Urban Horror : Doors Short Story by Richard GK Stark, Page 4
Richard GK Stark
the stomach. Very quickly other inmates were also hitting him, round the head, and kicking him in the ribs. Josh tried to defend himself as best he could by curling up into a ball but it was no use, there were too many of them. This was one of Josh’s worst fears come true, to be in a situation over which he had absolutely no control. To be left in a room with exactly the kind of people he had always so cleverly humiliated in the courts. He also hated violence, having been regularly beaten up by his elder brother (who was now a bricklayer) as a kid.
He began to whine, which just spurred the inmates on even more. He thought he was going to die when he heard a lot of noise and scuffling, as one by one the inmates were pulled off him by four Prison Guards brandishing riot sticks.
“Mugsy, I could have guessed you’d be at the heart of this. But who’s this?”
“Don’t know Sir.” Said Mugsy.
“One of your accomplices no doubt. Take him away. He must have broken in during visiting hours.” Said one of the Prison Guards, as the other grabbed Josh and dragged him to his feet.
“You’re in deep trouble my friend. It’s just as much an offence to break into a prison as to break out of one.” Said the guard.
“You don’t understand, it’s all been a terrible mistake. I shouldn’t be here.” Pleaded Josh.
“No you shouldn’t.” Smirked the Guard. “Take him away to Solitary, and Mugsy with him. And the rest of you” He said turning to the other inmates “one more noise and we’ll declare an emergency and make you all wish you weren’t born.”
Josh was dragged, sobbing, by two prison guards out of the common room, across a courtyard and into another part of the building. “You’ll be for it tomorrow morning. The Commissioner has had enough of people breaking in, supplying drugs etc…” Said one of the guards tauntingly to Josh.
Josh was in immense pain but didn’t want any of these sadistic bastards to know it. They took him down a corridor where there were a number of doors, each leading to a solitary cell, opened one of them and threw him in. As he was thrown into the cell Josh concentrated on his living room, but it didn’t work, he still ended up on the cold, hard concrete of the cell floor as the guards shut the door behind him.
“Sleep tight.” Said one of the guards sarcastically, as he locked the door.
Josh lay on the floor sobbing for about ten minutes, then tried to compose himself and work out what had happened. The last thing he remembered was leaving the pub, but he hadn’t been thinking of prison. He played the scenario over a few times until he remembered that a prison had been shown on the TV just before he left. But he was thinking of his mates when he left. Then he realised that it was the other guys in the pub who had been shouting that the accused should be locked up.
He didn’t have complete control of where he ended up, as other people’s thoughts could influence what happened. That was a very disturbing realisation. Josh tried his best to sleep on the ice cold concrete floor, not knowing what the morrow would bring.
Early the next morning he heard the cell door being unlocked as two guards ordered him to get up, for the commissioner wanted to see him. As they led him out and along the corridor Josh noticed the toilets. “Can I go to the toilet first?” He said.
The prison guards looked at each other and one said “I guess so. Go with him Terry, to make sure he doesn’t get up to something.”
One of the guards led him into the toilet where Josh said, pointing at one of the cubicles “I need to do a long call.” At this the guard let go of him and waited by the entrance to the toilet. As Josh opened the cubicle door he mustered all his powers of concentration and focussed on his living room, finding himself there after walking through the cubicle door.
“Thank God!” Said Josh, collapsing on the sofa.
He had never been so relieved to be back in his own flat, and once he knew he was safe fell asleep very quickly. He wasn’t sure for how long he was asleep but it was dark when he finally awoke. He got up to go to the bathroom but hesitated in front of the door. The last thing he needed was to suddenly find himself God knows where. He stared at the door then gradually mustered up the courage to slowly pull down the handle and push the door open, being careful not to step through it. To his relief he could see the bathroom on the other side, and slowly began to edge his foot forward into the room, focussing his gaze on the shower cubicle. He crossed over the threshold of the doorway, fearing the worst, but was so relieved to find he’d reached the cubicle without incident. He took a shower and put on a dressing gown, then repeated the same moves whilst entering the kitchen for the first time. Without any external influences he seemed to have no problems walking through the doors in his flat. He decided to jam the doors open so he could move more freely from one room to another. He was too scared to leave his flat, watch TV or even answer the phone - anything which might distract his thinking.
For two days he lay curled up on the sofa, only moving when he needed to. It was now Monday evening and he had missed another day of work, as well as running out of food supplies in the kitchen. Tomorrow he would have to venture out. During this time he had had plenty of time to think about what was happening, and why, when it suddenly dawned on him. This had all only started after he left his former employment. What was the last thing his former boss had said to him? “If you walk out that door now…” He’d been cursed. He realised the only way to lift the curse was to get his former boss to forgive him.
The following morning he got ready and braced himself before venturing out of the house, concentrating on his former boss’s office which he duly appeared in, only to find it was empty. A few moments later his boss’s PA walked into the room, but before she could challenge him he asked her “Is Nigel in today?”
“Um. Oh! No. He’s in Court today. If you wish I can make an appointment…”
“No. That’s ok. Do you know which court?” Josh said hastily.
