Masked

Trainride at night

A short horror story I wrote a while ago

Word count: 1208

TW: Gore, body horror, blood

For so far I could see and hear, the train seemed to be entirely empty. There was no movement or other sounds either, except for my own.

A soft krrsss can be heard as I turn a page of the book I'm holding.

Outside its dark. Not just dark that you can see something, no it is pitch black. Like the windows are just painted walls or someone put the plastic bags made for trash cans onto the windows.

Bored I stare at the unmoving words in the book I am holding in my hand. Too tired to actually read them. Too tired from the long day, but it's not like I have anything better to do anyway.

With my elbow I lean against the window in order not to fall asleep.

"ugh..." I sigh annoyed as I slam my book shut, I can't stay awake if I keep staring at my book!

I look around, but the only movement is that of the moving vehicle as it gently drives over the railway tracks. It drives so gently and quietly it almost sounds like humming. The sound is not annoying in any way, but doesn't help me with staying awake.

Even if the train drives so quietly, it is still going quite fast.

Sudden all the lights go out and it becomes even darker.

I can't see the windows.

I can't see my hands.

I can't see the closed cover of my book.

I can't see anything.

It is almost as if the world stopped existing, the only proof of it not being the case is the soft humming of the train wagons.

I am tired.

So tired.

I wonder if the train driver has forgotten that they still have one passenger, but we are still driving and we haven't passed my station yet.

Blinded by the darkness I feel around for my bag and take out my phone.

Too Bright!!

I shield my eyes from the light from my phone as I try to find the flashlight function.

My tired eyes really seem to need the extra time adjusting to the light.

I look around, something was off.

Not my seat, but all the others looked... thorned up and very old.

Weird, I'm sure that this is a relatively new train.

I quickly put my book in my bag and decide to look around. I don't feel safe to just sit in one place.

I decide that the best option is to look for the driver, so forward it is.

With my light forward and holding trying to keep away the fear, I walk through the seemingly endless train.

After a bit I notice that everything in the train starts looking worse, missing seats and then broken glass.

All of a suddenly another train passes mine, the lights are on, but no one seems to be on it... wait no, someone is there.

A strange figure stands by the window, as I look closer I see the familiar shape of myself.

It's me.

But wrong.

The head is twisting too fast for a human and bones are sticking out of its body.

I can see my ribs poking holes out of the chest with blood streaming down.

Both trains seem to be going the same speed now and I stand facing the other me, without saying a word I stare at it, readying myself for anything.

Then the head stops twisting and it stares at me with one eye hanging loosely over the right cheek.

I quickly take a step back.

"Who..." I whisper, but as I try to speak the other me shakingly puts a finger against its lips.

I try to breathe normally, but it is getting more and more difficult.

After a staring contest (and battle for me not to empty my stomach here) it suddenly jerks an arm pointing to my left.

What the hell?!

Don't go to the front of the train, go back.

Was that a voice in my head? Or did I say that out loud? How much is the other me able to take control?

"Right..." I whisper as I back off further, walking in the direction 'me' wants me to go.

A creepy smile appears on 'my' face, not mine, not mine at all.

Quickly I start running, I almost drop my phone thanks to my sweaty hands.

Luckily there is still some light from the other train, but on the other hand it creates many creepy shadows and sometimes it looks like other people are sitting or standing around me.

I run as fast as I can until my breath has all run out and I fall to the ground gasping for air.

I got to keep going.

I got to keep...

I got to...

I got...

I...

Darkness consumes my vision like many hands appearing and blocking my view.

Screaming doesn't work, something is blocking my mouth from opening.

.

.

.

As I open my eyes I see that the trains lights are working again, the other train is gone and I'm lying on the floor.

Did all of that really happen?

No, there is no way.

Carefully I get back up on my feet again and pick up my phone.

Oh crap, the screen is scratched. Well, hopefully I can get it repaired.

I turn it on, it still seems to work.

Something catches my eye, my phone's battery is 48%...

I could have sworn I had less than that, like 30% or something.

I put the device in my pocket and walked the way I was going before I collapsed.

Sssrrkkk....

Sssrrrkkk...

What is that noise?

It sounds like it is coming from a few seats in front of me.

Quickly I walk towards it, hoping to find another living human being that doesn't have bones sticking out.

Someone seems to be reading a book.

Again?

It is another me again, no blood this time though.

Quietly so as not to make a noise I walk by, when I stop, two steps apart, the other me stops turning the pages.

I take a step back, they suddenly turn a page again, the other way this time.

Don't tell me.... Is that 'me' in reverse of me?

When I take a step forward 'I' do it again.

So It really is reversed, now that I think of it, the train sounds different, so... is this also?

I don't get it, I want to get out!

I quickly run past myself to make sure I don't get attacked.

The thought of breaking a window jumps in my mind, but I don't want to attract any unwanted attention.

As I run I see another me and another me.

Everyone of them, doing something different or sitting somewhere else.

All of a sudden the sound of something breaking behind me catches my attention and I turn around to look.

It seems to be nothing at first, but then something else breaks again...

It's the lights.

One by one, like the darkness decided to walk toward me and with each one, it goes faster.

Again I run, passing by more other me's.

I can hear someone speaking behind me, but it all sounds like it is in reverse.

When I look behind me I bump into another me standing close to a door.

"Get out, get out!" I yell.

"Get OUT!!!"

I look up from my phone, did someone just talk to me?

I look outside, it is dark outside the train like usual around this time.

The humming of the vehicle almost makes me fall asleep.

The train comes to a halt.

Is this my stop?

Seems like it.

I press the button for the doors to open and after a second they do.

As they open and I step aside, my reflection appears rather strange.

Was I just smiling? Like really creepy?

Do you remember?

I hope you all had a great christmas!!

Here is another short horror story I wrote recently, that I thought to be fitting:)

Word count: 362

TW: horror

Do you remember?

The falling snow?

The warmth of the fire?

The kind smile on your mother's face?

That day we met... do you remember?

That day, many, many years ago.

When you came by and we became fast friends.

You were so kind.

I didn't have any friends, but you wanted to be mine.

I have always really appreciated that from you...

Your kindness.

Your openness to whomever, whatever...

Remember when we first played outside together?

The crunching of freshly fallen snow underneath our feet.

The woods surrounding your house, slowly getting darker and darker.

That day we completely lost track of time.

That day was truly amazing.

Remember that day when there was a snowstorm outside?

We couldn't play outside, so we sat by the warm fire in the living room.

We played with your toys and told each other stories.

I still remember all of them.

Do you?

Do you remember our first sleepover?

We talked and talked, until your mother came to your room, telling us to be quiet.

At night it would start storming and you tried to keep me from getting scared.

So warm, so gentle.

But now... you've changed.

You've... gone cold in a way.

Still breathing, yes, but you feel like a colder person now.

Do you even remember who you used to be? What you used to be like?

Has it really been that long?

Is there something I should remember?

When you just looked at me, you made a face like you were looking at vermin.

Remember the crunching of snow, remember the crackling of the fire, remember our laughter from those many, many days gone by.

I guess it's time.

Nothing else to be done other than this.

If I leave you like this...

You're going to be wasting away.

You're going to rot.

You're going bad.

You'll be spoiled before long.

I guess to you I might not even be vermin, I honestly think more that you might see me as a monster.

I'm different from you.

I scare you.

I scared your family.

Well I might be truly a monster to your kind.

Hiding in the shadows.

Eating creatures that are still alive.

Drinking their blood.

Most of your kind don't do that... right?

Or perhaps they do in some other way?

Do you remember?

Because I don't.

My head is too busy thinking.

Thinking about how I will stop playing with my food.

