Hidden Ritual

Coffins for robots

Happy new year!!

Here's a short horror story I wrote that's part of the book I'm currently writing: 'Book of the Apocalypse' (You can read this without having ready anything from the book itself).

Word count: 1300

TW: Gore, blood, spiders, bodyhorror

Quietly I let my electric motorcycle come to a halt, leaving me and the world around me alone with the light of the moon and the stars.

I really need a place to stay the night, even though sleep is hard to find and even feared in times like these. Still it’s nice to have a place to rest.

I park my bike, locking it is unnecessary, there might just be me left after all.

Me in the whole wide world.

Me and the monsters.

Me on my own.

Well no time to be sulking about it, I will be fine on my own… probably.

I look at the dark building before me, once this would probably have been a proud church. People must have gone here in search of sanctuary and now it is my turn.

The place looks abandoned, even though most of the windows seem to be intact.

Well, lucky me.

No sleeping with the whispering wind that takes away my warmth tonight.

I decide to quit standing around doing nothing and make my way towards the giant doors.

One of them is slightly ajar.

I glance inside…

No movement.

It looks empty.

But somehow it freaks me out.

I don’t like this place, something about it just feels worse than wrong.

I sigh and try to get myself to toughen-up again: come on Sara, now is not the time. You’ve slept in places far worse than this.

Against the screaming feeling in my gut, my tired head takes control and I walk inside the cold building.

It’s freezing in here, it must have been a while since it had felt a warm body walk inside.

I wrap my arms around me in order to keep myself warm.

Accidently I startle myself by almost tripping over an old stone, making it echo and letting me know by sound just how big and empty the place really is.

It reminds me a bit of the place I slept in a couple of nights ago even though completely different it gave off the same hollow vibe.

It was a small cabin in which a murder had taken place, yeah the body like the smell was long gone, but the markings and stains still remained.

And the feeling.

The feeling of the terror the victim felt.

The feeling of the twisted villain that had committed it for its own filthy reasons.

God, the feeling I get from these places never seems to leave.

It’s almost as if they’re following me around everywhere I go, as untold stories lingering besides me, waiting for a moment to strike me at my lowest.

I’ve always known, even at a young age, even before the world went to shit, if someone had died at a place I was visiting.

And I can say with full certainty, that people have died here as well.

Unlike the other place, there have been more than one.

Perhaps even the whole church at some point.

Carefully I scan my surroundings, checking every bench and every corner, listening to any possible sound from an enemy.

There seems to be nothing here in this giant building.

Nothing at all.

Somehow… it’s just too quiet.

As I’m inspecting the kitchen I suddenly hear something loud coming from outside.

I better check it out in order to see if it’ll be a danger to me.

Taking a side door outside I find myself within a strange looking graveyard.

There are both big coffins standing above ground, made out of some kind of stone or perhaps metal.

There are also normal grave stones, but these seem to be in a much worse condition than the coffins.

Vigilantly I walk towards one of them.

I open the coffin’s lid.

It’s heavy and I need to push it away with my entire weight.

Panting I watch as the heavy lid falls loudly onto the floor.

I need to know what’s going on here. I keep telling myself even though I feel myself wavering.

Quietly I take a peek.

An ever so soft blue light is coming out of the coffin, so soft, it barely reflects back.

Someone is inside.

Or perhaps something?

A human figure seems to be lying inside.

Unmoving.

Unbreathing.

But for some reason, I know that it’s not a corpse.

Or at least that there’s no feeling that they once were human.

Believe me, I know when it is.

I can feel it.

This before me, although looking very human, is nothing more than a doll.

Soulless.

Never to move.

Except for in horror movies back in the day.

Suddenly I hear something move.

A shadow is standing in the distance.

The shadow of someone dressed rather old-fashioned.

A nun.

She seems to be carrying something heavy.

There is no way that she is human.

With my hand I immediately touch my trusted gun, calming me down a little, I don’t take it out just yet.

Quickly I glance back at the inside of the coffin.

Were the dolls eyes always open?

Swiftly I look back at where I spotted the moving shadow, only to find it having disappeared.

I sneak behind the coffin, hoping the nun hasn’t taken notice of me yet.

Hiding, I look around.

I better not stay here for long.

My bike. I need to get back to it!

The faster the better!

Scanning my surroundings I decide on multiple paths I could possibly take.

It’s good to have more than one plan of escape.

I should quietly zigzag around the graves, there are enough places to hide. For me as well as the nun…

I take another glance around and then finally make a run for it towards another coffin.

