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My mind raced as I stood before the door of the mental institution. I couldn't believe I was actually going balls-deep all because of a post on some random horror forum. I took a deep breath, squared my shoulders, and opened the door, surprised by the lack of resistance from it.
I slowly approached the counter. The receptionist’s eyes were sunken, clearly exhausted after a long day of work. I steeled myself and said, "I wish to visit someone who calls himself 'The Holder of the End'." Her face lost all color, an expression of pure childlike terror washing over her features. She took out a key from a drawer and led me down a dimly lit hallway.
As the receptionist walked me down the hallway, I heard the sound of someone talking to themselves in a language I couldn't make heads or tails of, but something about it filled the depths of my soul with a kind of fear I couldn't describe if I even tried.
Suddenly, the talking stopped, and my blood froze in its veins, but then I remembered the instructions. I stopped on the spot and quickly stammered out, "I'm just passing through, I wish to talk." There were a few moments of silence, after which the voice started talking again. I breathed a sigh of relief and continued on, my heart still hammering in my chest.
After what seemed like an eternity, I arrived at a solid metal door. The receptionist fled and left me on my own to face the horror that awaited me. I opened the door and entered a cold, windowless room with only a single man sat hunched in the corner, muttering to himself in that same unknown language.
I closed the distance between myself and the man, steeled myself once more and asked, "What happens when they all come together?"
The man slowly turned around and stared into my eyes, his gaze piercing me like darts. He began to speak, and out of his mouth came excruciatingly detailed, vivid descriptions of horrors I had once thought to be unimaginable; incomprehensible. With every word the man uttered, I could feel my mind teetering on the brink of insanity, but I urged myself to stay focused. The man held an object in his hands, and I wanted so desperately to look at it, but I didn’t dare avert my eyes from his gaze, knowing that to even so much as steal a glance at the object would lead to a gruesome, cruel death of horror unrelenting and thousands of times more painful than I could ever hope to imagine.
Just as I thought my mind was about to break, the man stopped talking, but continued to stare at me with that razor-sharp gaze. Somehow, however, I knew that it was finally safe to turn around. So I did. I turned and ran through the door, and practically sprinted back up that hallway as fast as my legs would take me. I wanted to get out of that horrible place and back to my reality.
The hallway seemed never-ending, but my efforts were soon rewarded by the exit. I ran past the receptionist’s desk, out the door I first entered… and breathed. The fresh air had never tasted so sweet, but even still, I knew that my journey was far from over.
I wasn’t sure whether the horrors that man spoke to me, or his piercing gaze, would ever leave my mind, but there was one thing I knew for certain. That object the man held, the object I didn’t dare to look at, was only one of 538. It was my duty to ensure that they would never come together. Never.