The Machine That Brought The Dead Back To Life

23:37

Here is another short horror story I wrote:)

TW: Gore, eyegore

How long has it been now?

5 years?

Or 15?

I honestly can't remember.

But I do know that it has been a while.

I really don't know where the time went since I started working at this hospital.

I'm a doctor here.

Not too good, but not too bad either.

Average really.

Really average.

But even so, seemingly needed.

Many people who start working here leave not too long after, but I stayed.

"Are you still feeling up for it? The night shift, I mean?"

The voice of the hospital director takes me out of my head.

"Sure." I mumble.

He turns his back to me: "Great! I knew I could always rely on you."

I nod and leave the room.

I am a bit tired, but some more coffee will probably get rid of that feeling.

Right, back to work! I think to myself, a bit less energetic than I had hoped.

I'm usually the one who gets the shifts the others can't do.

Though I really could have seen this one coming.

And working overtime has become rather normal.

As I quickly drink from my small cup of coffee, I rush to the room I need to go to.

While I pass two nurses on my way there I catch a few words.

"Is he doing it again?"

"I think so, maybe he should just leave."

"Yeah, or there might be more mistakes than usual."

I know that they are talking about me and I want to turn around to tell them that I can hear them, but stop myself just in time.

It doesn't matter anyway, if I say something, it won't change anything.

I really need to get going.

I do my shift like usual, I rather take my time with each patient then go fast through my list. This does unfortunately cost me my break, but then again I usually skip those, so it doesn't matter.

Time ticks by slowly and before I know it, the darkness has swallowed the outside world whole, only leaving some lights.

As I enter one of the patients rooms I greet them and take a seat next to the bed.

While listening to their problems, my attention suddenly goes over to the tv.

The pale blue light shows a news reporter.

The words 'URGENTS NEWS' in red light attract my attention.

Something about a virus? If I get it right.

"Doctor? Are you still listening?"

"Ah, yes, sorry. What were you saying?" Embarrassed I look through the list, avoiding eye contact, they luckily continue.

When I've listened to everyone in the room I get up and ready myself to leave.

I turn around one last time.

Wasn't there a tv in the room?

Maybe someone took it away...

Walking to my next stop I can suddenly hear others whisper.

"It was all his fault right?"

"That his patient died? Yeah, it is."

"That's awful."

"I wonder who is going to be next."

"If you ask me, he really failed his job as a doctor."

"Why do they even allow him to continue this work?"

I clench my fist, I really should just ignore it, but it's just too difficult now.

When that accident happened, they didn't do anything to help me or to stand by me.

They only use me to not get blamed themselves!

My thoughts don't matter and the whispering continues, getting only meaner, cutting deeper into my skin.

"Oh, will you please shut it?!"

I ask angry as I turn around.

But there is no one.

The whispering has stopped too.

Do I hear someone walk away?

Never mind, I should get back to work.

As I enter the next room, I'm greeted by an older man who is still awake.

I take a seat next to his bed and start our conversation.

After a while I suddenly notice that something has appeared on his right cheek.

"What's that?" I ask pointing at it.

"Is there something on my face?" He asks, a bit frightened from my seriousness.

I lean forward to take a closer look.

It looks red and swollen.

There is a strange stripe.

Suddenly it opens.

It's an eye.

It looks at me.

It stares into me.

It judges me.

It calls me a failure.

Then I remember what I had seen on the tv before.

A virus.

This must be it.

"Doctor? What's wrong?" The man asks, shaken.

"Don't worry." I say without looking away from the eye in his cheek.

"You will be in need of another examination."

I try to stay as calm as possible and rush him to the ER.

I call over some of my other colleagues who say they will come help me soon.

"What's going on?" asks the man with panic in his voice.

"You're sick." I say calmly

Suddenly my vision changes, it's almost like watching an old movie too close to the screen. My senses are gone.

The doctor notices the spreading of the eyes.

"I need to stop it, immediately." He mumbles as he takes the scalpel from the white table.

Calmly he lowers it closer to the biggest eye.

"I just need to remove it."

He knows that he should wait for the others, but they are taking their sweet time to get there.

"W-what are you doing with t-that?" The man almost starts to cry.

"Don't worry, I will save you." The doctor answers with a kind smile.

The scalpel gets closer and closer.

With one swoop he takes out the eye.

Blood flies around the room coloring it from white to red.

He can't hear his patients screams of anguish and just continues removing the eyes.

After a while his patient doesn't move anymore.

Did he fall asleep?

The door opens and the doctor's colleagues enter.

"W-what the hell happened here?" One of them asks in a trembling voice.

"We have a virus." The doctor answers calmly: "I just saved his life."

"Saved his life? You killed him!"

"No, he is just asleep for now."

One of the others steps forward to the patient.

"His eyes have been removed, why did you do it?" As he looks up, the doctor sees it.

His colleagues have been infected too!

There is another eye in her neck.

It needs to be removed immediately!

The doctor quickly moves close and slashes it out, she gurgles for a bit and then falls to the ground into a puddle of her own blood.

His other colleagues scream and try to run, but the doctor is faster.

"Don't worry, I forgive you from whispering about me. I will save your lives as well."

After the successful operations the doctor moves to the front desk, the people behind the desks aren't people anymore.

Their many eyes stare at him.

One of the monsters screams and the doctor looks at the red trail he has been leaving.

They hit something and an alarm goes off.

The lights turns red.

They must be spreading the virus!The doctor thinks.

He quickly runs at them, slashing their vitals. Removing some of their eyes.

It doesn't take long for more monsters to appear, these are even more Grotesk and have even more eyes than the others.

They try to grab hold of him by his arms, making him drop the scalpel.

But it's not enough to stop him completely and so the doctor runs away.

Hallway after hallway, it's endless.

They won't be able to find him.

They won't be able to infect him.

The hallways get darker and darker and a monster that was chasing him is getting behind.

It's time to hide somewhere, the doctor decides.

Quickly he opens the first door he sees and rushes inside.

He locks the door behind him and waits for the monster's noise to pass.

"You won't last long this way." An old creaking voice behind him suddenly says.

The doctor turns around and peers into the darkness.

It takes a couple of minutes for him to get used to it.

But then he sees.

In the room, on an old chair, sits an even older lady awaiting him with a smile.

Unlike the others in the building, she seems strangely normal.

Did she flee here? The doctor wonders.

Then he changes his attention to all the clocks in the room.

Has this room always been here?

He couldn't remember.

Some of the clocks are new, others are old.

Some digital, some have hands.

All of them seem to stand still on a certain time, yet all different.

12:03

18:49

11:55

09:12

No, on closer inspection, they're all broken.

"Do you want to know where you are?" the old voice asks him in a familiar voice, yet he does not recognize it.

Where had he heard it before?

"Who are you?" he asks, but she doesn't seem to feel like answering him.

Instead the old woman laughs: "In this room are the people who took their last breath. These clocks show the last time they did. Some are long gone, yet some just a minute ago." With this she smiles at the doctor, it's a joyless and cold smile. "This hospital has quite the history." She ends.

He doesn't understand, what does she mean with all that?

"Well, talking in third-person is the last thing that will help you understand the situation you got yourself in."

"What the hell?" My senses suddenly return violently back to me, my vision is back to normal as well.

I look down at my hands, even though it should be too dark to see, I can see the blood. I can smell it. I can feel it.

It didn't happen.

It didn't happen!

IT DIDN'T HAPPEN!

NOTHING DID!!

"You added to this pile of clocks here." The old woman smirks, but as I look up at her she isn't old anymore.

She is a child.

She looks like she came out of an old picture.

"Did you really forget about me?" She asks, moving her head slightly sideways.

I don't remember her.

Why don't I remember her?!

"That's unfortunate." She says as if reading my mind: "But it won't save you from what you did."

I frantically try to find the light-switch.

I can hear people in the hallway, they must be searching for me.

