The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

The Doors
by Kim Richards

Bess stood at before the door, hesitant to touch the hammered iron handle. How can a door be so intimidating? It’s just wood and scraps of metal.

She decided it must be what the door stood for, rather than the thing itself, which brought up strong feelings of dread. It was a kind of barrier; a protection against something massively overwhelming and dangerous. More dangerous than the dagger hidden in the folds of her garment? That kind of iron made her feel safe.

The metallic scrape of metal on metal caught Bess’ attention as someone moved behind her. She flinched at the familiar sound, refusing to look back at them. More iron, she thought as she absently rubbed the rough skin on her wrists where her shackles were until this morning. She wore them her entire life. As much as she hated them, it now felt like a part of her was misplaced.

The calluses would soften and fade soon enough…at least that’s what they told her. They told her many things throughout her life which were outright lies. This had to be one of them.

She wiped her sweaty palms on the soft, new linen tunic her owners dressed her in after a hot bath with painful scrubbing. The tangles were ripped from her hair and the ends of it cut with forged scissors made for sewing. More iron. A woman she never met before braided her hair and smeared colored paint on her eyelids and lips. Like an itch, Bess found it hard to avoid reaching up and rubbing the areas.

Two men’s voices came from beyond the heavy door. Although she couldn’t understand the muffled words, one of them spoke in angry tones. She decided it was because she stood here so long. With a deep breath…in and out…she grasped the iron handle in her hands and pulled hard to open the door.

As the hinges creaked, both men stopped talking and turned to face Bess as she stepped cautiously into the room. The first man, her master, smiled and moved closer to her. The second man was large with bronze skin and round brown eyes. Bess could not tell if he were angry, inpatient, or anything really. His expression was one of…hunger?

She was presented to the man who looked her over head to toe. Then he grunted and motioned for her to follow him. He crossed the bare room towards another door with sunlight shining beneath.

Just as Bess took a step to follow him, a hand gripped her shoulder painfully. The voice of her master, low and mean, said in her ear, “Remember: do it just the way I showed you. Kill him and freedom is yours.”

Bess caressed the dagger with one hand, nodded, and moved to join her new master—her new husband.

Fiction © Copyright Kim Richards
Image courtesy of Nina D’Arcangela.