“I think it’s the Crown Court, no. 2. Are you alright?” Said the PA, not sure whether she should have given Josh that information.
“Uhh, yes I’m fine. Thank you. Could you leave the door open? Thank you.” Said Josh as he hurried out of the room. He knew his way around this building but would have to travel to the courts, so he decided to hail a Taxi as that would be quicker, and within seconds one had pulled over. Josh hesitated before getting into the Taxi.
“Excuse me, could you open the door for me please?” He said to the driver.
“What?” Said the driver.
“Sorry, could you open the door for me please?”
“To do that I’ll have to get out of the car. Can’t you do it?”
“No, sorry. I’ve injured my arm.” Said Josh, holding his right arm up.
At this the driver cussed, got out of the car and begrudgingly opened the door for him.
It was a good fifteen minutes through heavy traffic to get to the courts, but once there the driver again, begrudgingly, opened the door for him. Josh rushed up the marble steps to the entrance of the court, and in his haste had gone through the double doors just as two young women were also entering, one of them describing to the other her holiday in the Caribbean.
Josh rushed through the door and straight into the sea. He just managed to avoid falling forwards as the water swelled around his feet and knees. He looked round to see he was on a beach with lightly coloured sand shimmering in the near overhead sunlight. There were several people in swimwear lying on the beach soaking up the rays, who each in turn looked up and smirked at him. They all found it hilarious to see a man in a pin-striped suit with trousers sodden up to his knees, picking up sand as he struggled to make his way off the beach in black shoes that disappeared into the sand on every step – all except Josh that is. He made his way towards a Beach Hut where there were some people sitting by a bar, and asked the barman where the toilet was.
“You’re a bit over
dressed aren’t you?” Said the barman, to the smiles of his customers, but Josh was in no mood for banter.
“Could you just tell me where the toilet is?” He barked.
“Alright.” Said the barman. “Just round here to the left.”
Without saying thank you or anything Josh rushed round to the toilet to find the door was locked, with what looked like a coin meter above the handle.
“One Peso.” Read the sign above the meter.
“I don’t have any Pesos on me!” Cried Josh. He looked around in a panic and ended up back at the bar where he noticed a bowl with some coins in it, so he grabbed a handful and rushed back to the toilet.
“Did you see that?” Said one of the customers to the barman. “He’s just taken some money out of your tips bowl.”
“What. Can you watch the bar for me please?” The barman made his way round to confront Josh, who was at the toilet door clumsily trying out different coins to see if one fitted the meter’s slot.
“Wait a minute Mister! You don’t just take the money like that!” The barman shouted at Josh, but before he reached him one of the coins fell into the slot and Josh rushed through the door, finding himself once more outside the main entrance to the courthouse.
He caught his breath on the steps for a moment, then decided to wait until there was no one else around before
He began to whine, which just spurred the inmates on even more. He thought he was going to die when he heard a lot of noise and scuffling, as one by one the inmates were pulled off him by four Prison Guards brandishing riot sticks.
“Mugsy, I could have guessed you’d be at the heart of this. But who’s this?”
“Don’t know Sir.” Said Mugsy.
“One of your accomplices no doubt. Take him away. He must have broken in during visiting hours.” Said one of the Prison Guards, as the other grabbed Josh and dragged him to his feet.
“You’re in deep trouble my friend. It’s just as much an offence to break into a prison as to break out of one.” Said the guard.
“You don’t understand, it’s all been a terrible mistake. I shouldn’t be here.” Pleaded Josh.
“No you shouldn’t.” Smirked the Guard. “Take him away to Solitary, and Mugsy with him. And the rest of you” He said turning to the other inmates “one more noise and we’ll declare an emergency and make you all wish you weren’t born.”
Josh was dragged, sobbing, by two prison guards out of the common room, across a courtyard and into another part of the building. “You’ll be for it tomorrow morning. The Commissioner has had enough of people breaking in, supplying drugs etc…” Said one of the guards tauntingly to Josh.
Josh was in immense pain but didn’t want any of these sadistic bastards to know it. They took him down a corridor where there were a number of doors, each leading to a solitary cell, opened one of them and threw him in. As he was thrown into the cell Josh concentrated on his living room, but it didn’t work, he still ended up on the cold, hard concrete of the cell floor as the guards shut the door behind him.
“Sleep tight.” Said one of the guards sarcastically, as he locked the door.
Josh lay on the floor sobbing for about ten minutes, then tried to compose himself and work out what had happened. The last thing he remembered was leaving the pub, but he hadn’t been thinking of prison. He played the scenario over a few times until he remembered that a prison had been shown on the TV just before he left. But he was thinking of his mates when he left. Then he realised that it was the other guys in the pub who had been shouting that the accused should be locked up.
He didn’t have complete control of where he ended up, as other people’s thoughts could influence what happened. That was a very disturbing realisation. Josh tried his best to sleep on the ice cold concrete floor, not knowing what the morrow would bring.
Early the next morning he heard the cell door being unlocked as two guards ordered him to get up, for the commissioner wanted to see him. As they led him out and along the corridor Josh noticed the toilets. “Can I go to the toilet first?” He said.
