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Dear Diary-

Their cries woke me again last night.  They beg, weep and plead for me to save them.  Their desperate wails dig into my ear and gnaw at my brain.  I cannot sleep.  My head screams with their howls and my own frustrations.  I made a promise I can’t deny any longer.  I must keep it.  I must save them.

-Wilson

Dear Diary-

The constant banging on the ceiling woke me again last night.  I don’t know what he does up there.  He also keeps the windows open all night despite the cold.  It is freezing down here.  I cannot sleep.  I despise him.

-Alfred

Dear Diary-

I went to the prison last night to begin the work that had been planned months ago but I had forgotten about the gates. They terrify me.  The dark demonic faces welded on the rusted, ancient gates stare directly into my soul.  They tell me the woes of those on the other side, and warn me of my certain demise if I cross.  My stomach aches with fear and my head pounds.  I do not know how I’m ever going to be able to go back there.

-Wilson

Dear Diary-

While on my way upstairs today to talk to Wilson about the constant noise and of course the overall temperature of the house, I tripped over a muddy shovel that had been carelessly left in the stairwell.  I landed on my head and split it wide open.  I do wonder what he is doing with the shovel.  Hopefully he is not messing with my garden again.  I am going to sit down and have a serious talk with him once my head quits pounding.

-Alfred

Dear Diary-

I am too exhausted to write.  I cannot get the gates to open.  It was difficult to even go back there and I struggled with them all night long.  It’s as if they are frozen shut.   I do not know what I am going to do.

-Wilson

Dear Diary-

I made it upstairs to talk with him this evening only to realize he wasn’t there.  The car is still in the driveway; I have no idea where he could have gone so late in the evening.  The muddy shovel is gone as well.  My head still throbs and I’m sure I’ll be left with a horrid scar as a reminder of his carelessness. He left his door open and I shut all the windows that were thoughtlessly left open again. Hopefully the house warms up some so I may get some restful sleep tonight.

-Alfred

Dear Diary-

I fear I will never open the gates. I still can’t get them to budge.  My head pounds.  I am terrified their voices will return to terrorize me if I am not successful and I simply cannot endure that torture again.  I am attempting to dig a hole under the unmovable and ominous gates; and while the hole I’ve dug is quite impressive, I still have not gotten all the way under them.  I swear they reach as far down as the center of Hell and they judge me as I dig.

-Wilson

Dear Diary-

Again he was gone when I went upstairs to speak with him this evening.  The car is still here just like last night.  I wonder where he is going and what he is doing.  He left the shed open and my gardening tools spread about.  I hate when he borrows my things.  Even when he does ask he usually returns them broken and useless.  I shut the windows again.  If he wasn’t my brother I wouldn’t tolerate so much.

-Alfred

Dear Diary-

Hallelujah! Tonight the gates finally opened! Just when I thought I couldn’t dig anymore, that my back would certainly break, they opened as if waiting for me all along; testing me. I collapsed with joy.  They will be free soon, and so will I.

-Wilson

Dear Diary-

Wilson woke me up at 5:00 this morning knocking on my door.  He had a friend with him, Mr. Haven, whom he insisted stay with me in the basement until Wilson could rescue Mr. Haven’s friends and then they would be on their way.  I was annoyed and could barely look at Mr. Haven.  He is an old fellow with a careworn face and pathetic eyes.  How could I say no to Wilson in front of this man? I couldn’t.  So now I have one roommate, with the very real possibility of more.

-Alfred

Dear Diary-

The joy on Mr. Haven’s face was unmistakable tonight.  It was quite a bit of work to free him but it was worth it.  I have asked Alfred to let him stay downstairs with him for awhile until I can free the others. I’m sure he is put out by this, but I believe it will actually do him good to have some company for a change.  I am tired now and will go back tomorrow night for as many of the others as I can free. My head hurts.

-Wilson

Dear Diary-

Over the course of the last week my roommates have accumulated to the surprising number of 6.  As much I thought it would be horrible to share my living quarters with others, I have found the company to be quite stimulating and fun. However, they all are in dire need of a bath.  I do not wish to offend them by pressing the issue but they certainly have begun to fill my apartment with a tremendous and almost unbearable stench.

-Alfred

Dear Diary-

The last of my friends have been rescued this evening and are quietly relaxing with Alfred and the others in the basement.  I have never been so exhausted in all my life and have never had quite a headache as I do.  I feel as if I could sleep for a week.

-Wilson

Dear Diary-

I have not seen Wilson for three days now.  He locked the door to the basement the last time he was down here and now we have no way out.  I know he is upstairs; I can hear him pounding on the floor again.  I have tried to yell through the ceiling to him but receive no response.  His friends are growing restless and are eager to leave. As much as I don’t want them to go, it has become rather cramped down here and the smell has certainly grown tenacious.

-Alfred

Dear Diary-

My company has grown angry with me.  They insist I know where Wilson is and that I am keeping them from him.  I saw one of them with a gun yesterday and now fear for my life.  I wish Wilson would come back.  I am panicking.

-Alfred

Dear Diary-

I can’t believe I have been so careless.  I trusted criminals. I brought them into my home and lived amongst them.  I feared they would never let me sleep again until I freed them but now I fear to sleep at all.   My skin crawls when I look around the room at the expressionless faces staring back at me.  My stomach lurches from the stench.  There is only one way out of this horrid situation.  The angry faces of the gates still haunt me every time I close my eyes.  I can’t sleep.

-Alfred Wilson

Local Man Kills Himself After Excavating More than 11 Graves from Local Cemetery and Keeping the Bodies in His Basement.

Owner of Dedman Productions, a small production company that focuses on bringing entertainment in both fiction and film.

2 Comment on “The Gates by Lisa De Young

  1. Pingback: Horror Sunday | Deadman's Tome

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