Concrete Steeple (Part 2)

Hello again! My feet ache like hell, but I wanted to continue my story.

Right after the most haunting sight I had ever seen my world came crashing back. I was back in front of the sliding door, but there was no lady. If not for the orange still in my hand, I would have thought I had gone mad.

“Sir, are you going to come in?” the store clerk said with an underlying tone of calling me a fucking weirdo.

I shook my head and said, “Yeah, sorry.”

I didn’t want to look weirder than I already do, so I entered the store and scurried off to some random aisle. I was walking up and down the aisles looking for mushrooms, which in hindsight was really weird, as I go to that convenience store all the time. 

I could not escape the thought of those eyes. The more I think back on it, the more it feels like eyes weren’t just staring at me, but clawing at me, equally as obsessed with me as I them. Maybe that’s just wishful thinking. All of these thoughts made it impossible to make sense of the convenience store's layout. Which again made it harder to find my mushrooms. Fuck, I really wish I could have some now.

After closely observing every shelf for three aisles, I see those small shriveled little bastards. I picked up a packet and headed for the cashier. It was the same lady who basically called me a fucking weirdo. 

However offended I might’ve felt at that moment, I also understood her. Some guy just staring into the store while rain is pouring down, must have looked straight out of some horror movie. 

I only had cash on me, so as she was scanning the mushrooms I started pulling a few bills out. She reached out her hand, expecting me to hand her the money. I very awkwardly placed the bills in her hand by sliding them off of my hand. I didn’t want to risk touching her. She shot me a look, that said “Come on, dude”, I didn’t know how to respond so I glanced back and gave a shrug and a smile. I think back at that moment, and I hate myself a little bit more each time.

Anyway, after that painfully awkward interaction, I headed towards the exit. The sound of cars grew louder and louder, and I was preparing myself for the deafening sound of raindrops crashing against my hood. The sliding doors parted, accompanied by the sound of wet rubber, and I took my step. That was my first step into that hellscape.

When my foot landed, it didn’t hit a puddle as I expected. All sound faded like someone pressed mute in the middle of a movie. My foot hit solid concrete. I was now staring at a brown, rotten door. All around me, there was just solid smooth concrete. The smell of rain was gone, the air went dry in a second, and there was light but nothing illuminated the room.

That’s how I entered the concrete steeple.