Hellhound On My Trail

Authors: D. J. Butler

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“Mike called, stumbling through the door. “What’s the Left Hand?”He found himself in a little antechamber, like a cloakroom or a small lobby, and Adrian had already passed through and gone ahead. Mike stopped to look around and let his eyes adjust—light came in from other chambers, but this entry hall was unlit. Mike had been in more than one synagogue, and here he expected to see, once his eyes grew used to the dimmer light, some kind of social space. Like a board, with community notices, maybe..., or items relating to the congregation’s history, or ads for used cars.Instead, the room was stark and bare. Off to his right, the chewed-to-bits remnants of a curtain hung over a dimly lit stairway climbing up. Ahead of him was another doorway containing double doors, one of which hung askew on a single hinge while the other lay flat on the floor. Both doors were heavy hardwood affairs, carved with spiral patterns of square Hebrew letters, the bottom of each had been painted gold. To either side of the doorway stood a single stone pillar, smooth and plain.MoreLess Read More Read Less