Suddenly the girl, now a middle-aged woman, swings an old hand watch in front of me.

23:37 it says.

Now I remember, 23:37, that was my reason for doing the work I did.

Wait, what time is it now?

The lights turn on, I wasn't the one who did it, but it's one of the former monsters.

I'm in the morgue.

There are no clocks in here.

"You're coming with us pal!" the intruder yells at me.

I sigh and look at my watch.

It's 23:37.

Perhaps it is my time too.

The not-so-genius detective

I recently decided to challenge myself to write a non-horror short story.

This is my first time attempting to write a story that is supposed to be funny.

When I told my family about this they asked me if I was sick...

Without any further ado, I would love to hear what people think of this attempt at a comedic story:)

Word count: 2076

TW: Profanity (Doesn't go much further than 'shit' though)

“And this is detective Jayden Falkenstein.”

My boss has his hand on one of the shoulders of some kid, while looking like a proud father.

“That’s your nephew isn’t it?” I remark.

The chief looks astonished: “Oh my, you’re already familiar with him?”

“No.” I answer honestly: “But I feel like there’s something you too have in common.”

The man laughs as if I was giving him a compliment: “Oh well, he’s actually a lot brighter than me.”

“You wouldn’t say.” I scan the child before me with my eyes, there’s just something… terribly annoying about him. His clothes are made of many bright colours that don’t go well together, making me believe that he might be color blind. He looks unprofessional and attracts way too much attention.

His face bears the expression of a terrified child trying to hide his fear, with a look of fake confidence that is way too easily shattered.

There’s just no way that he’s a detective.

“So, sir, is he going to work here with us? Like an intern or something?” Or is he here to be baby-sitted by one of us? I secretly add.

“Oh, no, no, no. We need my dear nephew here to help us solve something.”

“Is he good with computers?” The chief is old, maybe that’s the problem? Was an IT-guy too expensive?

“I told you before, he’s a detective.” The man’s face turns serious, he must have noticed that I’ve been having difficulty with believing him.

His nephew must really want to play detective, there’s no way he went to school for it. Let alone leave with diploma in hand.

“You two are about the same age, so I expect you two to get along.”

“Around the same age?” I ask dumbfounded. I know the chief is getting old, but does he really have such difficulty with discerning 15-year olds with those in their twenties? It’s just impossible, he doesn’t even look close. And his terrible sense of fashion…

That and I don’t believe he would even be allowed to take his first driving lessons, let alone be allowed to step inside a bar.

The kid smiles at me: “I’m twenty-five, you know. I heard that you’re two years older.”

What…?!

I shake my head: “You’re not allowed to lie to a police officer, show me your ID.” I gesture to him to hand it over.

“Officer Coldon!” The chief calls out to me in frustration.

But the ‘detective’ hands me something “Here.” he says in a kind tone.

I take the object not really taking it seriously, until the picture and text reaches my sight.

…

…

He really is…

I feel utterly flabbergasted and it takes me a bit to finally find my composure again. While double checking if the ID is real or not.

I cough: “So chief, what’s the plan?”

The man in question looks at me still slightly annoyed: “Well, we got a message from the art gallery asking for help. Someone is threatening to take down the building.”

“I see, have they had the thread on paper or via mail?”

“Paper. The author of the note mentioned something like ‘sneaking inside like a snake’.”

“Can I see it?” I unconsciously reach out, hoping for him to give it to me.

Instead the older man shakes his head: “It’s being analysed by the lab right now. And it’s almost time to go.”

“Already?” The detective asks pouting.

That really can’t be an adult…

Both me and Jaiden get sent back home to change into more formal wear.

I’m lucky that I live quite close by to the gallery itself, I can head straight to the building.

After quickly finding something I believe to be fitting for a guest, I leave my apartment behind and walk to the place the chief wants us to meet up.

It’s in a park close by, I see they were able to get a normal looking van.

Then the other thing that I notice…

As if someone had eaten rainbows and puked them back out…

I frown and try to look away from the almost glowing thing standing before me: “Hell no, you’re not getting in there dressed like that!”

Surprise, surprise… It’s Jaiden standing before me, dressed in a manner even a freezing and naked hobo wouldn’t want. That hobo would most likely prefer to die.

Unconventional, torture to the eye itself. That describes it at best. I can feel the shame… Yet he does not seem to show that at all.

He’s comfortable in that?!

Detective Falkenstein looks at me with a smirk: “Well you’re dressed way too fancy for someone just visiting a museum.”

The audacity.

Suddenly the chief pulls both of us by our collars: “Damnit, both of you, get changed!!”

Both are forced to change on the spot for more casual looking clothes.

As we enter the building I glare at my colleague that did get his way by secretly keeping his God awful looking shirt underneath, slightly better looking clothing.

The chief had decided that the two of us have to partner up. There are others that are doing the same, but are given different routes to walk.

“So, one ticket for an adult and one for a child?” The lady behind the counter asks, taking my thoughts of annoyance to another place.

“I-I’m sorry ma’am, could you repeat that?” I’m pretty sure I heard something wrong.

“One adult.” She nods towards me, speaking almost in slow motion: “And one child.” She nods to Jaiden.

Immediately I shake my head: “That’s a grown man.”

A mischievous smile crosses my colleagues face, one I don’t like the look of.

“Sorry ma’am, my dad is only joking.” He takes my arm and I do my best to resist the urge to slap it away.

The lady behind the counter smiles a little, though clearly with murderous intent when her eyes rest on me.

Then she turns back to Jaiden, a soft smile crosses her face: “Would you like to participate in the scavenger hunt?”

The idiot smiles brightly: “Yes please.”

We get the tickets and I hear the lady whisper to one of her colleagues: “He’s so polite, he really did not get that from his dad.”

The other nods, “Yeah, he probably has a much better mother.”

When we’re finally out of hearing range, I pull the detective closer to me in anger: “That’s illegal!” I whisper-yell: “With our job we need to set a good example!”

Jaiden smiles carefree: “We also aren’t allowed to stand out.”

I hate to admit it, but in a way, just a tiny bit, he has a point. I better talk it out with him later.

Or perhaps I should set him the good example.

Engrossed in the piece of paper that was handed to him earlier, he mumbles: “Hmmm… where should we go next?”

It really isn’t the time to go on a scavenger hunt.

We soon find ourselves inside a long hallway, the walls are neatly lined with many paintings each in slightly different colours and moods.

I can understand why people calls this true art, the way the emotions are showing, the dreams and ideas of their creators all come together in one-

“That one looks super ugly!” My colleague bursts out in a loud laughter.

I look at him threateningly, but he doesn’t seem to notice at all.

“That…” He points at it: “Is truly the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen. No one would want it on a t-shirt. They did call this art right? Is this the collection of the ugliest man-made squirts?”

“Jaiden!” I hiss his name at him to quiet him down, but it only seems to show him that I’m still here.

He turns to me, ignoring the emotions that I’m clearly showing and asks a question in an annoyingly casual way: “So, the scavenger hunt is asking me to give this one a name. I’m thinking of ‘barf in the barn’ or ‘shit cow exploding’…”

He’s asking me.

Damnit, how clueless can a person be?

I take a deep breath to calm myself down: “We should continue to the next.” I try to remind him. There’s no time to be loitering around here, we have a criminal to catch!

I cannot truly see what this painting means, but I bet it has something to do with the painter's hidden anger bursting out. I think to myself as we’ve entered another hallway and a painting has taken my attention.

“Ha, a six-year-old could do better.”

I’m a cop. I remind myself. Murder is a crime.

Though I need to repeat it multiple times in order for it really to seep into my mind.

Continuing on I suddenly notice someone in the crowd acting strange.

A man is staring at a painting, without moving or even blinking at all.

Is he even still breathing?

Carefully as to not get his attention I glance his way a couple of times.

Trying to concentrate, I think about what I should do.

Should I let my other colleagues in- and outside know?