It’s closed like the rest, but this time I decide not to waste any time and just continue.

Quietly I rush towards another, still paying attention to everything, sound, feeling, sight. The things that have saved me countless times.

I hide behind another and another, until I’m finally at the one closest to the church.

I spot the familiar shadow of my bike, standing at the place I left it.

Another look around and I book it towards my vehicle.

But before I reach it a strange sound makes me stop.

It’s coming from right next to my bike.

Something like laughing, though it clearly never belonged to a human being.

It’s her again…

A shadow is towering over my main way of escape.

I now get a good look at it.

The nun’s clothes look haggard and her body exists out of both machine and human parts.

A zombie.

One of her eyes suddenly drops onto the floor, there isn’t much bounce in it, so it just drops into a mush.

A black fluid starts to slowly leave the empty hole and I spot many small spiders crawling inside.

I almost jump back.

The zombie nun then opens her mouth, licking her lips showing how hungry she is.

Before I know it I’m running away as fast as I can.

I glance behind me to see what she’s doing and find her almost catching up to me.

I should have never glanced back…

Something has taken hold of my arm.

It’s a doll.

But not the one from the coffin I had opened.

Could it be that all these coffins were filled with dolls?

Could they somehow be like the zombies?

I try to get loose, but another pair of arms grabs me as well.

Taking my gun, I start firing at everything that moves, but it’s useless.

I’m quickly disarmed.

My trusted weapon drops onto the grass with a soft thud.

Panicking, I start hitting whatever I can, but everything is just going too fast.

I can’t feel anything.

A strange half-digital sounding laugh coming from the nun’s croaked throat brings me back to reality.

I can feel my body turn cold.

Fuck!

It knew! It knew all along!

How could it have predicted this?

Zombies should be unable to do so!

Just what the hell is this?!

A face appears before me.

The weathered mechanical nun looks at me with a crooked smile as she slams her weapon down onto me.

Once more she opens her mouth and somehow words spill out of it and I can clearly understand.

“Now pray.”

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.

Seashell

Here's the most recent short horror story I wrote:)

Word count: 772

TW: Gore

Many years ago the harsh summer heat had killed most of the crops needed to feed a small town.

All were coloured brown and mushy even before being picked.

Autumn was quickly approaching and the people had to come up with a solution in order to save up enough to be able to live through the soon to arrive winter.

The town had gathered to speak of the matter and to find a possible solution.

"Maybe we should ask the other towns for help." One of the men offered.

"No, their crops have all perished as well. If not they must have the devil in their grounds." Another shouted, refuting the other.

Idea after idea was being turned down with refutes like 'too dangerous' or 'against all that is holy' or 'just plain stupid'.

This conversation that existed mostly of panicked yelling continued on for a bit, almost turning into a fight.

"Maybe we should try the sea?" A young child offered, it was a wonder that they were even heard. Their tiny voice was so soft, yet somehow still being audible to the people.

The room turned silent.

Perhaps it was the idea itself that had spoken the loudest, attracting everyone's attention.

The town usually fished during winter, but perhaps this was their only option right now.

Without food, they just wouldn't last.

And thus the decision was made.

All the capable men of the village would be sent out with the few ships they had, one to fish and another to travel further.

It didn't take long before departure.

Women and children stayed behind and wished the travellers 'See you soon'.

One of the families that was split that day was that of the shoemakers. The husband and oldest son went on the ship, while the wife and four other children stayed behind in the village.

The oldest son was about fourteen, back then seen almost as a grown-up and had to help at the ship like everyone else.

Their ship was the one traveling further.

At first all seemed to be going well.

For food they fished and in their first catch, the shoemaker found a beautiful seashell. He immediately knew that he wanted to give it to his wife when he would return, so he hid it in his pockets.

A couple of days went by and then it all went wrong.

A storm had caught the ship and its crew before they could flee.

Waves as high as castle towers threw themselves at the ship, causing the ship to make an eerie hollow sound at first and then the sound of something breaking could be heard.

One wave after another crashed the ship further, making it move sideways, causing the big wooden construct to lie down in the water.

The panicking crew ran around, tumbling, screaming.

The shoemaker dropped the shell he had found and tried to jump after it.

Just in time he caught it from falling off, but a piece of splintered wood impaled him and dragged him into the hungry ocean.

He was not the only one to succumb to this fate.

On the golden beach the shoemaker's wife looked towards the dark clouds in the distance.

Are they okay? She wondered, would the crew come back all right with a solution for the winter?

