you sink bullet after bullet into the wooden door. Splinter dust and smoke leap from dark holes in the door that seem to contract as if an orifice, as if you asshole would tighten up so that it was smooth like your other skin.
You start to hear some deep guttural vibrations from loud speakers. You feel sick in your gut even as the gun recoils in your hand from round after round spent into this strange evil doorway.
Faint shrieks become even louder and louder like a train coming on but building and building and not passing by...no relief of the train passing...of the noise dissipating...but building...growing in loudness and intensity.
The many blast wounds into the door all start to murmur like indecent mouths expelling strange yellow vapors that shriek with the sound of 100 Stags thundering hooves.
You are too petrified to run. You can't really move or speak. Numb with terror.
You die of shock, or that is what the coroner says when he examines your body that was found dead.