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Foreword: Edit

Hello, my name is Vince. This is the second creepypasta I've ever written. But I felt it turned out pretty well. So I wanted to post it here. Don't get me wrong, I have written lots of things in the past. Just not creepypastas. So I don't think I'll fall into the common pitfalls and rookie mistakes. I'm just new to writing the genre. But I've read probably hundreds of them, so I feel this is the proper step to take now.

The Divine Tragedy by Vince "Thumblesteen" Smith Edit

It was so very dark. He couldn't see a thing. But he had been called to this place for so many years. Today was the day of the final omen. When the calling would end.

Ever since birth, he had been beckoned. The beckoning was subtle, an existential aroma of small hints. Sometimes his GPS would malfunction, and always indicate the same faulty destination. Other times, the small segment of map marking this location would appear in the strangest places. Drawn in the vales of rain through the long shadows cast across the floor during a rainy night. The address whispered in the wind, as he passed through a quiet place on an autumn eve.

The world itself called him, and he had finally understood.

It was on a cold December eve that he finally began his gambit. Upon his arrival, he stood before what appeared to be an abandoned house. It was not ornate in the typical fashion of sinister places. It had no climbing roots clinging to the stone walls. It had no gargoyles squatting atop a large stone wall. It's walls did not frame long windows with shadowy figures staring down upon any unfortunate visitors.

No, such a simplistic atmosphere is marred to the true uncanny semblance of this domicile.

For this place, this unnatural plot, was immaculate. The grass was trimmed. The paint was fresh. The gutters were clean. The windows were shined, and the front yard was tidy. This small house was like something from a painting. It held an unreal tidiness to it. The very hallmark of human presence. Yet, with chilling implication, there were no humans to behold.

Animals were repulsed from this site. Not even the smallest of animalcule dared roost in the home's many materials. This place was abandoned. Not just by humanity. But by the world itself. He called out, unaware of this fact. To receive the silence of the grave itself, as his only response.

He walked past the untattered white picket fence. His feet forming footsteps on the freshly trimmed grass. As the December frost crunched under his boots. He approached the door. As he knocked on it twice. His efforts to do so provided no climax, as the moment his knuckles crashed against the hollow wood; No sound would emerge!

At this point, he was nervous. As one would be when a door defied the universe itself. But alas, he wanted closure. As he gathered composure, he reached for the doorknob, and attempted to open the door.

It was locked. He felt helpless at this point, and considered breaking in. But just as he turned away from the door; It swung open with furious speed, as a great and unnatural howling could be heard from within the home. A powerful gale passed from the outside, into the home, as he found himself swallowed by the frame. Falling into the interior of the home. With a crash, he landed on his back. Seemingly unscathed.

As he recovered from this, he saw the door before him. The howling and the wind had stopped. As the door slowly shut. Along with it, it shut out the light as well. But as fortune would have it, he was a resourceful fellow. From his pocket, he produced a lighter. The lighter formed a sphere of vision around him. Letting him see the hallway he stood in. In the hallway were three doors. All facing different directions, in the fashion of a t-junction at the end of the hallway.

He proceeded to open the right one. It was pitch black within it. Not even his lighter could shine on the floor. He carefully stepped forward, only to loose his balance. He quickly grasped the door frame. As he saw an old vase resting atop a small cabinet near the once howling door. He picked it up, and dropped it down the chasm that was revealed before him behind the right door.

The vase fell, and it fell, and the awaited sound of it's shattering remained unheard. The room behind the right door was a void. Had he stepped in it, he would have been falling endlessly. Throughout time. Trapped in a limbo void of all stimulation. As his mind would've slowly grown demented. An eternity of silent darkness. This, was the downfall of the philosopher.

He had now begun to understand how this dwelling was no natural place. That it had no consistency resembling that of Earthly places.

Next door to the left of the right door was the middle door. But he was not as foolish as to open it right away. Instead he turned back, and tried to open the once howling door from which he came. The door refused to open. At this point, he helplessly turned back.

He moved to the middle door once more. As he opened it. Inside was a cramp space. Made out of concrete. Barely large enough to fit a person. It could not be measured larger than that of a coffin. Suddenly, behind him, a loud roar could be heard. It made the floor vibrate, and he could feel winds smelling of death surround him, as the great beast behind him screamed with unfettered might.

He shut the door, and turned around to press the lighter at the source of the horrid sound. The light revealed nothing. As silence came once more. He looked at the door behind him, as he tried to open it once more. It refused to open, break, or move. It was perpetually sealed. For this, was it's design. Had he been scared of the roar, and not faced it. Had he hid in the middle door, then the door would shut forever. Trapping him in all of eternity in the small stone enclosure. As he would have to spend all of time forever constricted in his sealed quarters. For this, was the downfall of the coward.

The door on the left was now all that remained. But he looked upon it and refused to open it. Knowing what the other doors had produced. Instead he began searching the small hallway for anything else that may lead him out of this alien place. Such was his fortunes, as the door on the left would have looked like a paradise. It would've revealed food, women, drink and all which man could wish for. An endless library, a great world of adventure and joy. A playground for every hedonistic pleasure known to man. But after one year of endless joy, it would all turn to ashes. Encasing him in an ash-clad tomb for his undulating fate. For this, was the downfall of the idiot.

As he lit up the area around him, he found a rug. It was a typical Persian design, with it's gilded brown colour. He hesitated not to pull it away. Revealing a trap door. Carefully he stepped inside it. As his lighter began to flicker. It had little fuel remaining. But he looked around. Suddenly, before him, stood a strange figure. A horrifying creature spanning seven feet in height. Wearing a butcher's apron blackened with rot and dried blood. Great rusty sabatons that that crashed with every footstep. His head was covered by a brown burlap sack. As his gloved leather hand held a rusty bone saw.

The towering monster uttered a phrase in his strange guttural voice:

"You were a stillborn. You never knew what life was. As such, you've been a bewildered spirit, roaming these mortal planes. Ignoring our calls. But today you have been united with the afterlife. Today my purpose begins."

The immortal butcher grabbed him with his bear-sized arm, and pulled him away further into the darkness. His lighter died, as he helplessly kicked and screamed. Then, he was fastened on to a table. As his painful and deafening screams of terror echoed through the darkness for all of eternity.

For this, was the downfall of the happy ending.

- Written by Vince "Thumblesteen" Smith.

© I'm an anarchist so copyright is stupid in my opinion.

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