The glitter on a paint and plaster face...

[Steve Jones]

He inched ahead quietly now.

[Narrator]

Definitely voices. Vaguely familiar too but also the sound of rust grinding on metal.

[Steve Jones]

He kept going, cautious of the moving shadows.

Did the key bring me here?

[Narrator]

More sounds of metal. Is that something slithering up ahead? No, not slithering, something being dragged on a rusty chain.

[Steve Jones]

He felt an incredibly powerful urge to turn and run back to hide, but kept creeping ahead.

Just like that night.

[Narrator]

A shambling mass up ahead is dragging the bloody lump behind itself. Then it suddenly stops and lifts it's head as if it heard or smelled something.

[Steve Jones]

Steve became totally still, trying not to hyperventilate.

[Narrator]

The rusty chain jingles faintly, then the shape keeps moving, dragging the shape along with a sickening wet sound on the carpet.

[Steve Jones]

Feeling that if he turned around to flee now it would be the end of him, he looked around desperately for an intersecting hall.

[Narrator]

There was one a couple yards back, though the seemed even darker than the one he's in now.

[Steve Jones]

He inched backward toward the intersecting hall before turning and continuing a little less slowly.

[Narrator]

The hall soon would turn darker and darker as the distance between the working lamps increases and soon he'd be unable to spot any up ahead.

[Steve Jones]

I'm going to die here, aren't I?

He looked at the strange key again.

[Narrator]

It looked like it always did.

Then suddenly the light that was coming back from the intersection dimmed as a silhouette steps into the hallway Steve is in.

[Steve Jones]

He didn't even need to look back to know what was there and that it wanted blood. He broke into a run.

[Narrator]

He'd stumble occasionally over things that it thankfully was too dark to identify but the smell in the hallway probably told him enough. The shambling shape behind him doesn't seem to be in any hurry and after a bit of running he would realize why as he comes to a stop in a dead end.

[Steve Jones]

He blindly groped the dark wall.

Please be a door. Please be a door. Please be a door. Please be a door.

[Narrator]

There's something that opens under his searching hands. It's not quite big enough to be a door but enough for Steve to fit inside.

[Steve Jones]

He crawled inside desperately.

[Narrator]

It's cramped but he fits inside. Not long after he closes the door the shambling presences can be heard outside, making guttural sounds as it looks for Steve. He can hear the sound of rusty metal again but before anything can happen the dumbwaiter suddenly lurches to life, going up.

[Steve Jones]

Up. Thank God almighty he was going up.

But he was still terrified, trapped in a claustrophobia inducing cage that moved of its own accord.