Or should I-

Crunch…

Crunch……

The sound of someone eating right next to me takes me out of my train of thought.

Guess who it is…

Jaiden…

Again.

Yep. That’s right…

He’s eating a bag of chips.

I’m thinking of ripping the thing out of his hands, but he walks off just before I’m able to.

You’re not allowed to eat inside this part of the gallery! I want to yell, but he’s already stepping towards the man I’m suspicious of.

I can see him say something to the suspect and then hold up his bag of potato chips.

The suspect is taken out of his trance and smiles, accepting the offer and taking some of the chips from the bag.

The detective comes back to me: “You know officer Coldon, not everyone is a suspect. That man was simply entranced by the painting. It isn’t pretty, the painting, but to him it feels like something special.”

I would love to be allowed to hit this kid over the head.

I remain silent, trying to show in this way that I still don’t agree.

“We should go this way.”

“Why?” I ask.

Did he suddenly have a good idea?

“The scavenger hunt continues down that hall.”

I follow him, tired out by my own anger and frustration.

I want to be part of what saves this gallery, but now I’m unsure if I can really do it.

“This has to be it!” Jayden suddenly calls out.

“Please lower your voice…” I feel too tired to lecture him again.

He picks up a random looking, empty piece of paper.

“This piece of paper must have another message… like with invisible ink.”

I swear I’m done with this guy.

“There’s no way…” I say, knowing that it’s clearly bull.

Not paying attention, while taking a few steps back, he accidentally bumps into someone.

“Ah, I’m sorry.” He immediately apologizes.

I guess he does have basic manners.

“Don’t worry, it doesn't matter.” The man he walked into answers in a kind tone: “It still happens to me from time to time as well.”

“Still I’m really sorry.”

Are these two going to keep doing this or are they finally going to stop and move on?

We still have to catch someone.

“Oh right, sir, do you happen to have a lighter?” Jayden quickly asks: “I need it for the scavenger hunt.” He points at the piece of completely ordinary paper.

“Oh yeah, I have one.” The man starts digging through his pockets: “Please do return it to me.”

“Thank you.” My babysitting job answers politely.

Carefully he lets the small flame from the dark metal object lick the paper.

As his face turns sour he finally turns off the lighter.

The paper really was just a piece of random paper.

Before returning it, he takes a quick glance at the small object in his hand. For a moment it looks like something clicked inside his mind.

With a smile on his face he returns the lighter to its owner.

“Thank you for letting me borrow this. Unfortunately it seems like this isn’t part of the scavenger hunt.” He hangs his head down showing rather theatrically his frustration.

“I see, well kid, I hope you find it.” The man takes the lighter and calmly walks away.

As the man has gone around the corner, Jayden suddenly jumps and pulls my sleeve: “That’s him!” He stops himself just in time from yelling: “The snake mentioned in the letter, it’s on the lighter! His means of destroying this place is by fire.”

Too tired to struggle, I press against my hidden earpiece and call for backup, giving everyone the best description I can of the suspect.

As we’re finally called back, the chief tells us that our suspects fingerprints matched that of the letter that was sent.

But a better investigation and court will be held later to find out what really happened.

I glance at my colleague.

I guess he might have his charms, solving a case might not entirely be beyond him…

Though dumb luck did most of the job.

But I still can’t get over his horrible sense of fashion!

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.

Sleep paralysis

My most recent short horror story:)

Word count: 953

After a long day of work I finally got home.

While rubbing my tired eyes I open the door to my apartment.

I reach for the light and turn it on.

My eyes scan the room that has appeared before me.

Thank God, it looks exactly the same as how I left it. I think to myself.

Quickly I glance behind me in the hallway.

No one is there.

Good.

I enter my home and close the door behind me.

One lock.

And the second lock.

You can never be too sure.

You can never be too safe.

I live alone, so leaving and coming home is always connected to some sort of fear of an intruder or a change.

Or perhaps it's just me, I've always been told that I'm quite anxious.

Well whatever, I'm home, I'm going to cook myself dinner.

As the food in the pan has finally come to the right heat, I turn of the stove and put my dinner on a plate.

I go over to my couch, turn on the tv and start eating.

I always do it like this, especially whenever I need to work the next day.

Usually I don't even pay attention to what's on, I just stare at the screen blankly.

I need the noise in order to feel safe.

In order to feel... well, not alone.

A while after I've finished my food, I decide that it's time to go to bed.

I keep the tv on and go to the bathroom to brush my teeth.

As I get out and back into a room, I suddenly hear the tv blaring some news I really didn't want to hear.

"The serial killer that has taken the lives of five has yet to be caught. The police have let us know that all of the murders have been done by the same person, evidence has shown-"

I quickly turn off the tv, I feel my body has turned cold by the voice of the newscaster.

It feels terrible.

"I really didn't want to hear that." I say speaking to myself, something I've been doing more and more since living alone.

Maybe I should check all the doors and windows again... just to be sure no one could enter.

I turn on some happy music in order for me to go through with my triple checking round.

As I check everything for the last time, I finally decide that I am in fact alone and that no one is inside my home.

I close the curtains and get into my messily made bed.

Then it's time to turn off the lights.

It takes a while for me to sleep, the thoughts of the news from before still linger freshly in my mind.

Suddenly I hear something moving in my room.

I open my eyes.

It's really dark.

At first I don't see anything.

But then I do.

Something is inside my room.

I can feel my heart starting to beat faster.

Unmoving it stands in the corner of my room.

Something seems to be staring at me and I'm staring back.

My eyes blink and as my eyes open, I notice it standing closer to me.

It moves what I believe to be its head and I hold my breath.

For a moment dark spots start appearing and I'm forced to start breathing again.

The dark spots disappear, just as the figure.

Did it really go away? I wonder.

I try to turn my head, but somehow I seem to have lost all control of my body, except for my eyes.

Suddenly I notice something in the corner of my eye.

A face.

Someone is standing next to me.

Their face right next to mine.

The person, if I can call it that, in my room looks rather unsettling.

The face... has something unnatural to it.

One eye looks just slightly too big and the other too small.

The smaller one seems to be staring into my soul.

The big one seems to be almost bulging out of the eye socket, though that might still be in part my imagination. I wouldn't be able to tell you which eye is the smaller or bigger one.

Still in a way it does still look like a normal face, but also not at all.

Their skin is incredibly grey, like ash.

Their fingers are thin, so thin I've never seen before.

The intruder takes out something that glistens in the little bit of light that enters my room.

Immediately I know what the object is.

A knife.

"I know you can't move, so I will give you a chance." They say in a voice that seems devoid of humanity.

"With this mark, you are the next."

I try to move, but even just trying to move my lips end up accomplishing nothing.

My heart is beating so loudly I can't hear anything else.

The intruder smiles, too widely for any human being to be smiling and then slowly starts to cut through my skin.

It hurts.

It hurts!

I want to scream, but I can't.

I want to fight back, but my body won't let me.

A creepy chuckle leaves the person's lips.

Lips that seem to have something inhuman.

They take their time, cutting away at my shoulder.

Meanwhile I'm unable to do anything.

My blanket has fallen onto the ground and the figure picks it up and tuck me in.

"Ssssh... there, there." They say in a malice filed tone: "Don't be scared, I'll come back for you later."

Then the intruder leaves the room and I close my eyes.

My alarm wakes me up and the first thing I notice is that I'm able to move again.

What a nightmare.

I sigh.

Looking around, I finally feel at ease again.

No one is here.

I'm alone.

I get out of bed and get ready for the day.

When I'm ready to leave, I place my hand on the doorknob of my front door and, shocked, I pull it back quickly.

It's unlocked.

Both locks.

I'm so certain I locked them.

I checked and checked again.

A sudden pain enters my shoulder and I rub my hand against it, only to find it stained red.

The walls are bleeding

My most recent short horror story.

Word count: 724

Trigger warning: Blood (who would have guessed)

It was just half an hour when it happened.

