The Wolves ✓

27; revelations

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Greg flushed the toilet and turned to the sink. Washing his hands, he could hear sounds through the wall. He stopped, thinking it was the water when he realised, it wasn't. The sounds were eerily disturbing and at first, he didn't understand what they were. They sounded painful, like people crying or wailing.

Greg left the bathroom and stopped in front of the study, glancing over his shoulder. He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. The noise was louder now and more clearly defined. He walked around, his body rigid and adrenaline high.

He followed the sounds, too startled by them to think about anything else. To the bookcase, he crept and stood still. The sounds were too loud to ignore now.

Suddenly, it was quiet and Greg could no longer hear the sounds he'd heard before. He sighed and looked at the stained glass window to the other side of the room, lost in his own thoughts and paranoia that he didn't realise what he was leaning over. His hand slipped on the desk that he had been pressing his weight against and stumbled back when he realised he'd knocked over a tower of papers.

"Crap," he said to himself as his back touched the bookshelf behind him. He turned to see a dislodged book, which he then attempted to pull out and reposition on one of the lower shelves but to his surprise, the bookshelf began to shift.

The shelves moved so that an entrance to a secret basement revealed itself. He was astonished and immediately felt the atmosphere change around him as he hesitantly took the first step down.

He finally made his way downstairs, uncertain of what he would find. Emerging from the shadows, he felt his heart stop at the sight of the night creatures, huddled together in a confined cell.

Some of them slobbered and groaned but other than that, there was little movement. He stayed by the wall, staring wide eyed at them. Pushing his hair away from his forehead, he couldn't believe what he was seeing.

Their faces had been mutilated, some of them with open wounds that clearly hadn't healed. They exhibited missing eyes and disfigured limbs as they lay on the floor and each other, like sleeping children.

Greg dragged his eyes away from them and looked at the door opposite him. He could hear noises from behind it, sending a chill through his body.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood as he slowly walked to the door. He felt like he was in a dream, unaware of how his feet were carrying him forward when his body was frozen with fear.

His hand touched the cold metal handle and attempted to open the door. It was locked. He pressed his ear against the door, listening to the soft crying of someone inside. They sounded human to him. His heart pounded in his chest. Why did they sound human?

"Who's in there?" Greg asked in a low voice, afraid to provoke the creatures.
He looked over his shoulder again to make sure they hadn't moved. He was relieved to see they hadn't.

The sounds stopped and Greg frowned, only to hear a man begin to shout.

"He's dead! He's dead!" the stranger cried.

Greg stood on his toes so he could see through the door. Inside, the man crying immediately spotted Greg in the glass.

"Save us, please!" the man yelled at the door.