Yes, you guessed right.

You are.

Because if I don't... you'll expire.

The puddle

A short horror story I just finished writing:)

Word count: 469

While waiting outside, I spot something strange.

A puddle lighted by a street lantern moving in a rather strange manner.

It doesn’t take long for me to notice that it’s probably just the wind playing with it, just as the wind is playing with my hair.

Blowing it in and out of my face continuously, almost like a small child that just got its hands on a new toy. Tirelessly as if to signal that it will never bore.

Again my gaze wanders back to the puddle.

It ripples in a strange manner, almost as if something alive is in it.

But I know for certain that it can’t be anything, since it should be as shallow as any other small puddle on the neatly tiled streets.

Perhaps an inch deep at most, but most likely even more shallow.

The water starts to move around quicker and more wild, making me almost believe there to be a fish flopping about.

Perhaps it is a bird, who knows.

As I start to feel the slightest bit of guilt, of possibly letting some small animal die, I get up.

I slowly stand up from the cold bench and walk over to it… slowly… very slow.

Now the water seems to almost be dancing, dancing inside the small puddle.

Up and down it goes, now I’m sure the wind doesn’t have the power to do something like that.

As I gaze into the dark puddle, I can’t seem to find the bottom of it.

Is it just too dark outside already for me to spot this?

No, I can see inside the other puddles perfectly fine, the many lines of them neatly in rows.

Before I know it the darkness inside it seems to grow, the puddle has gotten larger and larger..

It can’t be!

I try to take a step back, but it’s as if the puddle itself has taken me within its cold gaze, staring back into my very core.

Nothing I can do about it, I stare back, into the cold wetness of its never-ending insides.

Something deep and dark is within it.

Would I seem possessed to those around me?

Well, I’m sure I’m alone though. It’s too late for someone to see me, for someone to stop this staring contest.

The water has calmed down again, as if seeing me has made it sink deep into thought.

Calmly it ripples again at the rules of the wind.

Then rapidly something comes out of the puddle.

An arm.

A human arm.

Grasping in the air for some unknown reason.

Perhaps for help.

Without thought or perhaps still possessed by the water I take it, trying to take it out of there.

It’s coldness seeps deep into my body as it grabs my arm with full strength.

For a moment nothing else happens, just me staring at the body part clenching me.

With a quick yank it suddenly pulls me closer.

Closer and closer.

Until I too am taken into the darkness of the puddle

The fears of an inanimate object

I wrote this one a while ago, but still found it fun to share.

I hope you enjoy this short horror story:)

TW: Gore, blood, dolls

Word count: 1534

I have gotten so used to the smell, I don't even notice it anymore.

It's the smell of old books, old people and old junk.

I've sat here, day in, day out. Never able to do anything. I can't move or speak. I can't even blink.

My head has always been fixed in one position and that is forward.

I am like many in this old thrift store, an old, dusty object.

I am a doll.

I know I am, I've seen myself in a mirror before, that's when they brought me here and it is my very first memory.

It honestly is very strange, I am an inanimate object with thoughts and feelings, yet I can't do anything or let anyone know.

I was quite upset and shocked when I found out. Scared, but unable to show the emotion. Wanting to scream but unable to tell anyone. Unable to move, but wanting someone to comfort me.

That was the worst part of my being.

I just woke up, learning that my life held no meaning and I would never be able to do anything or be loved by anyone.

I hated it.

I hated my existence.

I hated whomever put me here.

I hated my creator, yet there is nothing I can ever do about it.

So I just sat here. Always in the same place, always dressed the same, always looking the same. Always with a little extra layer of dust covering me. Always praying. Always hoping for a change.

I've seen the sun come up and go under for a long time now, from a tiny window in the back of the store. Each time it came, it took a little bit of color from the objects in its way. Until they turned gray and were thrown out.

I was lucky, the sun never shone on me, it couldn't. So the light just lurked ever so slightly under my feet. Like a hungry predator, waiting for its prey to run. But I of course would never move, so it just left every time it had to go again.

At some point, I got jealous of the sunlight, it was able to shine. It was able to move. It was always there for the people and animals and I could or would never be able to.

Such a stupid thing to be jealous of.

I was even more jealous of the tiny birds by the window, as short as their lives might be, they were my only source of entertainment.

The birds sang to one another and could fly, they could travel. Oh how much I wished that I would have been born a bird and not an inanimate doll.

I've seen people come and go, I've seen them get older and then eventually one day they just stopped coming and new people took their place.

Take me home, take me home...

I silently wished.

But who would listen to the pleading of a voiceless doll, an object without a soul.

Something that can't do anything or even think.

Well of course they are wrong at that last part. I am very lucid after all.

Unfortunately...

Then one day, The happiest day of my inanimate life, a little girl and her mother came to visit the store.

The girl saw me.

As soon as she did, her eyes started sparkling. I've never seen anyone's eyes do that before. Especially when they saw me.

The girl almost seemed to fly towards me, that's how quick she was.

She was the very first person that would speak to me.

"Hello Dolly, what's your name? Do you wanna be friends?" Her little arms stretched out to me in a hug.

I've never had a hug before, it is so warm. I wanted to cry, but of course I couldn't.

I wanted to tell her to please take me away from here, oh please.

Of course I wanted to be her friend, I've always wished for one and she would be my first.

It was like she could read my mind.

She begged her mother to get me for her.

Her mother wasn't too sold on the idea at first and called me 'that creepy old thing', but her daughter didn't care.

She wanted me and started to throw a fit, then the shopkeeper said that they could have me for free.

What a nice guy.

Now the mother couldn't refuse anymore and she gave in.

"Fine, but keep that thing away from me." She told the little girl, while looking at me like I was a dirty old sock.

Well I forgive her, I was too happy anyway. I had been here for god-knows-how-long and even the spiders didn't like me.

And so, I left the old thrift store and started anew with a new family and a best friend.

Molly (the little girl) and I did a lot of things together, she would dress me up at least 17 times a day. With clothes her grandmother had made for me. She told us that she once had a doll like me, that also looked very similar. She was also able to repair and clean me a bit and after that I had become a lot prettier.

After all that, even Molly's mother didn't even feel that bothered by me anymore.

We had tons of tea parties and Molly had of course given me a full tour of the house and introduced me to all the other dolls and stuffed animals.

I knew all their names by heart. I wonder if any of them were like me, but there wouldn't be any way of knowing.

I might not be able to do or say anything, but I really did have the time of my life there.

I have a home.

We would eat breakfast together, we would go on walks together. We would talk about anything, well more like I would listen, but I really don't mind.

Unlike other kids, Molly is a very gentle soul and always takes very good care of me. She has never even dropped me, not even by accident.

One day school had started for her again, we met during the summer holiday after all.

I felt sad to let her go, she wasn't allowed to take me with her.

Every time she came home, she looked a bit upset. She seemed to try to hide.

One day she asked me: "Dolly, can I ask you something?"

I could see tears welling up in her reddish eyes. "Dolly, do you hate me too?"

This broke my heart.

Of course I didn't hate her.

I would never.

She was my dearest friend.

My personal hero.

I felt awful, I couldn't do anything. I hadn't felt like this in a while, it was like I was back in that awful dark place. Where I would never be able to do anything.

I want her to be happy.

She doesn't deserve whatever she's dealing with right now.

Not with how kind and gentle she is.

And yet, I just can't do anything...

I wanted to talk to her, I wanted to support her or at least to be supported. Her mother is quite busy and didn't always seem to notice.

I wish I could let her know, even if it is only her.

But I am just an inanimate object, incapable of speech.

Tonight something awful happened...

Someone broke in.

It was unplanned, he didn't seem to know the layout of the house.