The woman stopped walking, while the wind gently blew her hair and skirt into a dance.

She bowed down, something in the cold, wet sand had taken her attention.

Something stuck out.

It was a beautiful seashell, one foreign to the village people.

It glistened welcoming in the sunlight, its smooth service almost seemed to reflect herself back to her like a mirror would.

There was just something soothing about the object lying before her.

The woman reached down for the shell and felt the cold touch her fingers, she was going to take this with her.

Would the sea take it back if she didn't take it?

Or would another be captured by its beauty and take it with them?

The shell had appeared before her and only her, so it's hers now.

Arriving back home she placed it above the fireplace in the living room.

As she put it down, she heard something strange.

Was it the rain?

She quickly glanced outside to the darker growing sky, yet no drop of water had shown itself.

Was that the sound of wood breaking?

The woman looked around, but found nothing breaking. Neither by child nor wind.

The dark clouds started to swallow the land.

The woman picked the shell up again.

The shell was making the sounds.

She held it next to her ear.

At first she heard nothing.

But then she heard the voice of her husband.

"Dearest, the ship went down." He spoke as if he was in the freezing cold.

"Our son is still at sea."

"If not saved quickly, he too will join the rest of us."

If I could travel back in time

This is a short horror story I wrote.

TW: Gore, psychological horror

If I could travel back in time, I would have changed a lot of things.

Would you?

I wouldn't just do better at everything or undo certain mistakes, I would probably become your friend.

Do you remember, when we were little, that we actually lived quite close to each other? Y'know when you're born here you just don't seem willing to leave. All the locals have this problem.

Well anyway, your house was just a couple of streets away from mine.

Back then we even went to the same kindergarten, we would play in the sandbox together from time to time. You were almost always the quiet one in class, I was the only one wanting to interact with you.

Even with all that I wish I had gotten to know you better.

Our parents could have been such good friends, they share some of the same interests, don't they?

We could go anywhere we wanted together, maybe catch a movie or go swimming?

I know you liked those things back then.

I wish we still had that time.

We didn't go to the same elementary school, but if I could go back, I would have made sure we went together.

You were really into board games back then, right? Did you like chess? A classic, I know. I totally suck at it, but I think that game fits you. We still could have played it together.

Do you remember around that time my aunt's dog went missing, we never found out what happened to him. And that wasn't the only missing animal from around that time.

I wish I could go back, since around that time I could still change the outcome.

We did have junior and high school together.

You got bullied around this time, you didn't accept help from anyone and I never got close to you. I'm sorry.

If I had just one chance to go back, I would show you that the world is still filled with kind people who love to help others. We would have gone to the same classes, have the same boring teachers and maybe break some rules for fun. We could do our internships together or work at the same place.

But it's too late now.

After school I would take you traveling, to see the world. Like I did before, just not with you.

If you wanted to go to a city, we could maybe go to London or even Paris. Not sure where we would get the money, but if I time traveled I could probably win us a lottery or something.

Maybe you prefer nature, then we could visit Canada or Iceland. I sure would have loved to go there someday. And you do seem more like the type to enjoy nature.

Anyway I'm sure we could have had a lot of fun.

So why... even if you don't know me...

We could start working for the same company, somewhere you feel at rest... at peace. No bullying, no annoying bosses that force their employees to work themselves half to death.

It might be boring to your standards, but I could make it more fun for you.

When you would feel down, I would make you feel better. If you would be sick, I would come visit you and make you soup.

I would do so much for you, just to make sure this wouldn't happen. We would have been the best of friends. We would be inseparable.

I try so hard to imagine you as a good person, as a good human being.

Like a good friend.

But it's just stupid.

I can't think of anything good about you.

I didn't know you back then, but now I do.

Imagining good things or fun situations with you, just feels awful.

I know I wasn't there for you in your darkest moments, but I never wronged you or hurt you.

So why?

Oh well, it doesn't matter.

It's just too late.

For you and for me.

I already suspected you for a while, even when the police didn't find enough evidence.

Well you sure did what I expected you to do. I don't know why I even went with you., but I went prepared.

Now I lie here, just like the others. With a bloody red neck tattoo and dirt in my face.

I don't feel anymore.

I don't see anymore.

My hands are like ice.

Just like them.

Just like you soon.

You were stressed this time.

I could feel it.

You weren't careful enough

I fought back, but even though I didn't survive I got evidence of your crime.

I also have people already looking for me as I lie here, staring empty at you shoveling more dirt to cover my ghostly pale body.

This never had to have happened.