I had come to the decision that my house was in need of a rather intense cleanup.

Starting with the living room, I took out all the junk and other stuff and then started cleaning.

I glanced at the wallpaper, pained by how ugly it truly is without any of my stuff cluttering around it. This wallpaper had belonged to the previous owners, it hasn't been too long ago since I had moved in and I hadn't really taken the time to change it.

So what's a better time than now?

I walked towards one of the walls that was facing away from the windows, took a chair to stand on and placed my fingers over the paper's exterior.

It was a strange sensation, is this really paper? I thought to myself.

I hesitated.

Lowering my hands again and just stared for a moment.

Then other thoughts started to convince me to continue: This must be some kind of fancy wallpaper I don't know about. Fancy, but ugly, that explains the texture. I should remove it.

No, it needs to be removed!

Again I raised my hands and started by putting my fingers in between the wall and the wall at a place where it was already slightly loose.

Suddenly I noticed that I was touching something wet and sticky. Something of which I was certain that it couldn't be glue.

I swiftly retrieved my hand only to find the tips of my fingers to be soaked crimson red.

There's no doubt about it...

It's blood.

I immediately got down from the chair and ran towards the phone.

I need to call the police! Was the only thought running through my head.

Dialling the number, it luckily didn't take long for someone to pick up. I told them about the situation and that it was making me fear for my safety. I was told to wait by the door and open it for them.

A little later the doorbell finally rang, I felt a bit underwhelmed when I saw that they had sent just a single officer to check in on me.

Had they thought me mad?

"Good morning sir, Please show me what you found." He greeted me.

I took the man into my living room and showed him the spot.

"Good God..." He murmured.

He reached for his walkie-talkie and pressed a button.

"This is officer Green... Send to the bleeding house alert. I'm in need of backup. Over."

Some white noise left the small object, but nothing audible.

"This is officer Green. Does anyone copy. Over." He seemed to be slightly panicking.

Drip...

Drip...

I heard something coming down from upstairs and it didn't sound very good.

"Sir, I got to check something real quick." I said to the officer, though I don't believe he heard me at all. He seemed to be caught up in the buzzing of his communication device.

I ran up the stairs.

The dripping seemed to come from the bathroom.

Opening the door I found something horrifying.

Instead of water, blood was dripping out of the faucet.

Slowly filling up the tub with the dark coloured liquid.

I tried closing the faucet, but it only got worse.

Blood started pouring out.

I left again quickly, closing the door thoroughly behind me, trying to forget about what I had just seen and proceeded to my bedroom.

This wasn't in any way better.

I felt cold when I stepped into a lukewarm puddle of the sticky substance.

It was coming down from the walls, dripping, colouring and messing with all the furniture in it.

Entering the small hallway again, the walls had taken a colour of dark red as well.

Careful not to slip, I made my way back downstairs again.

"Sir, have you reached your colleagues yet?" I frantically ask the officer standing facing the wall quietly.

Something is wrong though.

Something about him seems so much different than how he was before.

The air around him...

In his hands he's holding a big piece of wallpaper and he's covered in blood.

Without looking my way, he starts talking.

"Perhaps this is its way of cleansing itself."

His voice sounds different too.

"What the hell do you mean?!"

"Usually when a wound is bleeding, it is in a way cleaning itself. The bigger the wound, the less chance of infection. The dirt will be washed away by the blood itself."

I feel anger and panic boiling up in my body: "Are you trying to say that I'm the cause of this?!"

For a moment there's silence, but then he shrugs.

"Nah, I wouldn't know that."

The machine that brought the dead back to life - Part 1

A slightly longer short horror story I wrote, cut into two.

Word count: 1947

Tick tock

The soft ticking of a clock echoed through a grey room.

Tick tock

Together with the rhythmic sound of the ticking clock you can hear the ticking of many fingers on many keyboards.

Tick tick tock

The tapping on the keyboards is much more out of tune compared to the ticking of the clock.

Grey tables are placed in long, neatly arranged lines from one side of the room to the other, on all of those tables sit people dressed in grey uniforms. The grey floor matches the rest.

All of this is colored in a slight blue light, caused by the many blue screens behind which these people are working.

For now, the hard working people ignore the clock, their work is more important.

Their income is more important.

Time is money.

Life is money.

All of these people had been carefully selected for working at a rather prestigious company, one that only allows a select few to enter their offices.

They have these selections for even the lowest of the ranks, such as these.

There doesn't exist a company more important than this one.

For this company controls life itself.

Life and death have been enslaved by this company.

In a city of steam and ash, this place is known as the best place to work at.

Complicated machinery is just in the other room, people can bring their loved ones back from the dead with a pricetag.

Still to leave them deceased is now being seen as immoral, because why would you let your loved ones die? No matter how much the person wanted to take the forever rest, the people that would allow it could lose their status and jobs. Sometimes they could even go to prison for cold blooded murder.

At one desk sits a woman, her name is Clara, dressed in the same uniform as the rest, typing away diligently at the computer. She types it all at an incredible speed.

Even though she is so amazing at her work, promotions are hard to come by, still she's happy with her job.

This job makes it so that she and her husband can live the life they want to, unfortunately his job has a much lower status than hers, but she loves him nonetheless. He always returns her love with the same amount, always wishing he could do more for them.

The husband, his name is Drew, makes a living as a car-repairman, machinery like that is his forte, his calling.

A small one bedroom apartment with a living room that's also the kitchen. They also have a small bathroom with only the bare necessities.

Living costs are rather high for them, causing them to almost have to live hand-to-mouth.

It has only been recently that Clara had started working at the company and their lives have already changed for the better. Food was something they could afford almost every day now, no need for living days on old bread crusts anymore. If they were to save up a bit, they might even be able to afford a bottle of wine.

Back at work Clara worked hard whilst thinking of when she could go back to the love of her life.

With their future only just beginning, they could start making plans on what to do next with their lives.

Perhaps save up money for a trip or to eat something nice one day.

A loud bell goes off and the people behind the computers start finishing up the last bits of their work, readying themselves to return to their homes.

Some chat with others for a bit before leaving, others leave quietly and speedily.

Clara says goodbye to her co-workers and takes her leave.

Through the dark streets she wanders, through the thick mist that is the smog, passing by the street lanterns that just barely show the heads of the people walking by.

Cars travel by, old-timey and repaired again and again, that it is the question if they really were the same cars as they started out as. Perhaps even the oldest parts have all been changed up.

Finally Clara makes it home, taking off her shoes before entering and embraces her beloved as he comes to greet her.

He calls to her, speaks her name, his voice tired from work, but still full of love, he had already made dinner for the two of them.

Over dinner they talk about how their day was, the work they did and their dreams for the future.

Then they rest on the small old couch by the tv.

The object looked as if it has seen better days and has been adjusted many times. Different colored plates can be seen bolted all over it. There are even some bolts that seem to have been placed at random and without purpose.

On the tv an advertisement plays, it shows the company for which Clara works causing the two to joke around about it.

Drew calls Clara 'Frankenstein's assistant' and Clara pokes fun at him for being the one to bring dead cars back to live.

The ad shows a famous person who had been brought back to life and was thanking the company that they were able to return back to working again so soon after the revival.

The teasing continues, until the pair is too tired to continue.

The next day was another day of hard work for the two, weekends aren't very common here, only certain people are entitled to it.

Like usual Clara took the smog filled streets to the giant building that was her workplace, her 'second home' the bosses would joke about.

Clara followed the crowd towards the grey room with all the desks.

Like always she sat down on her desk and started typing away.

A couple of hours later a small man wearing fancy clothes with golden buttons entered the room, he is one of the higher-ups.

He called for Clara and she turned to look at him.

What could it be, she wondered.

Is it something good? Or something bad?

Most likely it was something bad.

She could feel the anxiety in her stomach every step she got closer to the man.

The man looked at her in pity.

"Please come this way." He told her and thus she followed him.

They walked up many stairs to eventually reach the top of the building.

