The spire

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic

Lonely walk near the house with the spire can lead to unpleasant circumstances...

But in every city there are areas where it is better not to walk after dark comes. That's what many people say, obeying the herd reflex. Igor Yachenkov did not believe these pathetic and ridiculous rumors, walking into the makeshift border of the old part of his city.

He loved the neighborhood, loved it even too much. Igor loved walking in places where there was a kind of history, where every building and structure had its own legend. The old town was perfect for such purposes, and he was very glad to have such a neighborhood in his city. Not everyone was so lucky.

It was a Friday night, everyone was having fun, interesting, and essentially trivial. And Igor was looking at the bas-reliefs of the buildings that surrounded him, making his way to the old town. In each of these bas-reliefs he saw a frozen history that would remain a mystery forever...

It was rainy in the sky. After a moment it rained, but then soon stopped. It had been raining since yesterday….Igor looked up at the sky. One drop hit him in the face.

Igor easily reached the central part of the old city, where there was no one at all. How many interesting and memorable evenings he had spent here! And, unlike the mindset of mass consumption society, he did not associate these words with drinking and girls. He felt insanely good here alone. Many new and interesting thoughts came to him here.

Tomorrow he would begin the banal and boring work week again. The mask for the work day had been ready a long time ago. Today, however, he still wanted to have some rest.

Igor wasn't looking at the ground, but at the sky and the damn beautiful bas-reliefs of the buildings. They shimmered in the rainy moisture, the windows were semicircular on their upper side, like many old houses. Basalt and marl surrounded them, forming walls that were white, gray or red. These walls had stood for a very long time, and would stand even longer after Igor's death.

Igor walked on.

One building in this old city caught his eye madly. Strange that he had not noticed it before. It had stood here since the middle of the last century, judging by the outrageous bas-relief. It depicted a man striving for a goal.  He was staring sternly at one point with a frozen marble gaze. Beside it was another simple bas-relief, which depicted plants climbing upward. Perhaps that was the illustration of this man's life's journey.

Or not.

Suddenly Igor heard heavy thunder. That was bad, because simple rain is one thing, but a thunderstorm is quite another. Igor kept looking at the point he had contemplated during the thunder. That point was at the top of the building. He stood and gazed as if mesmerized at the spire of that building, which seemed to crown him.

The spire.

How had he not observed it before? Igor found this spire very beautiful and unusual. It had either six or eight faces: Igor could not see it exactly. Moreover, he could not tell for sure if the building beneath this spire was inhabited: many of its walls were dirty and shabby. As a matter of fact, he didn't look at the walls much anymore, for it was only this spire that interested him with manic persistence.

Some sixth sense told him that this spire was full of secrets and mysteries. Both the gloomy atmosphere of the building and the absence of people near it confirmed this.

After a while he finally took his eyes off the spire. Everything around seemed very unnatural to him. The clouds became even blacker.

There was thunder again, and right over the spire of the building. Igor had a satanic certainty about it.

Igor shifted his gaze to the completely black clouds.

Those black clouds symbolized the dark course of his life. Igor had a demonic certainty about it.  Igor decided that this was a very good thing: after all, it was better to be in darkness than gray and faceless: Igor had been sure of this since he was a teenager, and nothing could shake this certainty. As his gray life progressed, this conviction only became more and more confirmed. In fact, Igor did not expect anything good from his amoebic existence, to which he was forced by the right society. However, it was on rainy evenings like this that he became himself. Igor had heard from many people that it was very wild and unnatural to walk alone nowadays, because there were so many people in the modern world that everyone would find a mate. But Igor deified lonely walks without thinking that he was wrong. Loneliness is divine...

It was with these thoughts that Igor stood, near a building with old bas-reliefs and a mysterious spire, over which thunder rumbled now and then. Lightning struck him a couple of times.  He looked at it as if mesmerized, and no thunderstorm could frighten him.

As to what happened next, Igor could not be entirely sure. Perhaps,

it was just a pathetic and ridiculous hallucination

The spire of the building came to life. It was an arrow that defied the sky with audacity. It was in it that the fallen souls were imprisoned. The moment Igor looked at them, there was an attempt to leave this cursed confinement, this spire, and to perform their hellishly dark deeds on earth again... No earthly language can describe how much evil these souls had done in their lifetime. Igor felt it, hearing the diabolical cackle of one of the souls who managed to partially escape from this spire. He saw only one of its outstretched vile heads that defies description.

They will always do their dark deeds, for now they are free.

They were taking Igor to their place. Igor noticed that he was no longer standing firmly on the ground: he would fly away with these souls as the first sacrifice, the liberation sacrifice. Igor began to lose consciousness, he knew that the end was predetermined...These abominable souls have ruined so many in their lifetime, and now, when they will be released again, so many living people will have to suffer greatly - all this flashed through Igor's mind...

Reality became blurred...Igor saw  some hallucination:as if Igor noticed that he was walking during the day. Nearby was a certain hill and a favorite planting. On the hill was a certain stone with a carved idol, which our ancestors used to worship the gods. Igor felt a devilish determination to climb that hill. As he took his first step up the hill, the stone began to burn lightning fast. The native gods and Igor's soul burned...All the seasons that Igor could observe here burned.

As if through a veil Igor saw the building with the cursed spire.  It turned sharply black, blacker than the deepest night of the year...No, one point stood out in this building. The bas-relief, which depicted a man staring sternly at one point with a frozen marble gaze, came to life and began to administer justice. In his hand appeared the staff of an old man, into which the plants curled at the top. This staff was ribbed and glittered in his hands, and it was so bright that Igor was blind for a moment.

This old man was a sorcerer.

- No! You will be here, and no thunderstorm will help you vile scum! Do not you dare to show him false lights alive! The stone of the native gods will never burn! And neither will his soul!  - heard Igor  a shout It was like a demonic thunder.

Everything disappeared.

Igor heard the moans that only the creepiest part of the underworld could emit, then he opened his eyes...

The souls condemned to eternal imprisonment in this spire had a thrill before this bas-relief, and they all retreated at once. The awe of the souls that came from the depths of hell...They obediently submitted to this bas-relief that was here, standing guard to ensure that these souls damned in life would forever remain in this spire.

Submitted: September 22, 2022

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