The burgler was probably looking for valuables.

Only Molly and her mother were at home that night.

Both asleep.

The man accidently entered the wrong room.

Molly and my room.

Molly is a very light sleeper and woke up by the gently creaking door.

She noticed the bugler and started to scream.

So he hit her, he didn't want any witnesses.

He was desperate.

He would even kill to get his prize.

He hit her again with his bat.

And again.

I could do nothing but watch this horrible scene in front of me.

I wanted to scream.

I wanted to save Molly.

He hit her again and she stopped crying, bleeding heavily.

Something snapped in me.

My emotions, but also my shackles which had kept me stuck for so many years.

I was going to kill him.

This man... had to go.

I don't know how, but I got out.

Out of my cell, which was my body.

Out of my dusty prison.

I shattered the room's window and with the glass shards, I pinned the man against the ceiling.

Anger.

Anger was the only feeling.

Anger and rage. Then maybe, also hate.

He screamed.

He cried.

It made me feel something... like joy.

Blood dripped down like a slow waterfall, creating a pool on the wooden floor.

Blood stained the carpet.

Bleed more...

BLEED MORE!!!

I think I killed him.

Did I go too far?

He stopped crying.

He stopped screaming.

Molly's mother runs into the room to save her.

I quickly return to my body, she probably hasn't seen me.

She screamed when she noticed the man on the ceiling.

She got her daughter out of that room as soon as possible, leaving me behind.

Leaving me behind in the mess I made.

I can see blue and red flashing lights outside.

The cops have arrived.

The paramedics as well.

Molly seemed to have had a slight concussion, lucky girl.

I'm so glad, it didn't get any worse.

Molly doesn't really know what happened though, probably just her child mind keeping her protected.

It has been a week and Molly is ready to return to school again.

And I guess I'm lucky too, it is take-your-toy-to-school day.

Molly has promised to take me.

I'm glad.

Now I can find out who made her upset like before.

And now I can do something about it.

With my new power, I will surely be able to make her happy again.

The flames in her eyes

The most recent short story I wrote.

I wouldn't call it horror, but to some it might be seen as frightening or dark. Personally I find it to be closer to fantasy.

Word count: 2298

This place, if I can call it that, feels like the strangest place I’ve ever been.

It’s so very cold here, although that might also just be my own body temperature, coming from within me. Am I cooling down this place? Though there still remains the slight chance of me being wrong about everything.

It’s far too dark to see, pitch black, darker than any place I’ve ever been .

Darker than the most cloudy of nights.

Darker than my room with the curtains closed at night.

I quietly wonder if I’m still asleep after all and decide to take a step forward to test this theory.

Unexpectedly I drop onto an unfamiliar floor.

So… I was standing when I awoke?

Not lying down?

With my hands I blindly scan the texture of the floor.

It’s colder than the air, my fingers run over something that feels like old tiles.

Damnit, why does it have to be so dark in here? If I could just see, I could have avoided falling.

Then the real question hits me: How the hell did I get here?!

Abduction?

I don’t remember a thing.

A nightmare?

It’s too real for that.

Should I wait? Would that be better? Maybe someone will rescue me.

Or perhaps this is a dream in which I must first die to wake up again?

But then I would need to get up and walk around…

After a couple of minutes of contemplating my choices, I finally decide that it’s time to get up again.

Almost embarrassingly childlike I stumble around in the dark.

Tripping over my own feet and at times an alien object, I finally reach something that could possibly be a wall.

Gently running my hands around me, I find another wall that seems to be made of something like metal bars, like those inside a prison cell. Too tight too escape from.

Still following this one might bring me to the exit.

I use the cold, rusty bars in order to move around, they feel old.

Taking one after another I carefully make my way forward.

Had this been a prison at some time? I question myself in silence.

Right, the silence.

This place seems to almost be completely without sound.

No noise of the wind, not even a little bit. Though I guess if I really want to hear it, I can just wave my arms around really quickly and create something like it.

Furthermore, there are no voices, no breathing from any other possible creature within this place.

I wonder if this might be normal or abnormal here, though both fill me with a sense of fear.

I feel my way out of the room, it seems like I’ve not been imprisoned.

Still I don’t feel any relief, because it seems to be terribly dark everywhere around me.

I find myself in what I believe to be a hallway, the walls stretch out always further than I anticipate and are made of a different kind of stone from the walls inside the cell.

I’m starting to lose hope and am just able to stop myself from panicking.

I don’t think I will get out of here.

And perhaps that might be for the best.

My thoughts turn darker than wherever I am, like it’s trying to swallow me whole. Dragging me deeper down with each desperate escape I try to make.

Perhaps I’ve been eaten by some kind of giant creature…?

If it was a creature, it would probably still be warm.

Finally I decide it’s enough and sit down hopelessly on the floor.

Yet no tears leave my eyes, they’re useless anyway.

I sit.

I wait.

I pluck my clothes, until it tires me.

I wait.

My body has now almost completely turned as cold as the floor.

My thoughts, only turning darker and darker.

I close my eyes. Well I’m not sure, perhaps they’re still open. It’s too dark to see.

I wait.

Suddenly something wakes me up as it tumbles over me. Something moving.

“Ouch.” I say even though it doesn’t hurt.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so, so sorry!” The voice breaking the silence startles me.

Echoing, I can make out that the voice most likely belongs to a girl in her late teens.

“Wait, someone else is here?” She asks frightened: “I thought I was all alone.”

“I thought so too, but I guess that’s not the case.” I answer as calmly as possible.

I feel a warm hand helping me stand back on my own feet.

“You’re so cold.” The girl whispers: “How long have you been sitting here?”

I shrug: “No idea.”

I hear her hair moving, most likely she’s turning her head to face me.

And then, I finally see something.

In the eyes of the girl, I spot what seem to be two little flames.

Two blue dancing little flames.

Two little flames that seem to have not lost hope.

Two little flames that want to escape this darkness and return back to the world of light.

“What’s going on with your eyes?” I ask without thinking.

“What do you mean?” She asks surprised.

“It’s like there’s fire coming out of them.”

She giggles: “Yeah sure, the chances of you starting to see things thanks to lying on this cold floor for so long, is pretty damn high.”

Ignoring her I ask: “Do you happen to know a way out?”

“What do you think? I almost can’t see a thing.”

“Almost?”

“Yeah, sometimes only a wall when it’s near and of course my own hands.”

I move my hands, but don’t see them. I can’t see the walls either.

“Really?” I ask.

Could it be that she’s somehow able to see more in this darkness?

She giggles again: “You really can’t see anything? You should be able to see your own hands at least.”

“No…” I hesitatingly answer, shaking my head: “But I can see your eyes.”

“That’s weird, maybe you're imagining it?” It’s clear as day that she’s not taking me seriously.

Ignoring her tone I ask: “Should we try to get out together?”

“Yes please, I’m super glad I’m not alone anymore.” I can hear a sense of fear in her voice, she seems desperately trying to hide.

The girl takes my hand, probably that there’s no way I would be able to find her once lost.

I mumble a thanks and we start walking.

“Are we inside some kind of labyrinth?” The girl complains as we find another wall.

“That might just be the case.” I answer now slightly annoyed by the girl.

“You know, it would help if you weren’t so cold all the time.”

“Sorry.” I apologize. I’ve been told this many times before. That I should act warmer if I want to have a good life. Yet, I’ve found it to be rather difficult. I’ve known what it’s like to be too warm and kind. You often get used by others.

I’ve learned my lesson and cut people off, blocked them away from me. It’s safer that way.

Feeling around with my free hand I suddenly notice a crack inside a wall.