The prison guards looked at each other and one said “I guess so. Go with him Terry, to make sure he doesn’t get up to something.”
One of the guards led him into the toilet where Josh said, pointing at one of the cubicles “I need to do a long call.” At this the guard let go of him and waited by the entrance to the toilet. As Josh opened the cubicle door he mustered all his powers of concentration and focussed on his living room, finding himself there after walking through the cubicle door.
“Thank God!” Said Josh, collapsing on the sofa.
He had never been so relieved to be back in his own flat, and once he knew he was safe fell asleep very quickly. He wasn’t sure for how long he was asleep but it was dark when he finally awoke. He got up to go to the bathroom but hesitated in front of the door. The last thing he needed was to suddenly find himself God knows where. He stared at the door then gradually mustered up the courage to slowly pull down the handle and push the door open, being careful not to step through it. To his relief he could see the bathroom on the other side, and slowly began to edge his foot forward into the room, focussing his gaze on the shower cubicle. He crossed over the threshold of the doorway, fearing the worst, but was so relieved to find he’d reached the cubicle without incident. He took a shower and put on a dressing gown, then repeated the same moves whilst entering the kitchen for the first time. Without any external influences he seemed to have no problems walking through the doors in his flat. He decided to jam the doors open so he could move more freely from one room to another. He was too scared to leave his flat, watch TV or even answer the phone - anything which might distract his thinking.
For two days he lay curled up on the sofa, only moving when he needed to. It was now Monday evening and he had missed another day of work, as well as running out of food supplies in the kitchen. Tomorrow he would have to venture out. During this time he had had plenty of time to think about what was happening, and why, when it suddenly dawned on him. This had all only started after he left his former employment. What was the last thing his former boss had said to him? “If you walk out that door now…” He’d been cursed. He realised the only way to lift the curse was to get his former boss to forgive him.
The following morning he got ready and braced himself before venturing out of the house, concentrating on his former boss’s office which he duly appeared in, only to find it was empty. A few moments later his boss’s PA walked into the room, but before she could challenge him he asked her “Is Nigel in today?”
“Um. Oh! No. He’s in Court today. If you wish I can make an appointment…”
“No. That’s ok. Do you know which court?” Josh said hastily.
“I think it’s the Crown Court, no. 2. Are you alright?” Said the PA, not sure whether she should have given Josh that information.
“Uhh, yes I’m fine. Thank you. Could you leave the door open? Thank you.” Said Josh as he hurried out of the room. He knew his way around this building but would have to travel to the courts, so he decided to hail a Taxi as that would be quicker, and within seconds one had pulled over. Josh hesitated before getting into the Taxi.
“Excuse me, could you open the door for me please?” He said to the driver.
“What?” Said the driver.
“Sorry, could you open the door for me please?”
“To do that I’ll have to get out of the car. Can’t you do it?”
“No, sorry. I’ve injured my arm.” Said Josh, holding his right arm up.
At this the driver cussed, got out of the car and begrudgingly opened the door for him.
It was a good fifteen minutes through heavy traffic to get to the courts, but once there the driver again, begrudgingly, opened the door for him. Josh rushed up the marble steps to the entrance of the court, and in his haste had gone through the double doors just as two young women were also entering, one of them describing to the other her holiday in the Caribbean.
Josh rushed through the door and straight into the sea. He just managed to avoid falling forwards as the water swelled around his feet and knees. He looked round to see he was on a beach with lightly coloured sand shimmering in the near overhead sunlight. There were several people in swimwear lying on the beach soaking up the rays, who each in turn looked up and smirked at him. They all found it hilarious to see a man in a pin-striped suit with trousers sodden up to his knees, picking up sand as he struggled to make his way off the beach in black shoes that disappeared into the sand on every step – all except Josh that is. He made his way towards a Beach Hut where there were some people sitting by a bar, and asked the barman where the toilet was.
“You’re a bit over
dressed aren’t you?” Said the barman, to the smiles of his customers, but Josh was in no mood for banter.
“Could you just tell me where the toilet is?” He barked.
“Alright.” Said the barman. “Just round here to the left.”
Without saying thank you or anything Josh rushed round to the toilet to find the door was locked, with what looked like a coin meter above the handle.
“One Peso.” Read the sign above the meter.
“I don’t have any Pesos on me!” Cried Josh. He looked around in a panic and ended up back at the bar where he noticed a bowl with some coins in it, so he grabbed a handful and rushed back to the toilet.
“Did you see that?” Said one of the customers to the barman. “He’s just taken some money out of your tips bowl.”
“What. Can you watch the bar for me please?” The barman made his way round to confront Josh, who was at the toilet door clumsily trying out different coins to see if one fitted the meter’s slot.
“Wait a minute Mister! You don’t just take the money like that!” The barman shouted at Josh, but before he reached him one of the coins fell into the slot and Josh rushed through the door, finding himself once more outside the main entrance to the courthouse.
He caught his breath on the steps for a moment, then decided to wait until there was no one else around before
