scent. A halo of orange green light reflects eerily off cobwebs and dust motes.
 
My pulse races out of control. The rumbling has started again, a low vibration that shakes my body and fills me with dread.
 
I don't want to look into this dank hellhole, but I am compelled. People shuffle slowly up a staircase, climbing towards me.
 
"No!" I scream as they draw close. "You don't belong here. Go back."
 
Ignoring me, they continue their awful climb into my house.
 
The first to emerge is a boy of about twelve. His eyes are wild with... what? Fear? Relief? Scabby pinpricks mark his thin arms, leaking from constant scratching. His pale face and once-white tee shirt a bloody mess.
 
Without acknowledging me, he turns back to the stairwell. With gentle patience, helps the others to step free.
 
In moments, the room is crowded with a dozen children, ranging from late teens to mere toddler. Their cries of hunger and need are fearful.
 
Again, I can't seem to fill my lungs with air. The children have gone still, as if waiting for me to breathe.
 
Where have they come from? Why are they here?
 
The littlest girl pleads for food, her large eyes filled with unimaginable sights and unshed tears. The others are becoming impatient and restless and I am afraid.
 
"We should pray," I decide, and cry out in a loud voice, "In the name of Jesus, I command all evil to depart from this house." There’s a collective sigh of relief, but the oldest boy lets out a horrified moan, throwing himself face first on the floor.
 
"Father God," I summon, rushing to his side as the others surround me. Rolling him over, I place my hand on his head, horrified as his face gyrates, now a young boy, now distorted monster. "Jesus," I call again, "fill this place with your Holy Spirit. Give these children rest and free their souls from evil."
 
A loud roar and a gust of wind shrieks through the room. I cover my ears and squeeze my eyes shut, until the room grows quiet except for the beating of my heart.
 
My body is bathed in sweat and I struggle to breathe. With a final gasp my eyes open, and I find myself alone in my bed, sheets tangled around my legs. My throat is sore from snoring.