“Hey, could you check this out?” I ask the girl.

“Sure.” In my mind she shrugs as she answers, perhaps she really did it, perhaps she didn’t.

“I think… we can break this down.” She whispers as she lets go of my hand.

I can hear her rummaging around, most likely taking out loose bricks.

“Do be careful that it won’t fall on us.” I warn her.

“Leave it to me, I can see it… though slightly. I believe this should be able to be opened up.”

I take a step back and let her handle it.

She takes out brick after brick.

“I think it’s big enough for both of us to fit through now.” She finally whispers.

She takes my hand again and leads me through the narrow hole in the wall and we enter a new place.

Probably the same as the one before.

“Is this just like the rest?” I ask.

She takes me further away from the hole and touches another wall: “Yeah, we’re still stuck in this labyrinth.”

Suddenly I spot something out of the corner of my eye and quickly take the girl further back, to the other side, away from whatever that is.

“What’s wrong?” She asks slightly frightened.

“I think… someone is there.” I whisper to her.

I see two large flames welling up in the distance.

“Are you sure?” The girl asks.

I nod, but of course she won’t be able to see that.

Carefully I try to lead the girl further back, but am only greeted by a cold wall against my back.

Too late.

The flames look our way.

At first I believe to hear something crackle, only to realise that it’s laughing. Laughing of an old woman.

“You don’t have to hide for me, dear girls.” She laughs in a sweet voice: “I may be old, but my eyes can still see very well.”

I can feel the girl trembling: “How… how is it possible for you to see us?”

“What do you mean, dear child? There is enough light to see everything.”

“No, that’s not true… it’s pitch black, I can barely spot my arms before me.”

Still holding onto each other we slowly walk towards the older woman with her flaming eyes.

Her voice turns to me and so do her flames.

“Can you two really not see anything?”

The girl answers for me: “She can’t, I can just see a little.”

“Do you know a way out?” I ask the older woman.

I see her flames moving, almost as if shaking her head: “No, unfortunately not. Though I believe that now that we’re not alone anymore, we will find a way out much easier.”

I guess she isn’t the one who has brought us here, if it even was someone.

“Let me come with you, we might find our way out quicker.”

I look at her flames and nod.

“My child, how were you able to see me, if you can’t see anything else?” The old woman asks questioningly.

Before I can answer, the girl does it for me: “She keeps saying that she sees the flames in other’s eyes. Still it’s probably just-“

“So you can see the flames of other people’s souls?” The older woman doesn’t allow the girl to continue.

I shrug: “I don’t know… it’s probably just all in my head. I’ve never seen anything like that in my ordinary life outside of this place.”

“Here’s a mirror. Can you hold it by yourself?” The old woman shoves a cold and heavy object in my hands, almost having me slip it out of my hands. Hurting my fingers to keep it steady.

I try to look at it, but there is no reflection of my own flames, if I even have them.

“Well, do you see them?” the lady asks, way too enthusiastic.

I shake my head and answer with a plain: “No.”

Both of them take a stand next to me, probably looking in the mirror.

Then I see something inside of it.

The flames.

Their flames.

So… I don’t have them?

Could it be that… I’m soulless?

“So? What do you see?”

“I see nothing, but the reflection of yours.” I answer honestly.

“That’s unfortunate.” The woman says, sounding deep in thought: “Could it be… that you had a not so fortunate life?”

As I remain quiet, she apologises: “I’m sorry, it’s not my place to ask such questions. But if you need someone to listen to you, I’m more than willing to help you lighten that burden of yours.”

“Thanks.” I say, though slightly annoyed. I don’t like people poking into my problems.

The old woman leads us through the hallways, making sure, neither I nor the girl end up falling over something.

“You two should be thankful that you can’t truly see this place. Something horrible has taken place here.”

“I see.” I answer coolly.

“Don’t be like that!” The girl starts panicking.

The woman laughs joylessly: “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“Why did you have to say that? Now I can only imagine all the shapes as dead bodies.”

The woman remains quiet.

So that must be the case.

Still, there don’t seem to be enough to cover the entire floor. Since the older lady is able to guide us through them so well.

“Gosh, this seems to be a dead end.” The woman sighs.

“Really?! I don’t want to go back there!” The girl cries out.

Carefully I let go of the girl’s hand, something has taken my attention.

There is something shining dimly straight ahead of me, it’s unlike the flames of my two companions.

Somehow friendly and familiar.

“What’s over there?” I ask while straying away from the others.

“You shouldn’t go there!” The girl calls out, but even though her voice sounds terrified, I don’t listen.

I feel like the light is calling me.

“My child! You shouldn’t venture there!” The old woman calls out to me, her ancient voice trembling in anguish: “Terrible things have happened there!”.

But I ignore her as well.

I feel myself walking into something like a puddle, too thick to be water, but I decide not to think about it.

The light is getting closer and closer, brighter and brighter.

“Ma’am, please get back here!”

“You’ll hurt yourself if you continue!”

I feel something sharp digging itself into my right leg.

Quickly I kneel down to push whatever it is away, but it starts digging deeper into it.

It hurts.

It hurts so fucking much!

Every time I try to reach it, my hands seem to slip away, whatever I’m standing in is way too thick to be just water.

Don’t think about it.

Don’t think about it!!!

As I’m finally able to take out whatever it is, I notice that little lights are dropping down.

I try to look at what I believe to be up, only to find out that the small lights are coming from me.

I smirk, I guess I’m not soulless after all.

I hear both women behind me yell at me to return, screaming for the fear I might get hurt or lose my life.

I don’t pay it any attention and continue.

The light I see behind that door.

My own tears seem to be leading me there as well, dropping quietly without sound, slowly they turn dark like everything around me, just showing small pieces of my path.

I reach out my arm for the light.

But instead of holding something warm, it’s something cold.

It’s an old door handle.

Very, very old. Something I would expect to find inside an ancient castle.

As I hold it, all the light fades once more and I open the door.

The machine that brought the dead back to life

The continueation and final part of a story I wrote.

Word count: 2151

TW: Death and cursing

A sudden shock awakens Drew and he opens his eyes, only to find himself inside some sort of machine.

The space is small and he almost can't move anything, turning around is out of the question.

Luckily since he's used to working in cramped spaces, he's able to keep himself calm.

His head seems to be in a fog, he doesn't remember what happened to get him inside the big object.

Carefully he tries to move his arms, but not much happens, he is completely confined within the machine.

After a while of trying not to panic Drew hears a strange mechanical hissing sound.

It's the door.

The door is opening.

In the opening stands a man in rags with a zombie-like look on his face, suddenly he grabs Drew by his arm and hisses in his ear: "Act like the rest or you'll be dead."

At first Drew doesn't understand at all, but as he looks around he sees in the dark many people moving around almost robotically.

All of the people are working.

Drew quickly looks back at the machine he came from.

It takes a second, but then it dawns at him...

He had been revived.

Trying to remain calm he follows the man before him, trying to take the same slow dead steps.

He thinks of Clara, who must be grieving terribly right now. The reason for him being here must be because she wasn't able to pay for the revival fee.

The day or perhaps the night, there's really no way to know, starts horribly.

People looking like old corpses are walking like slaves with other machines keeping watch if they're working good enough.

Drew is forced to work on broken machinery without break, being monitored almost non-stop.

Thankfully he does quite well, since he has been chosen to do a job he had done last he had been awake.

As the moment finally arrives that the security weakens and no camera's look at Drew, he is completely exhausted.

He feels a hand on his shoulder, it's the man that had warned him before.

"Hey buddy, you gotta keep going, if you don't want to die that is."

"What is this? Why are they doing this?" Drew almost begs the man to answer his questions.