The top floor was much different than the basement, the building was so high, you could see above the smog of the old city and see the horizon.

Many objects were coated in gold and the people here were dressed the fanciest Clara had ever seen.

Clara and the man entered a room and she was seated at the end of a large table.

The old man in charge sat at the other end.

"Clara, I've got bad news for you." He said his voice sounded hoarse from age.

Clara's heart sank.

"Your husband, Drew, passed away."

For a moment Clara didn't know what to feel or say, but then a wave of intense sadness overcame her.

The tears came and she wasn't able to stop them.

"My condolences." The old man added, but Clara almost didn't hear it due to the screaming of her heart.

Then a desperate idea entered her mind, she turned to her boss, looked him straight in the eye and asked: "Can you please bring him back to life?"

The old man smiled: "Please Clara, you know it is much more than you can possibly pay with your salary."

"Please, I will do anything, I will work more overtime, I will, I will..." Desperation got a strong hold of her and stopped her mouth from creating words.

"I'm sorry Clara, but I will have to think about that. Please return to your work."

The small man came to send Clara back to the basement of the building and shakingly she went with him.

She couldn't stop her tears, she couldn't stop herself from desperately trying to find an answer.

Back in the grey room she sat behind her computer again, only to be unable to continue her work anymore.

She had to see her beloved, she just had to see him, dead or alive. It just didn't matter.

Finally at long last, the bell rang and Clara rushed home.

Through the smog filled streets she ran, bumping into people without apologizing, tears running down her cheeks.

When she finally arrived home she was completely out of breath, but continued on nonetheless.

But he wasn't there, the only thing the apartment was filled with, was old memories.

Old memories that would never repeat.

Old dreams that would never come into fruition.

It didn't even feel like home anymore for Clara.

There was however a letter on the floor.

It was a letter about Drew's death, it had been sent by his boss.

In the letter he asked if she could come to the small workshop and talk about what had happened.

Without locking the door, she rushed outside again, running to the place he had last been alive.

At the old workshop she found the boss who seemed to be grieving as well, he too just lost someone important to him, yes an employee, but also a friend.

They talked between tears about Drew and what they would do now.

Eventually they came to the conclusion that maybe, if they both went, they could get him back.

So together they went back to the company at which Clara worked and tried to get the boss to understand, both promising everything if it should be so.

But again the boss refused, because even together they wouldn't be able to pay the price for bringing someone back.

A couple of days went by and Clara started having more trouble with work.

The small man with the golden buttons came by her desk and asked for her attention: "We have seen how much you're struggling with the loss of your beloved, we think it would be better if you take things a bit slower." A sinister smile crossed his face, making Clara shiver.

She knew what this meant very well, she would either get fired or get demoted to the lowest part of the company.

Corruption, she thought, the company has been corrupted to the core, well perhaps it has simply always been this way.

Money this, money that.

Life seems to only be able to be saved with enough money.

Still Clara obeyed and followed the man downstairs.

They entered a room that looked just like the one she had been working in before.

It was like an exact copy, but something about it felt... amiss.

Though she could not guess what it was that made her feel that way.

The man showed her to her new desk and left.

Despairing every possible mistake she could make, she carefully typed the day away.

During it, she noticed that some of the people around her were in a much worse shape than her, some coughing, some's clothes looked more like wet rags.

But to them it didn't seem to matter, they kept doing their job, without missing a key.

At the end, the bell rang and unlike in the other room, no one said goodbye to one another. Almost like they were ignoring each other.

Far behind Clara followed them out of the room.

As they entered a dark hallway Clara lost the group.

In the dark she searched, until she finally found a door.

Believing it to be the right one, she opened it.

Artificial red colored light entered the dark hallway.

She peeked through the opening.

It took a moment for her to register what was going on.

She saw the machine.

The machine with the power to bring the dead back to life.

The machine that saved so many.

It was a really strange one, different from what was being advertised on tv.

It was one for multiple people at once.

And around the machine's fumes, were people.

Working people, even though working hours were long over.

They worked in rags, rags worse than she had ever seen before.

The people worked and worked, some clearly in pain.

Then she suddenly recognized some of the people.

Those people were ones that died, but who's loved ones couldn't pay for them to be revived again...

[TO BE CONTINUED]

The mirror room

This is another short horror story I wrote a little while ago.

I hope you like it.

This time it's much more of a ghost story:)

Word count: 1495

TW: Ghosts

With the soft flickering light of my candle I look upon the dark oaken wood door in front of me, regretting my willingness to do something this stupid.

It is already dark outside, so the only light in the whole mansion is that of time.

I'm staying over at my nieces place, she recently moved here in this old mansion. Our family is quite wealthy, so this isn't anything too strange for us.

I arrived this morning by carriage, the road was too rigid for an automobile. With a full suitcase in hand, I was greeted by my relatives. I am staying here for a week after all.

My niece and I spend the whole day looking at every nook and cranny of the old mansion. It was definitely built by some very rich people and most likely during the renaissance. Even so the condition it was in was immaculate like it was dust proof, or perhaps they just happen to have a witch or wizard as their cleaner.

I was shown around and told stories about each room, but there was one room my niece really wanted to show me. The room she said was magical.

The mirror room.

Carefully I open the old door with my still free hand, trying to not make any noise and accidentally wake up my uncle and aunt. They can be quite strict and if I get found out we will surely be punished, though my niece probably more than me. But still I don't want her to get into trouble and it was me who accepted her challenge.

When the door gently creaks open, a soft breeze blows out my candle.

That's strange.

The windows are supposed to be closed here, in fear of thieves and burglars.

I'm sure my uncle closed them before.

How did they open?

I enter the room and as I gently close the door behind me, it gives the same soft creek, although in reverse this time.

My niece was right, even at night this is the room with the most light, not by candle of course, but by the stars outside. They shine into the many mirrors, reflecting the tiny lights, creating this ghostly light. I know she said magical, but I find it somewhat unsettling, especially the fact that all the windows have been opened somehow.

As I cautiously walk towards the first window to close it, I look at the ceiling. It has been beautifully ornamented by a painting of the stars and small renaissance angels. With the soft echoing of my footsteps behind me on the black and white tiled floor I think to myself: this building is almost a half-palace.

During the day when my niece showed me this room, she was very excited and told me all sorts of stories about it. Way too fast, honestly, I could only understand the part of it that it may or may not have been a ballroom once and that many lavish parties have been thrown here. When she first told me that this was her favorite place in the whole mansion I honestly thought that it might be because she could see herself in the mirror. She is rather prideful of her appearance, taking ages to get ready.

She told me about the music she sometimes hears from this room and the talking of many merry people. Although when she enters the room, no one is there.

I don't get scared easily and am secretly also a bit curious, so she decided that it would be my job to investigate.

I look around.

I think I can see why now, the reason why this is her favorite room.

It is a clear night, the silver moon shines almost as bright as the sun and I can see thousands of stars sparkling the night sky with its colorful dust.

All of the sky's wonders let this silver, grey light into the room, creating a hauntingly beautiful place. Much, very much different from the one during the day.

The mirrors do their part, making the room look so much bigger than it actually is.

As I look around, the only other person I can see is my own reflections in the mirrors. Small, pale, almost dead because of the shadow the light creates on my face.

Carefully I walk towards the windows, all of them are wide open. Like they are inviting something in and the moon is inviting something out. Me?

Should I really be here?

At this time?

As quietly as possible I close the windows one by one.

When I am closing the last one... I hear something.

Whispering.

Footsteps.

It is behind me.

Quickly I turn around to see... no one.

Not my uncle or my aunt.

Not my niece trying to prank me.

Something is wrong, I am missing one other.

.

.

.

I am missing.

My reflection is not there.

It starts getting colder.

It turns my breath into small silver clouds.

I rub my hands together for warmth, but I can't get much out of it.

Since the last window is not completely closed yet, I turn around and close it fast with a soft THUD.

