Ooooh we fked up. So Rosalind came back to my place and had a shower. Afterwards we chatted for a bit before she eventually asked… what was behind the bed sheet in the corner of my room? I pulled it aside and showed her.
She. Flipped. Out. Y’know that stairway to hell the cultists have been trying to summon? Well, here it is.
“WHAT THE FK?!”
“Is this bad?”
“THIS WHOLE TIME?!”
“Well, a few days anyway.”
“Do you have any idea what’s down there?! That is a direct opening to the gates of hell! All the worst parts of HP Lovecraft and Clive Barker combined. Why’re you even alive?!”
“That seems more of philosophical question…”
She grabbed me by my shirt collar and stared straight into my eyes. “I am dead serious. Just an open door in your bedroom to the harbingers of everlasting torment. A cage for creatures too foul to desecrate the Earth with their malevolence. The Labyrinth to the nine circles of Hell!”
“OK! OK! That obviously does not sound good.”
She released me and tentatively peeked down the stairway. “How is this even possible? How did it end up here of all places? And the stairs. Only Virgil could have done this.” She gasped. “You’re Virgil?!”
I laughed. “Ha. I am definitely not Virgil.”
“You’re Virgil!” she asserted.
“I swear I’m not! I don’t know anything about this!”
“It’s the only explainati…” she paused. There was a rustling coming from the cupboard under my sink. Rosalind grabbed an empty wine bottle from the coffee table and brandished it as a club. She positioned herself between me and the cupboard. “Stay back,” she commanded me and began inching towards the cupboard. She slowly put her hand on the handle, raised the bottle above her head, then swiftly flung open the door!
Gomez blinked up at her from the lower shelf.
I held my chest and sighed in relief. “Phew, it’s only Gomez.” Rosalind lowered her club. She looked puzzled.
“Gomez?” She knelt down to have a closer look.
I explained it grew from a sapling I rescued from the hole. Rosalind pinched her temple in frustration.
“All this time,” she repeated. “Virgil has been sitting in a coffee mug under your sink.”
“Ohhhhh, *that’s* Virgil!” I knelt beside Rosalind and spoke to the eye plant. “I’m sorry, Virgil. I’ve been calling you Gomez this whole time. What are your pronouns?”
“I’m pretty sure he can’t speak,” she said. Virgil nodded in agreement. “Looks like he couldn’t grow fully formed after getting plucked. Oh shit. Dante’s gonna be pissed.” She stood up and turned back towards the doorway. “He’s gonna be so pissed. We have to seal it. Or he’ll have your blood.”
“Hey, wait a minute!” I protested. “This wasn’t my fault!”
“You have no idea what you have gotten yourself in to. Dante might be a shit cultist but he isn’t playing games. How much clearer do I have to spell it out. This is a doorway to Hell! A conduit to every horror ever imagined and a limitless font of forbidden knowledge and heresy. In *your* bedroom. And you’ve reduced our only guide through it to an eye stalk!”
“Fine! What do we have to do?”
“I have to go back to camp.” She began collecting her things. “With any luck I can find the ritual to seal it in our community library. And that we can perform it with just two people. Otherwise, we’re gonna need reinforcements. Lock the door behind me and keep Virgil away from that doorway. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Don’t answer the door to anyone else.”
She’s been gone for hours now. I’ve moved Virgil to my bedside table on the opposite side of the room. He keeps looking between me and the doorway, as if asking me “What am I waiting for?”
We all know about roses and lilies but did you know about hooker’s lips and devil’s hand?
Here is a poem to know about these charming flowers and their weird names. (Warning : don’t stare for too long at the hooker’s lips, else you might feel kissing it)