"Once pronounced dead, your rights as a human being are lost. You will be nothing more than an object, a slave. We are supposed to come in here as mindless, but some of us, like you and me, come with one still intact."

"This is a different machine than the one used on the commercials, right?"

The strange man laughs: "Of course, you think people would write a good review if they were to wake up in a dump like this? This place is for those that are too poor or have relatives that don't want them anymore, but the people here are chosen because of having certain skills."

"Skills? Do the mindless even possess those?"

"Bare fractions, but that's all they need. A person's build can also go a long way."

As the monitors return they quickly get back to their work again and after a while Drew learns that the dead down here really don't get any rest.

Still he tries his best, causing him to almost faint.

Slowly it gets even darker before his eyes and he feels himself stagger and the ground seems to be dragging him closer.

Just in time, the strange man pulls him up and hands him something.

"Get up buddy, if you fall now, we're both fucked."

Drew takes the object closer to his face and recognizes it as old bread.

He takes a bite and swallows.

It's absolutely disgusting, but it helps him to continue again.

"How long have you been here?" Drew asks as they have a moment to talk.

"Not so long either."

"Then do you know how you died?"

"Not sure..." The man hesitates for a moment: "But from what I heard, this damned company sometimes picks people and sends others after them to kill them. I believe that at least happened to you."

"What, why?"

"You can't see it right now, but you had a really big scar on your back. They don't patch us up as good as the people who pay for it."

Drew doesn't remember what happened, one moment he had been working and the other he had woken up inside the machine. This information of him possibly being murdered strikes him hard.

"I need to get out of here." He mumbles.

"Don't we all?"

"If I don't they might kill her too."

"You got someone, buddy?"

"My wife, she works here."

"On the bottom I presume?"

"Yeah..."

"Well that explains it then."

"What do you mean?"

"Why were you picked?"

"Do you mean to say that they screened everything about her? And all the people in her life?"

"Yeah..."

Drew firmly places a hand on the man's shoulder: "Just how do you know all this information?"

"Buddy, let go."

"I want to know!"

"Buddy, you're hurting me."

"Just answer me, please!"

The man sighs: "I used to work at the top. I was one of those fuckers at the top. One that could see the sun rise, one that could see above the smog."

"Then why are you here?"

"You really want to know everything, don't you?"

Drew grips the strangers shoulder even harder.

"Ouch! Damnit, I fucked up you know! I didn't agree to their shit!"

Drew lets the man go.

"Thank you." He says annoyed.

"I'm going to get out of here." Drew says while picking up something he things that might be useful as a weapon.

"You're going to get yourself killed going like that."

"Better than dying here. If you want me to survive, maybe you could help."

Defeated, the man sighs: "Fine, then I will."

"So what are we going to do?" Drew asks, some of his old energy returning.

"We have to carefully follow the red lights."

Both drop their work and start their plan to escape.

It doesn't take long for an alarm to sound, the camera's must have noticed that they've left.

Thus the two start running.

As strange looking robots get closer and closer the two men finally reach a door, the strange man opens it and pushes Drew through it.

"You better get her to safety, buddy." The man says and closes the door immediately.

For a moment Drew stands unable to do anything, he had no time to thank the man before and now it was too late.

As his mind finally starts to process everything he decides that he can't do it all alone.

When he rushes outside the building, he notices that it is morning.

But even though the sun is out, seeing it through the thick smog is difficult.

People rush past him to go to work, like none know of what takes place beneath the big company that grants wishes.

Drew hurries home, but as he arrives, notices that Clara has already left for work. He stops for a moment to see hate mail on the floor.

The mail must have been sent by those that knew about his passing.

Drew picks them up and throws them in the trash, might be nice for starting a fire later.

Maybe he can get help at the workshop?

He runs to the place he worked just before he died.

The door is closed and gravity has been sprayed all over the walls.

Vile words are written on the walls, did the boss take Clara's side?

Drew tries to open the door, but it seems to be locked.

He knocks.

No answer.

He knocks again, this time louder.

Then the door finally opens, the boss appears, at first he doesn't notice and wants to ask if he came to harass him, but then he looks up and recognizes Drew.

He takes his arm and almost drags him inside.

"Drew? How can that be you? You look horrible."

Drew starts to explain everything that he knows.

It takes a while, making Drew tumble over his words, trying to get it all out at the same time.

When he finally finishes he says: "So I have to go get her now!"

"Drew, you just came back to life. Please, be careful."

"I'm sorry sir, but I can't, they probably already know that I was the one who left after all. I can't stay here too long. They might even come after you if they know that you kept me here for a while. You sided with Clara, didn't you?"

The older man on the other side of the table sighs in despair and old grief: "Don't let yourself get killed again, son."

The boss turns around to see if he can find Drew something to use as a weapon, but as he hears the front door open and close again, he knows that it is too late.

Drew finally reaches the building again, trying to rush and hide at the same time to get inside quickly and efficiently.

People do tend to stare at him, probably because of old clothes and the fact that even though he's been revived, he still doesn't look much different from a corpse. Possibly a side-effect by the machine at the bottom.

Drew opens door after door to find the room in which his beloved should be working.

A lady walks up to him, asking: "Sir can I help you?" She looks like a normal employee.

"Clara, have you seen her?"

She shakes her head: "Not since she was sent downstairs."

Drew glances at an old staircase that is mostly dark, too dark to see the floor below it.

"Thanks." He mumbles and continues down further.

He rips open a door not knowing if it's the right one.

It shows a big grey room, lighted by white ceiling lights and the many blue screens on the many desks.

At a glance some of the people here look close to dying themselves.

But something else is wrong with the room.

Something very wrong.

Perhaps it looks too clean?

Drew starts to look around, looking for Clara.

The illusion gets shattered the moment Drew accidently pushes a button.

A short glitch appears, like a flash all disappears.

The room is not clean at all, there is even a small layer of water covering the ground.

Drew can see something that looks like a bridge without handrails and on it he sees her.

"Clara!!" He yells at his beloved: "Clara, get away from there!" Blindly he rushes towards her, but it is too late.

She falls, plunging into the murky water that embraces her with its cold deepness.

Without a second of hesitation Drew jumps after her, uncaring of the coldness of the water.

He sinks after her, but loses sight of her quickly.

As he finally reaches what he believes to be the bottom, he frantically searches for her.

With his hands he feels around, but feels a strange object lying underneath his feet.

Unable to hold his breath any longer he swims to the surface and climbs onto the platform.

Even though the illusion is gone, there are still people typing away at the computers, still working even though they should be able to see the real working conditions.

Drew runs up to one of them and pulls them close: "Where are the lights?! Any lights, flashlights, I don't care!"

Panic has wrapped its claws around the desperate man's throat, almost choking him, as is to kill him again.

Unfortunately the yelling doesn't help getting the worker out of his state, only staring blankly at Drew or perhaps through him, unable to see him at all.

Angry Drew tosses the worker aside and starts searching on his own again, quickly opening random drawers without closing them.

As he wants to kick something a hand gets placed on his shoulder: "Here son, use this."

It's the boss of the workshop, handing him an old flashlight, he must have come after him.

Drew takes it saying a quick thanks and uses a useless fire-extinguisher to sink faster to the bottom.

The old flashlight luckily seems to work underwater, it doesn't show much, but it does so for the bare minimum.

As Drew reaches what he believes to be the bottom, he quickly puts his hand before his mouth to stop himself from choking on the water trying to invade his lungs.

This is not the bottom at all.

As Drew slowly moves the flashlight to look around he slowly shines it on many corpses that lie around.

Some new, some almost entirely bones.

It's a pile.

So many people.