Again there is the sound of whispers behind me, closer this time. Like they are just a couple of steps away.

Swiftly I turn around again, just to be greeted by the empty mirrors again.

"Is someone there?" I ask, instantly regretting it.

There shouldn't be anyone.

I am alone.

I am really alone.

There is no one else.

Just me in this empty room.

Calming myself doesn't seem to work that well.

All of a sudden all the windows open and smash closed in unison.

Startled, I run towards the entrance, the old oak door.

I try to open the door, but it is locked.

As I panic I start pounding on the door and calling for my aunt and uncle like crazy.

No answer, everyone is asleep of course.

No one can hear me.

No one can help me.

The light in the room starts acting weird and I look up.

It is coming from the ceiling now, all the stars are glowing.

It is like it took the light from outside, since there is no light coming from outside anymore. Just pitch black darkness.

Even the moon has gone.

Those are not the only things that are wrong.

The angels on the ceiling.

They are watching me.

Following me with their eyes.

As I turn towards the mirrors, there is one with the moon still reflected in it.

Not knowing what to do I slowly walk towards it, preparing myself for anything that might jump at me.

Nothing seems to happen for a long time and I decide that it is safe enough for me to check the mirror.

Gently I place my palm against the cold surface.

It is getting even colder now, my own body feels like stone.

Then a shadow passes in the mirror... or did I just imagine it?

No I didn't.

They really are there. They are with many and I can't predict their next move. There is one for each mirror.

Wait, where is the rest of the room?

I am only surrounded by mirrors.

No windows.

No door.

Just me and the shadows from the mirrors.

The shadows have somewhat the shape of human beings, but just not right. All seem to be cloaked.

Then they float out of their mirrors.

I am surrounded.

As they get closer, my panic grows.

Closer.

Closer.

Closer.

Using my candle without a flame as a weapon I try to escape.

But they keep coming.

As I try to hit them it just goes right through.

I hit.

I kick.

I scream.

They won't let go.

One of them starts getting really close to my face.

I can see it.

The ash grey skin.

The holes for eyes and mouth are much too big.

The eyes and mouth are filled with an endless abyss.

Still I keep on fighting.

They take me by my arms and legs.

Then my throat.

I scream until I can't anymore.

Until it is so squeezed shut, I can't even breathe.

They lift me up and I can see more of their inhuman faces.

Closer.

Closer.

Without stopping.

What do they want from me?

My vision gets overrun with dark spots.

Is this the end?

The strength in my arms is gone, I can't hit anymore.

Help...

The strength in my legs is gone, fighting is impossible now.

Please, someone help me!

Then as if by magic a violin starts playing on the other side of the room.

Unlike before the shadows now gently place me on the cold floor.

I can breathe again.

Gasping for air and shivering from the cold and fear, I quickly get up.

My head is pounding and so is my heart.

The stars on the ceiling start shining brighter, chasing away the dark shadows and brightening up the room like a lamp would.

As I look at my surroundings, I see that the shadows from before are now gone.

Instead there are a lot of festively dressed people, all of them are wearing masks.

The violin is still playing.

The sound of the instrument is a bit more livelier than before.

One of the masked people approaches me.

A girl around the same age as me.

"I'm sorry, we don't get visitors that often. They aren't used to it." She says in a soft voice.

She smiles at me, but I can't see if her eyes do.

Slowly, as if trying not to scare me, the girl stretches out her hand to me.

"Would you like to dance with me?"

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:

in the rain

A short horror story I wrote last year, I'm surprised to find out I hadn't posted it here before.

Word count: 1848

TW: psychological horror

The sound of the gentle tapping of the rain on my window awakens me.

Just by glancing over at the window I can see the dark autumn sky even though it must still be around noon.

Slowly I get up from the couch, I must have dozed off for a minute or so.

I walk over to my kitchen to see if there is anything to eat.

Opening all the cabinets and finally the freezer, I discover that I'm all out of food.

Damn, I forgot, it's grocery day today... and I still have to go out with this shitty weather.

Still I ready myself to go outside, I take my dark green raincoat and a bag.

I put on my shoes and finally leave, locking the door behind me, walking towards the nearest bus stop.

I know I'm being lazy, walking that distance can be done in about half an hour, but still this weather seems to only be getting worse.

As I turn around to face the weather I feel the cool breeze going through my coat and the water gliding off my face.

A greeting from the outside, a cold and wet greeting.

Quickly I make a run for the bus stop.

Each time one of my feet hit the middle of a puddle, the water flies around me, making me feel like a little kid playing in the rain.

It takes a couple of minutes for me to reach the small square hut, known locally as the bus stop.

I live in the middle of nowhere anyway.

As I finally lay eyes on it I almost dive for cover under the roof.

I know it doesn't really matter, I'm already soaked, but still, it brings me comfort.

Immediately I notice that I'm not alone.

Someone else is standing beside me.

Most likely also waiting for the bus to come.

Their face is obscured by their coat... Their dark green coat.

Did he get it at the same store as me?

For a while we awkwardly stand next to each other, not speaking a word, or perhaps letting the rain itself do the talking.

Cold seconds pass slowly and eventually I can't take it anymore.

"So... uhh... the weather is pretty bad, éh?"

I know the question is bad, small talk is not everyone's favorite, but worse than that, I don't get a response at all.

And we are back at listening to the rain and just standing next to one another, but this one more awkwardly than before.

The person next to me didn't show any sign of even hearing me.

Finally the bus arrives and I get on.

I look back, but the person behind me doesn't seem to be moving in the slightest.

Does he even breathe? I really can't tell.

"Hey man? Didn't you need to take the bus too?" I call over to him, gesturing that he can go in, but again he doesn't move at all.

I shake my head and then turn it towards the bus driver.

Unlike the usual uniform, they seem to be wearing another dark green raincoat. Almost exactly like mine, or perhaps it's completely the same...

I show the chauffeur my ticket, but he doesn't move a muscle.

Quietly I turn around to look further inside the vehicle.

It's almost completely empty, except for a few strangers dressed with the same dark green jacket.

For a moment I hesitate.

Do I really want to be on this bus?

But then the squeaking doors behind me close, cutting off my only escape route.

Obediently I take a seat, trying not to look around me and just stare out of the window.

When the bus finally comes to a halt at my stop I get out as fast as I can.

Strangely enough this is the first stop it made, no one got on and no one got off.

As I step outside, I am greeted by more rain, falling down even heavier than before.

Quickly I race towards the store and feel a sense of relief wash over me as I finally reach the entrance and hear the familiar chime.

The bright light hurts my eyes, it's a lot brighter than outside after all.

I let out a shivering sigh from the cold. It might be less warm here than outside, or perhaps it's because of how wet my clothes have gotten.

The water has gone right through my coat after all.

I notice my breath leaving my mouth in small clouds and rub my hands together for some warmth.

I guess it must be cold here after all.

Carefully I look around, it seems that I'm the only customer inside the store.

I should probably hurry up, I'm not sure if there will be many buses leaving after I'm done with shopping.

I take a shopping cart and start to move around the store.

Taking with me things for breakfast, things for lunch, things for dinner and of course some snacks.

Eventually I find myself next to an aisle that's entirely empty.

"How strange..." I mutter to myself: "I was sure these were filled just last week..."

I take a few steps back, towards the fridges where they keep milk and stuff.

Something about it seems off.

Carefully I take a closer look.

It looks like all the cartons of milk from the highest shelf to the lowest have all been cut in half in a straight row.

No, cut isn't the word.

More like half of it has been melted off.

The contents are spilled all over the floor.

As I inspect the next row, I see that these all have half-faded packaging.

I look up to find a huge dark stain on the ceiling above it, water is slowly dripping down onto those products and the floor.

It's almost as if the rain is washing it all away.

Quickly I leave for the check-out and find another one behind the counter.

A person, dressed with the same raincoat as mine, somehow still with a faded nametag on their chest, too faded to read.

