The box! It has always been about the box. Henry received it by a mere accident. One random night, he was driving and his car ran out of gas. He pulled over, and went inside this store to use the phone. A man, a strange man, sold him the box. He'll never forget him. His eyes were vacant; he had a long black beard. His words still ran chills down his spine. 'What is your pleasure sir?'
He bought the box, and brought it home. He wasn't even sure why he brought it. It was as if the box called to him. He needed to open it. He needed to know what was inside the box.
Now his life had changed. The simple brown box with golden engravings around it had changed his life. He brought the curse into his home. A friend opened it accidentally. Henry had left for just a second, but his friend opened it. His friend's skin was full of sharp hooks that were connected to chains. He was quickly torn apart, as if he had exploded.
The entire place had become black. The walls, and floorboards, began to shake. He could see a blue light coming from in between the boards that held his house together. Then he saw them, the Cenobites. They wanted to kill him to, but he managed to escape. When he saw the one, the leader his body filled with fear. The leader was a tall man, with nails all around his head. His black eyes frightened him. Him, a grown man! His mere presence was enough to send him into complete shock.
He backed away from him. From the creatures who slightly resembled him. He never forgot the sound of chattering teeth, nor could he forget the image of the woman who had an open wound in her throat, and a large hook in her hand. The sights, the sounds, told him he was in hell. He knew he was facing the very demons who wanted to destroy him as they did his friend.
He managed to escape, but wasn't sure how. He ran from that house, from that room, from those Cenobites, those demons. Only they never really left him. Not really. He could always feel their presence. No matter what he did, no matter where he went, they were there. The thought of them knowing what he was going through, following him, waiting for the right moment. The very thought of them made him anxious. It could have been just normal paranoia. Yea, it could have been just his imagination.
However, he could never explain those moments; the moments when they came around, when he saw them, the moments when he talked to them. He could never forget when they cut into his flesh, then disappeared. There was two women once. Although they had no clear faces, they did have long hair tied in a pony tail. They tried to seduce him. Only their seduction was much darker than anything he had ever experienced before. He couldn't deny that he enjoyed it more than the norm. It still frightened him.
They would appear from time to time, toying with his mind, toying with his life. He knew the truth, even if he didn't want to admit it. He looked at the box knowing what rested inside it. He carefully picked it up. He held the box lightly in his hand, touching it with the tips of his fingers. He gently traced the boarder lines of the golden engravings. He found the top; a large golden circle was there. The circle had four small triangle markings in it. He traced the outside of the circle a few times. He felt his fingers being guided. His fingers knew where to go, what to do.
Suddenly he felt a jolt surge through his hands. He dropped the box, and it rolled a little ways from him. The top, with the circle, remained on top. Suddenly, the box moved itself. A part of it popped up from the rest. It resembled a sun like shape, then it twisted itself around. It placed itself back into the box, only now it made the box disproportionate.
He hadn't noticed the room had become darker. He didn't need to notice, for he knew what was going to happen. All those daunting days and nights of the curse following him was about to come to a close. He was about to discover the truth. He was going to face them, the Cenobites, the ones who condemned his very life.
"You knew that you could never escape your fate," a deep terrifying voice said to him.
He looked up to see the leader of the Cenobites. The one he nicknamed Pinhead. He felt as if his heart had stopped, as if the world was crashing down all around him. He was face to face with hell. He was now a condemned soul. He stood up, staring at the ones who would kill him, the ones who would seal his fate forever.
He heard the sound of chattering teeth behind him. He saw the same woman who still held the large hook in her hand. She must have been a beauty, he thought to himself. Someone he would have wanted in his bed. That was before she died, before she became this monstrous villain.
Soon he felt the sharp sting of hooks in his skin. Two hooks had found their ways into his hands. They held him up while they did what they wanted to do. Soon there were more hooks. They dug deep into his skin. He could fell them pulling, pulling, and pulling. His skin was pulled apart. His body was being pulled with his skin. He could fell it, he could fell the pain. A simple thought came into his mind, a simple quote of phase. 'Jesus wept.'
Soon he had been pulled apart. His body became nothing more than scattered bits of pieces on the floor. He awoke in hell. He was tied by his wrists. He knew what was to come. This meant more than the end. It meant years and years of serving on hell, unless someone accidentally drops blood on the floor that he had died on. But, for now he was in hell. There was no way out for him. He would learn what pain and desire felt like, every feeling more intense than they had been in his life. What sights they must have to show.