And if Drew isn't fast enough, Clara will join them forever.

Slower than he wants to he swims closely to the bodies, trying his best to find his beloved, made worse by the look of all the dead down there.

The water is still murky, but Drew has an idea of where Clara could be.

Soon he finds himself at a deeper hole, one with less bodies.

Using the fire-extinguisher he tries to get to the botom quicker.

.

.

.

Then he finally finds her.

She seems almost deadly pale, almost like she has already joined those deep down.

Swiftly he takes her in his arms and lets go of the heavy object, causing them to slowly rise up again.

As they finally reach the surface, Drew's boss is already awaiting them helping them up.

"Son, what took you so long?"

Drew, completely out of breath, tries to explain: "All... are... all are dead... down there..."

"What do you mean?"

Drew shakes his head: "Please... please, save her."

Clara has gone awfully cold and doesn't seem to be breathing anymore.

Both men feel at a loss, until at the same time they know one way to get her back again.

Just ignore it

One of the first stories I posted on wattpad.

On there I'm at 71 short horror stories right now, I'm not sure if I will ever post all of the stories I wrote before on tumblr, but here is one.

Word count: 1105

TW: Psychological horror

I look up at the old school building, just for a second I see the cracks. The surrounding plants around it have started growing inside. Some of the windows are broken.

The broken bell goes off and it almost sounds like a muffled scream.

I quickly go inside.

Inside the right classroom I take a seat at my table, it is a scratched old table with graffiti, not done by me.

Slowly the classroom fills with my 'classmates', these dolls with keys in their backs. They enter with their rattling keys and stiff movements. Opening and closing their wooden mouths, like they are talking to one another. I can't hear them, but I'm not interested anyway.

Lastly, the 'teacher' enters leaving its books on the desk and 'starting the lesson'.

I don't care to listen to the clacking of its mouth. It doesn't matter anyway, ignoring is for the best and pretending.

At some point the 'teacher' points at me and stops.

Carefully I stand and walk towards it, followed by the empty stares of the other painted wooden faces.

It is quiet.

It has always been quiet.

My 'teacher' seems to have stopped working, so I stand behind it and gently turn it's key until it starts working again.

Then just as quietly as before, I return to my seat.

I stare out of the window, without actually observing what is happening. Well nothing is happening really. Nothing ever is.

Just nature taking over this school, this empty building.

Even during break I just stare outside, while those dolls are clacking to each other.

If I go anywhere the dolls will be mean to me, they will sometimes throw things at me or clack mean things about me. So it is better just to remain in one place. They are defective.

I return home without looking back.

I live in an old dollhouse, it's almost completely empty and always silent.

I love the silence.

I enjoy the emptiness.

The rest of the house is just like the city with plants growing everywhere, inside and outside the buildings.

All buildings are slowly breaking apart and I just ignore it.

It's all fake anyway.

It's all useless anyway.

Nothing matters here, just that I do what I have to do and return 'home'.

The next day when I go to 'school', something strange happens.

The 'teacher' introduces a new 'classmate', another doll.

With a key and a painted face, just like any other.

It takes the empty seat next to me.

The new student seems to try to get my attention, but I just start doodling in my workbooks. Pretending I don't see or hear her.

The day passes by quite quickly, and I return to my old dollhouse.

I walk up the creaking stairs and past the rotting woodwork.

In my room I stare out of the hole in the roof, at the dark, starless abyss, most people call the sky.

And just like always, another day has passed.

The next day I do the same as all the previous days.

Stare out of the window, turn a key and return to my seat.

Then lunch comes around.

The new student is getting more annoying.

It has even started jumping in front of me to get my attention, which made the other dolls clack their mouths like they were laughing.

It's becoming more and more difficult.

Then suddenly it locks it's wooden hands around my wrist.

No matter how hard I struggle, It won't let me go.

Then it started walking and I am forced to follow.

We go up to the rooftop.

"I need you to listen." The voice coming out of the doll sounds vaguely human.

While blocking the only exit, it let's go of my wrist.

What does this thing want from me? None of them ever try to contact me as long as I ignore them, why does this one do?

The new student puts a hand under its chin, then a short click could be heard.

She removes her face, I guess she was wearing a mask.

I look at her face, her nose, her eyes, her eyebrows... Everything about her looks too familiar.

She looks like...

me...

Why does she look like me?

"I need to speak with you, please listen." She pleads with my voice.

I don't like where this is going and I take a step back. She doesn't seem to mind though.

"I need you to start looking around you and not ignore everything."

I remain silent.

"Remember what the doctor told us, about the ignoring of bullies and unfortunate situations? Well he was wrong."

I stay quiet and stare past her at the door, so close yet so far away. I just want to ignore her and continue my day.

"You can't ignore everything, you've already done that too much. You need help. You need to tell others about what's going on and learn not to just take everything."

So annoying.

"I don't care... I can just ignore it." I mumble to myself.

"Please don't." the other me pleads, her eyes starting to look red and watery.

I don't answer and take a few steps closer to the door.

"No you can't leave!" She yells.

I glare at her: "You're not supposed to exist. The doctor wasn't the only one who told me to just ignore it. Everything is better this way."

Defeated, she moves aside, her head hanging down: "S-so it has already gone this far... I see, it really is too late."

In silence I continue towards the door.

As my hand brushes the door handle she suddenly seems to want to give it one more try: "This whole city will collapse on top of us! It will kill us!"

"Then let it collapse. I can't go back to the time, when I still observed, when I still listened and I still felt everything. That time was hell. It was worse than death."

"But it is not too late. You can still get the help you need, before your world will collapse!"

"I don't want it."

I shove her aside and return to class.

The classroom looks more in disrepair than before we left, but I ignore it.

As school continues on, more cracks start appearing and I haven't seen the other me since I left her.

She probably won't return.

She must have left.

Given up entirely.

Well it's not like she could change my mind or anything.

She has no power over this place, unlike me.

I don't want to leave this place.

Yes, it's empty and it's lonely.

It might all be breaking apart, but this is my only safe haven. My own place of peace and quiet.

My own safe little world.

When the teacher stops working while pointing it's finger at me again, I turn the key on his back and return to my seat.

See, it all works perfectly fine.

I'm perfectly fine.

Nothing is wrong.

As long as I just ignore it all

And then at last the cracked walls can't hold the ceiling anymore.

I can hear its creaking.

But like always... I just ignore it.

Book of the apocalypse

I've recently started posting a new book I'm writing on wattpad and I was wondering if there are people who might be interested in me posting it here on tumblr.

The story is about someone trying to survive on their own in a zombie apocalypse and ends up finding themself drawn to a book they find.

Anyway here are the prologue and the first chapter, please let me know what you think:

TW: Gore, psycological horror, spiders, depressing theme's

Word count: 673(prologue)+1800(Chapter 1)

It's dark.

An oppressive silence prevails.

Only to those who live close to the ground, a loud rhythmic noise can be heard.

This is of course exclusive for those like mice and creatures much smaller.

Creatures with a good sense of hearing.

To a cat or a dog it might still be audible, though they would probably only hear a soft tapping.

Something tapping across the floor at an almost unearthly speed.

Driven by something unknown to any breathing kind.

Yet somehow able to scare away those creatures with incredible hearing.

The tapping is the true sound of doom.

The ticking across the floor clearly means nothing less than death.

The tapping is that of many small insects.

Insects moving strangely in unison.

Insects all move in the same manner, as if not multiple but just one creature.

The ticking races onto a metal shelf and stops there for about a second.

To those with the good ears, they might catch something sounding closely like something's scraping the metal.

Or better... something eating the cold metal.

If you were to hold a light there and perhaps something like a microscope, you might spot some of the small scratches made on the metallic surface. Since they are so difficult to spot.