Honestly it looks a bit silly.

Their hood is up and they look down, causing me to be unable to see their face just like with the others before.

I greet the 'worker' like normal even though he doesn't move at all and I hand them the money, which they don't take either, so I place it before them.

"Keep the change." I say, trying to joke away the fear I feel inside.

That is the truth after all.

I'm scared.

I'm terrified.

I'm terrified, but I don't want to let it show.

Everything about this day has been strange.

Normally I don't fall asleep during the day, normally I don't take the bus to the store, normally I don't stand waiting for a bus with a stranger...

Then there's the fact I haven't seen a single familiar face since I woke up. Why isn't anyone here when usually this store is filled with people I know?

I pick up the pace, too scared to look behind me.

What if they did move?

What if they did move, but only if I wasn't facing them.

What if they were right behind me, staring at me from underneath those hoods?

What if they wanted to do something to me?

I shake my head and enter the rainy and windy outside world again.

The rainfall has gotten even heavier.

I can barely keep my eyes open from all the water pouring down, only able to open them again as I blindly enter the bus stop.

This time I'm alone.

Though I doubt if that really is the case.

I mean, what if they're watching?

While waiting for the bus to come I look at my sleeve.

The dark green fabric has been completely soaked.

Why is it that we all wear the same? I think to myself.

Where and when did I even buy such an ugly thing?

I have another one, a blue one... right?

No, now that I think about it I'm not so sure.

This rain... it's making it difficult to remember.

The bus finally arrives for me to go home again.

Trying to avoid the spats coming from the sky, but failing, I enter the vehicle.

It's cold here too.

Like in the store small clouds leave my shivering mouth.

I look at the driver.

It's one of them again.

Or am I supposed to be one of them?

My coat shows our resemblance.

My hood is still up too.

I take it off and smile at the driver.

"Good afternoon sir, bad weather we're having, don't we?"

Suddenly I hear something moving in the back of the bus.

Multiple people dressed like me are sitting there, more than before.

All of them seem to stare at me from underneath their dark hoods.

I smile at them too, but now that I'm looking at them too they have stopped moving again completely.

The door behind me closes and I take a seat.

Everything feels so unwelcoming, it makes me feel a bit sad.

Looking outside of the window I appreciate the beautifully dreary scenery from my home.

It looks like the water levels have been rising far.

Much further than it normally would.

Almost like the water is trying to swallow it all up.

I'm glad I live up high.

We drive past a small cliff.

I look down at the water through the window.

The rain is still relentlessly hitting the windows, coming down unforgivingly at the windows, making me scared that it could shatter them any moment.

It has become a droning noise overtaking any thought I might have had as suddenly, I feel light.

Everything starts feels like going in hyper speed.

The bus has made a turn.

A turn off the cliff.

And we hit the water before I even realized what was going on.

It's all going so fast and yet, none of them moved even an inch.

All of the other 'passengers' keep sitting the way they sat before, not even trembling because of the fall. Making it look like they were plastic figures glued to their respective benches.

Windows break and water starts to pour in even faster than the rain.

Loudly I curse and get up from my seat in a daze.

My head is pounding terribly, did I hit something?

I'm not sure.

It just hurts.

The vehicle starts to sink and I start to panic.

A heavy tree branch falls through one of the small windows in the ceiling.

I jump back, but then see that it has shattered the entire window and created a way for me to get out.

The water is rising higher and higher and I reach for the window.

Now the people in the bus do start to move.

In a strange and shocking way.

Moving like they have never used a limb before.

Crawling around, stumbling around, a strange form of swimming.

Shit!

They're coming for me!

They're coming for me!!

They get closer and closer with their strange movements.

Trying to wrap their arms around me.

As I feel their freezing cold fingers touch me I kick around me as hard as I can.

"Stay away!" I yell: "Stay the Hell away!!"

Desperately I hold on to the branch.

The first few already have their hands wrapped around my ankles.

"Let me go!!!" I yell, kicking and screaming.

More hands.

And then they start to grip and pull.

The gray light from the sky starts to grow distant, my head is getting closer to the water.

The heavy rain has started pushing me down now too.

Pushing back my hands, letting me slide back down.

I've never seen or even felt a rain storm this heavy, it feels like it's trying to get rid of me.

Trying to clean this place by getting rid of me.

Like a ghost town being washed away by the rain...

The diver

Another short horror story I wrote.

Word count: 2339

"Are you ready?" Bob asks us in an excited tone.

I nod anxiously, but in truth that simple action is an enormous lie.

We have never been this deep before, no one has and the things we might come across at the bottom is a mystery to us.

Still, we have been training for this for months now. I should stop worrying and just dive down with my team.

Our heavy diving equipment gets their finishing touches and we are ready to go.

"Alright, you guys know what to do if something goes wrong, right?" James asks us.

"Yes." I answer, just nodding won't do it now. They won't be able to notice it with my helmet on.

The others let him know they know as well, it's just pressing the red button after all. Then James and the rest of the crew, still above water, will get us out.

If something does go wrong however, it will take a while for us to get back.

But I don't want to think too much about it.

With a loud splash my group and I jump into the water, slowly they let us down with the ropes attached to us.

I peer out of the small window in my helmet, watching everything slowly growing darker and darker the deeper I go.

Fishes rush away from me, while the seemingly unending plant greets me to come further down.

"Liam, You good?" Bob asks me.

"Yes, I'm okay. You?"

"That's good to hear. I really wonder what we will find down there." Bob still sounds as excited as before. Really that man knows no fear.

As it gets darker, we turn on our lights. But even so, there isn't much we can see except for each other.

Finally my feet touch the ground and we decide to look around to put everything we see on film.

We fasten the ropes to some rocks that seem sturdy enough, our suits are made especially for us to spend longer underwater.

Not only has it gotten darker, it has gotten much colder as well.

"Guys, you should come see this." I hear Kimberly say through the radio.

"What is it?" Asks Kyle, while walking towards her. I carefully follow them.

Finally I see what Kimberly wanted to show us.

It's a building.

A building made of old bricks, taken over by nature, but still standing in great condition.

A building underwater.

Unfortunately it's too dark to make out what kind of building it might have been.

"This is so strange, the robots we sent before didn't show anything like this." Kimberly says, astonished.

"They could have missed it, but I guess we have to call for archeologists now before we can continue." Kyle sighs.

"It shouldn't be a problem as long as we don't enter it." Bob suggests.

As we make our way around it, I take notice of the fact that there seems to be no fishes down here. Only plants.

"Hey, did you hear that?" Kyle suddenly asks, clearly afraid of something.

Bob looks around: "No, I didn't hear anything." If it wasn't for his heavy suit he would have probably visibly shrugged.

Quietly we move our flashlights around to see whatever Kyle could have heard.

"Where did it come from?" Kimberly asks.

"I-I think it might have come from the building."

"Ah, not used to the sounds of old buildings underwater yet?" Bob shares, but gets no answer except an annoyed silence from Kyle.

I look around further, letting the light of my flashlight slowly pass over all my surroundings.

There are more buildings.

A lot more.

And on the ground.... This almost looks like an asphalt road... like one used nowadays.

I call the others over to inspect it.

"Creepy... it looks just like above.... But wrong." Kimberly says reluctantly to go further.

"Yeah, I think we should go back." Kyle agrees, not trying to hide his fear anymore.

Something is wrong.

Not just this place.

But where the hell did Bob go?!

I look around.

The other two seem to have noticed as well: "Did you think he went inside one of the buildings?"

"Goddammit! We can't just leave without him. If he is just pranking us, I will-"

"He is not that kind of person." I answer quickly, I've known Bob for a while now. He might like to joke around sometimes, but this is beyond him. Something must have happened!

We search for our lost friend and call out to him, but no matter how well we look, he just doesn't seem to be around.

"Alright, I'm pressing the button." Kyle says, already holding the thing in his hand.

