The road back seemed longer, the desert more foreboding. Kayla’s thoughts churned with unease, the afterimages of Dante’s Entrance lingering like shadows at the edge of her vision. Meredith, on the other hand, was animated, her energy seemingly boundless as she recounted each detail, already drafting her next blog post in her mind.
As night fell, the desert transformed. The stars emerged, casting a cold, indifferent light over the landscape. Meredith’s chatter faded as she too began to sense the change, the eerie quiet of the desert night seeping into the car.
Back at their motel, Kayla’s unease blossomed into insomnia. She tossed and turned, her dreams filled with staircases leading down into the abyss and pyramids casting long, dark shadows. She woke to the sound of her own heart racing, the room feeling smaller, more oppressive.
Meredith, surprisingly, was quiet the next morning. The usual sparkle in her eye had dimmed, replaced by a distant, thoughtful gaze. “Did you feel it, Kay?” she asked, her voice low. “Like we left something behind?”
Kayla nodded, her throat tight. The words she had been afraid to voice now hung in the air between them, a shared acknowledgment of their unsettling experience.
Determined to shake off the feeling, they decided to research Dante’s Entrance. Their search led them down a rabbit hole of local legends and obscure references to energy vortices and paranormal activities in the desert. The most chilling discovery, however, was an old news article about the original owner of the land, a reclusive figure with rumored ties to occult practices.
The pieces began to fit together, forming a picture that was as fascinating as it was horrifying. The site, it seemed, was more than just a tourist attraction; it was a focal point for something ancient and arcane, a place where the boundaries between worlds were thin.
That night, as they sat in a local diner, the air felt heavy with unspoken fears. The waitress, a middle-aged woman with kind eyes, noticed their subdued demeanor. “You two look like you’ve seen a ghost,” she joked, refilling their coffee.
Meredith forced a smile. “Just a weird place we visited. Dante’s Entrance, ever heard of it?”
The waitress’s smile faltered, her hand trembling slightly as she set down the coffee pot. “That place… it’s best left alone. Bad things happen to those who meddle with forces they don’t understand.”
Her words, meant as a warning, only fueled their curiosity and fear. As they drove back to the motel, the desert seemed alive with whispers, the wind carrying echoes of secrets long buried in the sand.
In her room, Kayla lay awake, the darkness feeling alive, pulsating with a rhythm that matched her racing heart. The line between dream and reality blurred as she heard the distant sound of a staircase creaking, as if someone, or something, was climbing down into Hell, step by ominous step.
Not. The. End.
MADD FICTIONAL 