As the second passed the small insects continue their journey once more.

A loud noise can be registered by them, vibrations can be felt and they immediately stop in their tracks.

A person, a human, has come into the room.

Loudly to the insects, quietly to the human.

His heart makes the loudest, yet calmest noise.

A noise of comfort.

The man does not care or know that he's being watched.

He turns on a light and the insects start sprinting towards him.

The light shows what they are.

Their truest nature.

Small spiders, about half an inch per length, excluding their many thin legs.

The legs that made the tapping noise.

Small red eyes, seemingly scanning their surroundings effortlessly in high speed.

But the light shows something else about them.

Something else that is wrong.

They are in fact not any natural kind of spiders.

They're mechanical.

The light turns them into small flashes of silver.

If you were to inspect them up close with a magnifying glass, you might even spot very tiny screws and threads across their bodies.

The spiders leap and like some of the kind they're meant to represent, they almost seem to be able to fly.

The man has noticed them now too, but far too late.

The small man-made insects have already landed on his bare forearms.

He quickly tries to remove them with his big hands, which he is successful with only a few.

About two thirds are still on him and have decided to dig themselves into the skin of their prey.

The man yells for help and another one comes, just in time for those who had fallen back on the floor.

For some strange reason, there seem to be more of them now, it's like the spiders have copied themselves many times over. Perhaps with the help of the metal they had been 'eating' before.

The first man can feel the spiders move underneath his skin, climbing and digging their way further up his body.

Looking closer you should be able to see them move as little lumps through his flesh, they don't go too deep, well not at first at least.

Further and further they go.

They have a mission.

At least if you could call it that.

Crawling further without a moment of rest, almost oblivious to the panicking man trying to stab them with the help of a knife.

An ambulance has already been called and is on its way.

Too late, too late.

The small spiders make their way into his neck.

Mercilessly they continue.

As they finally reach their goal.

The head.

The brain.

Now they do dig deeper and deeper.

All the small spiders secretly and silently communicate to one another strange messages, such as: 'OUT OF CONTROL HUMAN' and 'ERROR'.

They had been made in order to help human beings, but ended up being the defining factor of their decline and deaths.

The spiders all drugged and changed people so much that they turned into nothing more than zombies.

Devouring the flesh of others without a hint of sadness.

The minds of these people were lost completely.

Chapter 1:

Grass.

Buildings.

Cars.

More grass.

Plants.

Metal.

What are these called again?

It's morning.

I'm thinking about words.

Thinking in words... it's been getting more and more difficult.

Am I going to lose them?

Train racks...?

No, train tracks! Those are train tracks!

It's morning and I'm living.

I'm alive... I think.

I'm alone.

There was something about mornings... right?

People counted them?

Back in the old times... I think.

Now mankind has long stopped counting the years.

If there even is something I can call mankind.

For all I know they have all but me died out, leaving me alone in this dark and dangerous world. The only one who can protect me is myself.

The only reliable one in this world is myself.

The only one making sure I don't end up like one of the monsters, is again myself.

Even with the fact that the world has practically ended for my kind, the sun still rises and after a while, it goes down again.

If you want to know how this all started, you're asking the wrong person.

Because I don't care.

Surviving till the next day is the only thing left on my agenda.

Even though dying might seem nice, becoming one of those things would be horrible.

I glance out of the window from the old train, watching the rising sun, all the while clutching the handle of my spear.

I made the thing myself so it's pretty shabby looking, but at least it does the job right and keeps the monsters at a distance.

Quietly and swiftly I leave the dark, abandoned vehicle.

If I stay here any longer they might find out after all.

Vigilantly I follow the tracks to the station, ready to fight or flight at any moment.

Those hungry bastards aren't getting me for dinner!

I won't be their prize nor the one they might see as a hero.

Though I highly doubt that they are able to either 'see' or 'think'.

As I walk into the broken down, but still dark train station I notice that even though it's in a bad shape. It still has some beauty in it.

It's an old train station, most of the part that has collapsed is the newer, later build-on part.

The old part is still standing strong.

Yes, most of the stained glass is broken, but the ornamented walls are still clearly visible.

Somehow giving me this really nostalgic feeling, to a time unknown to me.

I shake my head, It's not the time to be in awe with old junk, it's all useless now after all.

Making sure that nothing is around, I climb onto one of the platforms.

As I wander around I suddenly notice a strange object on one of the still intact benches.

Somehow it draws my complete attention, I cannot help myself but to investigate it.

I hold my spear before me, so if it moves, I can kill it immediately.

Step by step I get closer.

Is it dangerous?

Is it edible?

A million wordless questions race around in my mind, but none of them ask the right one.

Carefully I take the object in hand.

It's a book, my inner voice tells me.

It's a leather bound book.

Old, but still intact.

Without thinking I open it.

Not even the spiders have taken it, that's weird.

As I see the first page, something is hand-written on the bottom. It takes a moment to understand what it says: 'EX Libris: Q. F. Shannon'

This must have been the name of the previous owner.

I wonder what happened to them.

Though that is completely unimportant.

I turn a couple of pages and find more small black words scribbled on them in a strange form of...writing.

They make me feel... lightheaded... that's the word... right?

Suddenly I sense a presence behind me.

I take out my weapon and attack whatever is standing there.

Somehow it goes right through...

I can feel my heart pumping quickly.

Cold sweat slowly makes its way down my neck and back.

"Good morning." A strange voice out of nowhere says to me.

It's... speaking... human speech...

It's speaking to me.

Shocked by the sound, the voice of another human being, for the first time in a long, very long while, I turn around and point at them with my spear.

It's a strange person, wearing some kind of old and strange costume. One from the lost time.

Without speaking I threaten them with my weapon.

They are unlike me.

My spear should have hurt them... but it went right through!

I can't trust them!

I can't trust them!!

Distrust washes over me.

How could someone still be alive?

And be dressed like that?!

"Please, I mean no harm." The person says while holding up their arms

I don't answer and only stare at them with contempt.

Only now I've noticed that I've dropped the book as the person is looking at it.

Have the spiders evolved this much? Or have I finally lost my mind?

I swallow, scared of what to do next.

The thing before me tries to comfort me: "I'm not real."

"What... does that... mean?" I ask, having difficulty speaking, hurting my throat in the process of creating words.

The creature nods: "I'm imaginary. I'm simply something you made up. An Imaginary friend if you will."

Friend...?

What did that mean again?

Something about that word makes me agitated.

Something about that word makes me angry.

Something about that word makes me want to cry.

Something about that word makes me want to scream...

"Don't... You aren't that... I don't think..." I mumble.

They smile at me: "Well then, I'm Quiller. You may call me that or just mister or... something else, if my name is too difficult."

He looks at me as if waiting for an answer, but I don't.

"So what is your name?"

I think.

I think deeply.

At first I'm not sure what he means by the word 'name'.

Then a bad memory fills my head and just in time I'm able to shake it away.

It's been a long time since I had something of a name.

I remember that I was called something too, it was normal back in the day.

Back when there were still other people in the world.

I press my hand against my chest "...Don." I whisper: "I was called... that... I think."

Quiller gives me another smile: "That's a wonderful name, nice to make your acquaintance." He stretches out a hand and I stare at it.

"You... are supposed to shake it..." He says as he scratches the back of his neck with his other hand.

"Shake? But won't... it go through?"

His expression turns to one of pain: "Yeah, sorry. You're right." He takes back his hand.

I take the book from the ground.

"That looks interesting." He sounds surprised.

"I found it, it's mine." For some reason I'm clutching the heavy object against my chest as if it's my long lost treasure. Honestly I don't know why. But it feels like... I have to keep it with me.