Kimberly agrees: "Yes, I will try to get in touch with the ship."

Then I can suddenly hear Kimberly saying in a panicking tone: "Guys... I can't contact them."

Kyle starts to panic as well: "FUCK, I knew this was a bad idea!"

I would be lying if I said that I didn't feel it as well, but there was something else that took my attention from the two.

I think I know this place...

These buildings... They are so familiar.

Carefully I walk towards one, the one that gives me this feeling the most and shine my flashlight just above the doors.

It's in a language I can read.

And it clearly reads 'Hospital'.

"Guys." I mumble to them, but they are too busy arguing.

A sudden idea enters my mind.

What if I enter? And go to the highest spot I can get... will I be able to get into contact with the others on the boat again?

I walk towards them: "Hey, I think we can still get help."

I explain my plan to them and at first they think it's ridiculous, but there isn't really any other option.

We have to enter.

The doors to the hospital are open, so getting in isn't difficult.

An eerie feeling creeps over me as I see the interior.

It looks just like the hospital I know, one I would rather not remember though.

"I think I know this place." I mumble to the others.

"You know this place? There is no way. This has been down here for god knows how long." Kyle answers me.

I turn towards him: "Couldn't you read the text above the door? Or really any of these nameplates?"

He looks at me confused: "Man, is your oxygen tank already malfunctioning?"

So they don't see it? But I can see it all so clearly.

"Liam, are you okay?" Kimberly asks.

"Yes, I'm fine."

I hate that they doubt me so much, but if I think about it, I would probably doubt me too.

Even so, I take the lead and thanks to me seeing the things they don't, find the stairs without problem.

It doesn't take long for us to reach the second floor.

"Bob?" Kyle suddenly asks.

"Wait, did you hear him?" Kimberly looks around.

"I'm sure of it. I heard him over there!"

Before we can stop him he walks towards where only he heard it come from.

"Kyle, did you hear his radio? Or his voice?" I ask, but receive no answer in return.

We follow him quickly.

Kimberly stops for a second to check if she can contact James again, but seemingly to no avail, as she continues on soon after.

As I turn back to look where Kyle went, I don't see him anymore.

"Kyle?" I call out to him.

"Shit, did he leave without us?"

We run towards the place we had last seen him, but it doesn't matter how many doors we open.

He is not there.

"Bob! Kyle! Where are you two?!" Kimberly yells.

"I think we should go further to let the others know." I tell her as we have searched the entire floor.

She sighs, but follows me back up the stairs.

We skip the next floor, since this door does seem to be locked.

I wonder how many floors this building has...

"Hey, Liam... I think I smell something..."

"What?"

"It smells like blood."

"We are really deep underwater right now... how come? Did you get wounded somehow?"

"No, I'm fine." She mumbles as I check for blood.

This is so strange... Kimberly smells things here, Kyle heard things here and I see everything different from them... just why? Are we all going crazy?

"Let's skip this floor then... it might be something dangerous."

"No, Kyle and Ben might be in danger! We have to find them." Before she can run ahead of me I stop her.

"Alright, but I will go first. Otherwise we will lose each other as well."

Luckily she seems to agree and we walk to the place where she smells blood.

"It's here." She whispers as we stand by the door.

"Alright."

Carefully I open the door and shine my light inside the dark room.

"Bob? I-Is that you?" I ask the man sitting slumped over on a chair, wearing a familiar diving suit.

"Liam..." Kimberly tries, but I ignore her and step into the room.

"Hey, wake up. We gotta go!"

I place my hand on his shoulder and give it a hard shake.

His head slowly rolls off and falls onto the ground, leaving me in a dark cloud of red mist.

"Liam!" Kimberly yells, but I can't locate her.

Blindly I stumble around, until I can clearly hear something break from beneath me.

I curse loudly, as I can feel something stab me and fall down.

I fall pretty fast, but water is still water, so it's at least a little bit slower. Yet not slow enough to fall multiple floors down.

As I finally stop falling, I open my eyes, cursing the fact that I'm still alive and that this isn't some terrible nightmare.

This place is awfully dark, just like the rest of the bottom.

It luckily doesn't take long for me to find my flashlight.

"Hey Kimberly! I'm okay!" I yell at what I think is above.

I shine my flashlight around me, is this... a morgue?

It sure looks like one.

Did I fall into the basement?

And are the floors that weak?

Then I hear a noise.

Something behind the table.

For a moment I hold my breath, something is there. I know it and it might be dangerous.

In the dark I hear the moving of a creature.

Quickly I shine my flashlight towards it.

It feels long that I'm standing here, it's slowly getting colder.

The creature seems to have stood still for a while, but then it moves into the light.

Out of the darkness appears a young boy, about ten years or so, teddy bear in his arms.

No diving suit, nothing that could help him breathe. He slowly walks towards me, not even swimming as if there is no water here at all.

But even stranger than all that is... I know him.

I know him.

Why? From all the people that it could have been... Why does it have to be him?

Carefully I take a step back.

"But... you're not here anymore..." I utter.

The child before me takes another step closer to me and I another back.

"Are you scared of me?" He asks in a rather sad tone, somehow also sounding as if we are above water. The expression on his face is one of deep sorrow.

"Y-yes." I answer honestly, but my answer makes me feel guilty immediately.

I can't think straight anymore, am I really underwater? Or was that a dream?

Is that child before me really...?

No that can't be...

Ronan has died long ago, I know it, I was there when it happened.

I wonder what would have come from him had he survived.

Would he have been taller than me?

Would he have become the person he wanted to be?

"Is something wrong?" He asks, this time without getting closer.

Suddenly I feel a burning sensation on my lip, I must have been biting it and causing it to bleed.

Without thinking my hand goes up to my helmet, I want to loosen it.

"DON'T!" Ronan suddenly yells at me while rushing to me, trying to pull my hand down: "If you do that, you will certainly die!"

I push him away.

"Don't you even remember me?" He asks in tears.

"Of course I do, I'm sorry... just how...?"

"I can't answer everything, there is something here. A monster. And I need to save you." Ronan puts on a brave face.

I shake my head: "Why? Just why? How can I be certain that you will? For all I know, you might be the monster."

For a moment he looks down, but quickly he turns his face back to me again: "Because I promised I would protect you."

"When?"

"Always! Since you were a baby. I always said that I would protect my little brother!"

"But now you're-"

"Yes, I know! No need to remind me. I'm sorry I left so early, but even so, I never stopped caring for you or watching over you! You don't deserve to die down here!"

Before I know it my vision gets all blurry from my tears.

It's really him.

How could I forget that determination from him?

But with the good, the bad memories return too.

The reason why he went to this hospital.

"Liam, we need to hurry." Ronan pulls me back to the present.

"You're right."

"Please take this." He says as he hands me his teddy bear.

"Thanks... but why?"

"It was meant to be given by me on your birthday, but you know I couldn't."

I don't answer, I just can't.

"So... will you trust me now?"

"Yes." I whisper as he takes my hand.

.

.

.

A search has started for the missing group.

Even the police and the army have gotten involved now, searching desperately.

As the sky slowly turns dark, there is still no sign of the divers.

Despairingly James helps with the search, checking every second for one of the missing to send an SOS. But even the location sharing that should have worked just fine has stopped functioning.

Adding insult to injury, there even seems to be a storm approaching.

"Goddammit." James curses quietly, frantically looking for another way to be useful in helping.

As the first few drops of rain come down, they are still searching.

"You still haven't heard anything?" One of the officers asks James.

"No, I haven't. I just hope those guys down there are okay."

"They have been down there for more than six hours, right?" He asks: "Sorry to say this, but it would be a miracle-"

A loud beeping suddenly interrupts the officer.

James rushes towards the machine.

"We found them! Or at least one of them."

An hour later they pull out one of the men of the group.

They remove his helmet to see that even though he is wounded, he is still breathing.

Though there is something strange about him.

He is holding an old teddy bear in his arms.