#33 Pinhead
Chad stared at the screen, as he had stared so many times in the past. He slid the fourth symbol from the right two places, stared longer, then clicked to save the image. The square image filled the screen – once he had saved it, he closed the foreground image and the screen expanded to show six separate images. He dropped down the edit menu, and clicked RUN.
The squares rearranged themselves slowly, sliding across the screen and becoming a rotating, 3D image of a cube. The new image fit in with the others, but so had all his previous attempts. The code was complex, and there were almost infinite variations. No matter how he arranged them, he couldn’t get it right. Something was missing – or maybe the virtual nature of his imagery, the fact it was a computer simulation and not reality, was the problem. No doors to other dimensions opened, no matter how me manipulated the key.
He’d poured over the movies and the books. He knew no one could have described such a thing without experiencing it. When Barker wrote of the Cenobites, they lived and breathed. Their pain was too intense to be fiction. The mythos was too complete to be drawn from whole cloth. There were other books on Chad’s shelves – books he believed had been used to research the stories. Some of them were old, and a few he was pretty certain there couldn’t be more than two copies of. One rested on Clive Barker’s shelves, and the other on his own.
Still – he couldn’t find the key. He had to know – and he’d felt the presence of the door, so he knew there had to be a way.
He growled in frustration and shut down the program. As he pushed away from the desk, the screen opened again. He stared. clicked the X that should have closed it once again – the screen grew brighter. The cube spun faster.
One side of the image dipped forward, grew very dark…a face appeared…words flashed across the screen too quickly for him to make them out.
He was smiling when the silver chains burst through the monitor screen and the hooks dug deep…dragging him home.
Written by David Wilson - Visit WebsiteFollow me on Twitter
