https://Voice.club - It was a dark, moonless night when I stumbled upon the old building in the deep recesses of the ancient city. The Iron Gate creaked open. Small pieces of gravel crunched ominously under my feet as I walked along the curving drive towards the building silhouetted against the shadowy sky. With a beating heart I turned the rusted steel ring and felt the oak door creak noisily away from me towards the dimly lit interior.
Once inside I found myself within a long, white corridor with intricate carvings. As I walked along the stone slabs I passed a series of doors on either side of the passage. I tried each only to find them locked. One was labelled “Infancy” and another “Middle Age”. I grew desperate and turned, hoping to make my way back. But only darkness lay in that direction. Only a frail light in front of me offered any hope. It kept me moving tentatively forward.
At the very end of the passageway I came to a small wooden door on which was a label that read “Mortality” in the gothic style favoured by stonemasons. I turned the large brass doorknob formed into a goblin’s head. It was unlocked. I swung the door open, took a long heavy breath and stepped inside. It took a little time for my eyes to adjust to the thin light. But then I saw them.
Stacked from roof to floor were all the worldly ills. So this is where they had gone when Pandora had set them free - old age, arthritis, gallstones and the ancient pox.
Time passed quickly. High on a wall was mounted a huge clock whose hands were nearing the twelve. Was it my imagination or did its ticking grow louder and start to match the rapid beating of my heart?
As I waited for it to strike the hour I wished that I’d never found that last remaining door and gone inside.
But now it was too late. Far too late…