The Room

         The room emanated evil. It didn't smell, it reeked, the evil pouring from the room like a vapourous cloud attempting to take over the rest of the house.
         Tanya had moved into the house a month ago and still never been beyond the door to that room. The house had been perfect for her, small, easy to keep, away from her adulterous husband. She wanted a fresh start, wanted it so badly she was willing to forego the unmistakable feeling of dread she had as she went near to the room.
         Her bedroom was opposite the other room, so though she had to cross the landing by that door to reach her sanctuary, she found a solution in her sneaking skills. Creeping past made her feel like she was unseen by the evil.
         But Tanya knew that she couldn't continue like this. It wasn't just that she could feel the presence but her whole life seemed to revolve around the room. And avoiding it.
         There were a couple of options. The first involved leaving, moving out of the house and forgetting it. But that made her feel like a coward. She felt stupid for wanting to run away from a room she hadn't even looked in. The second, that she would brave-up and enter the room and face whatever was in there.
         The first option was certainly more appealing to Tanya, but not practical. She couldn't just up and move house because of a room. So her mind made up, she knew she had to venture into the room.
         It was just a question of when.
         Not tonight, she thought, knowing that she would need time to work up the courage. At the weekend.
         With that final thought she pushed it from her mind and carried on with her day.
         The weekend drew closer with every passing hour. All Tanya could think about was the room.
         Four days.
         Work followed by a night out with friends.
         Three days.
         A night in. Quiet.
         Two days.
         Making excuses to be out the house.
         One day.
         Unable to function at work.
         Friday night.
         As she stepped into the house that night after work, the evil radiating from the room seemed to have spread to the whole house. She felt unwelcome, threatened in her own home.
         Now. It has to be now. The thought rushed through her brain.
         Without a second thought she pushed the door crashing shut behind, dropped her bag at the base of the stairs and pelted up them. She stopped just short of the door, panting heavily. It stood before her, tall and dark and ominous. It was within reach, the old brass handle tarnished and worn.
         With a deep breath Tanya took hold of the handle. It was cold to the touch. Turning it hesitantly, she felt the latch slide out of the frame and become free. It was open. She felt a gust of air come at her from the room. It wasn't cold, it was musty. Startled she jumped back, knowing that the only window in there was tightly latched shut.
         What was that?
         With her free hand she gently grasped the door once more, shoving it inwards inch by inch until she could see through a tiny slit. The room was dim, cold. Goose bumps rose on her flesh and she involuntarily shivered. Pushing the door a bit farther she slid her hand across the wall until it hit a corner. The light switch. Gingerly she reached with her fingers, felt the switch and pushed it down in a swift movement. Light illuminated dull beige walls and a small window set into the front wall was adorned with a tatty net curtain. There was no carpet. Instead, Tanya found herself looked down on old wooden floorboards, discoloured from their age.
         With another heave of psychological effort, Tanya forced the door fully open until it stood against the far wall. From the doorway she could see the full room. The wooden floorboards were stained and cracked. A poster hung on the far wall, faded and discoloured. In that corner there was an old double wardrobe. It was isolated. Made of a dark oak, it still looked in good condition compared to the rest of the room.
         Feeling a wave of courage knowing she had come so far already, Tanya stepped into the door. Her feet thumped on the floorboards, the sound falling dead in the empty room. Moving to the centre she spun taking in every angle of the room, familiarising herself with the layout, the colours, the smell.
         I did it. That wasn't so bad. She mentally rewarded herself.
         She even managed a small smile.
         Hands on hips she spun once more and decided that she had reached her limit. Now all she had to do was decide what to do with the room.
         Stepping towards the door she decided to go and make her tea and settle down in front of the TV.
         The door slammed shut in front of her with a tremendous thud which shook the frame. With a scream of fight Tanya jumped back into someone. She spun rapidly on her feet coming face to face with a tall man who towered above her. Screeching she lurched backwards, tripping on her feet, falling to the floor with a crash. She felt the rotten wood splinter under her hands, scratching. Looking up she gaped at the giant stood before her. He was dressed from head to toe in black, the material ragged and torn. His hair was black and curly, wild around his head. His wiry beard was straggly, clumps of something embedded within the hairs. There was blood on his arms, coated in his hair, matting it together. Tanya couldn't think straight.
         A man. In the unopened room. A man.
         She saw something glint. Something he held in his huge, monstrous hands.
His eyes shone with malice and the grin said it all as the axe came crashing down.