"So you're going to read it?"

I skim through the pages, they're made of paper.

"It...would make for a good fire-starter."

Quiller's expression turns horrified: "Wait, no! You can't do that!"

"Why?"

"It holds someone's memory!"

"Memory?"

"Yes, every book is written by someone. They write it with their love, their hate, their life, their passion, their dreams. Never take another person's work too light."

Gibberish he seems to speak.

"Are you... one of them?" I ask nudging back somewhere.

He sighs: "No, of course not. Have I been trying to eat you since I met you?"

I just stare at him confused.

He takes another look at the book: "I... think I know that book."

I look at him questioningly.

"Maybe you should try to read it, it has a pretty good story. You can read, yes?"

"I'm able to read ingredients from food."

He laughs awkwardly: "Well that's a start..."

Without much care I put the book in my backpack and I continue my search.

It feels strange to have someone that at least seems to be real and walking close by, especially since he doesn't seem to be hostile in any way shape or form. What most things are.

I will keep a close eye on him, I don't really understand why I'm seeing him and I don't have another person like me here to check if I'm really making it all up in my mind.

It really does seem like the most reality-based explanation right now, I've been alone for a long time now.

I vaguely remember a story about someone befriending an object to stay sane after being alone for a very long time. It is said to be normal when someone is lonely.

But even so, is that really the case right now?

While scouting out the area, it suddenly starts to rain outside.

I guess I have no other choice but to stay the night.

As we walk into the inside part of the station I suddenly notice a couple of them, standing closely to the rooms that once had probably been stores.

Their bodies made of a combination of rotting flesh, metal wiring and some of them have something like mos growing over their heads and shoulders. Water slowly dripping from their horrible monsterous bodies.

Luckily they're standing far away, staring into space and not having noticed me yet.

Sometimes they shake in the strange way they usually do and return to staring.

It reminds me a bit of how they used to be when all of this started, back then they were out to kill every last human. Back then they rarely stood this still.

I guess since most people have died, they don't have much to do anymore, so staring is probably the only thing they can do.

Staring and standing.

It makes me wonder if they think...

No, that can't be true.

Monsters like that must be unable to think, if they do it must be about devouring the innocent and weak.

"Hey."Quiller whispers: "You should probably head the other way, they don't look very nice."

They don't look very nice? Is he oblivious to what happened? Does he not know?

Didn't he mention knowing of it before though? Well I should ask him later.

Now is not the time.

I tiptoe away from the creatures, making sure not to make a single sound.

When it all went down, I taught myself a new way of walking which was a lot quieter than how I used to.

Now it's second nature to me, I don't walk any other way now.

Well, okay, if I have to run, I run and sound doesn't really matter if there is something out there that wants to rip you apart.

I take the stairs to the second floor, scanning my surroundings thoroughly.

More old, empty shops and a lookout onto the platforms and surrounding area.

"Do you think I could go further up?" I ask the strangely clothed man.

"Well yeah, this building is old and even has a clock-tower. Maybe we should try getting in there?"

I nod approving, maybe he might be useful after all.

It doesn't take long for us to find a small hidden passageway.

"It should be through here." Quiller says to me.

I look at the narrow door in the ceiling and shake my head.

I hate small spaces, I would rather get there by climbing from the outside.

I look outside but am only greeted by the heavy rainfall, it's almost like the clouds are laughing at me.

Laughing at the fact that I'm scared.

And I hate them for it.

Next chapter:

The puppet master

A short horror story I wrote.

Word count: 777 (Lucky number:) )

TW: Body horror, psychological horror & gore

The room is dark.

Is it even really a room?

I don't know.

But there are stage lights, so it's probably a room.

The stage lights are for my puppet show.

I control all here.

I am the puppet master here.

An invisible jester.

A magician without a wand.

And a wordless storyteller.

It's a magical show and I am the one in control of the puppets.

It is a show about life and a show about death.

A show of the fortunate.

A show of the unfortunate.

An everyday story.

An awesome adventure.

Out of all the puppets, there is one in peculiar, that I have the most control over. It is also the one that takes the most out of me.

There is a crimson thread coming out of each of my fingers, like that of the veins in a body.

Maybe they are my veins.

I don't know, it's not important.

Four parts of the legs, two of the arms, one for the body, one for the neck, one for the head and one for the facial emotions.

I, of course am also able to control the others to a certain extent, their crimson threads are bound to my own arms, legs and neck.

Maybe we are alike.

It might look a little silly, but even so my control over them is almost flawless.

This is going to be another great show.

This is going to be another great day.

Another hope for applause.

Another hope for approval.

In this room, where the audience goes unseen and the light only shines on my puppet show.

Honestly I'm not sure if there even really is an audience, but it doesn't matter.

No time.

The show starts.

And the curtains rise.

The protagonist wakes up and gets ready for its work.

As the public watches the puppet moving as if it was alive, I can hear some gasps.

Did I really?

Perfect, it is all going smoothly.

After a long day being overworked it returns home for a late dinner.

It decides to watch tv.

The crowd seems to have gotten bored. Maybe I should let something weird happen the next day.

At night the protagonist stares up at the ceiling, wishfully hoping for change in its repetitive and stressful life.

I can show this without sound, without words. Just the movements, lights and the face.

Some audience members seem to relate.

Isn't this all just in my head?

The next morning, the same routine starts.

It is stressing me out, I can hear their dissatisfaction.

Continuing, something happens at work.

Something bad.

The protagonist is treated worse than before.

The audience seems to be more interested in the plot now.

This problem seems to be getting worse and worse by day and yet the protagonist bottles it all up.

I let it seem like it has been bottling things up, it is a puppet after all. It doesn't have feelings.

Now I'm planning for the protagonist to make a heroic comeback, because that's what my audience loves after all.

A new day and more anticipation than before, because this might be the day and if not, it will most definitely be the day after.

The protagonist meets the bully.

Not yet, please not yet. Later is better, later is good...

Then suddenly a thread snaps.

It is the one controlling the emotions.

Voiceless I scream.

It hurts.

It hurts.

It hurts really bad.

Blood is pouring out of the thread, turning it gray.

So it was a vein?

The empty darkness is shocked.

This is not heroic at all!

As I try to grasp for control, I lose it all.

One by one they snap, leaving me in anguish.

So much pain.

All threads turn grey.

Yet I can't scream or cry.

The public starts booing.

They are already bored, they wanted a hero.

They wanted an interesting story.

A totally unique story.

A story they could relate to, but also making them feel better.

A story so strange, but also so normal.

Real and fake.

I need to change something.

I need to do something!

But then after my puppet has started yelling and hitting the others, the other threads snap.

The threads of the others.

Blood is everywhere and I have gotten numb from the pain.

The audience is disgusted by the sight of the bloody battlefield, that is the small stage.

My puppet show is ruined.

After all the other puppets have been ripped apart, 'my' puppet turns around to face me.

It's face filled with broken emotions.

It is broken.

They are broken.

Slowly the protagonist walks my way.

Were they always this tall?

Was the size just an illusion?

Maybe it is magic...

Step by step they get closer.

Each step sounding more human than the last.

The protagonist is approaching and I have nothing to defend myself with.

No weapons.

Not even words.

I only have the broken threads, the threads that were supposed to control everything.

I look to my sides for help.

Only the ignoring darkness stares at me.

Watching, blind eyed.

I wasn't good enough.

I'm not real.

It seems I was the puppet all along.

The only 'it' in this play was me.

Book cover I made

This is a book cover I made for a book I finished writing last month.

If you were to find this within a bookstore, what would your thoughts be? What do you think it's about?