Well I don't really care about what will happen to you anymore.

But I'm certain you will be found, you will be taken.

You will be put in a small, dark room. Darker than your soul.

You will spend your eternity there until we will come to pick you up.

Oh, just you wait until we get you...

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:

Delivery

A short horror story I wrote:)

Word count: 1757

TW: Gore, psychological horror

Click, click, click, thunk!

It could not comprehend what it saw above us.

A scarlet red sky greets us as we finally left the dusty old warehouse.

Dark buildings casted their shadows over the old and empty streets, only letting red light stream into view at specifical parts, showing what I wish not to see, almost like a spotlight on a stage.

To be honest I’m glad that the package I have to deliver can walk by itself. The thing would be way too heavy to carry.

Standing slightly shorter than an adult, this porcelain-looking (I don’t know, I’m not the collector, might be porcelain after all) automaton, is the object I’m meant to deliver.

Since the world has gone to hell, I’ve been doing deliveries for people with money and resources that are too scared to get stuff by themselves.

It’s a dangerous job, but to survive in need of things like food. This, right now, is the most comfortable job.

I point towards one of the dark buildings, only one of the door handles on which can be seen the reflection of the red light.

The automaton turns its head slowly upwards to look at me and then turns its head to the door. I can hear the gears working overtime.

Carefully and slowly we make our way to the door.

At the door I stop and the package does the same.

I swear that is some great tech…

While readying my crossbow, I listen to all the sounds around me.

The trusty sound of my crossbow.

The gentle ticking of the automaton’s gears.

The dripping of water… or blood.

Then I turn my concentration to whatever is behind the heavy doors.

The quickest way to the point of delivery is right through this building, so there isn’t much of a choice. Of course I could walk around it, but the chance of being seen by monsters is too big of a risk and I’m unsure if the little one here can run or not.

It was so strange, well the whole thing.

The guy that wanted me to get the automaton… crazy inventors I guess.

I found the machine inside a coffin shaped box.

I was told that the machine could walk and that I should use that to my advantage, so of course I did.

I can’t carry a whole coffin in my lonesome, no matter how hard I train.

A soft sobbing behind the door takes my attention.

I listen more carefully.

There is a distinct difference between the cries of a monster and that of a human luckily.

So, there might be another survivor in there.

My hand hovers over the doorknob, which looks almost to be glowing thanks to the lighting.

I’m scanning it in a way, trying to sense if there’s any heat coming from it.

But there’s no warmth coming from it and as I finally lower my hand I feel the cold iron entering through my gloved hand.

It might sound bad, like it’s completely frozen, but it isn’t. It’s just clear that it has been a long time since the door was opened last.

As quietly as possible I turn the knob and open the door.

The heavy object lets out a, for my feeling, too loud creaking.

Immediately I feel cold sweat in my neck.

Slowly. Slowly. Slowly. Carefully. Careful. Be careful!

I nod to the automaton that it can enter, but it doesn’t understand.

“Get in!” I whisper to it.

I can hear some of the gears turn, finally it responds entering the darkness without a word or hesitation.

I follow suit and close the door behind me again, terrified that something might have heard it.

Suddenly I sense something moving.

There really is still someone in the building.

Let’s hope that it isn’t one of the insane roaming around.

The constant blood red sky doesn’t help much when it comes to calming folks down.

Exposed too long and one might lose their mind… or so is told. I haven’t had any trouble with it yet.

There’s a shadow moving, well more like trembling in fear, behind the altar.

The red light behind him exposes him to be a priest.

Calmly I walk forward, until I make out his wrinkled face.

The look he shows me is one of pure terror.

I lower my weapon.

“Good evening sir.” I greet him, while holding my free hand up in the air to show that I’m not planning to do any harm.

“Y-y-you’re not o-one of t-them?” He asks, still trembling and almost falling over his own words from fear.

“No sir, as you can see I’m not.”

I sense the ticking of gears approaching closer to me and the priest shrieks.

I see him opening his mouth to scream, but I won’t let him. In a flash I rush over to him and cover his mouth with my hand.

“I need to deliver this package in one piece, so please don’t give away our location.” Then I silently add: “That would benefit you too.”

I can feel the thin old body shaking in fear, making me feel bad for scaring him like this.

Slowly he closes his mouth again and falls to his knees.

Quivering he puts his hands together, but just before his two hands touch, he drops them to the floor again.

“We’re just passing through, I don’t have a problem with you praying.” I tell him in a gentle tone.

The old man shakes his head, his state says it all, he’s seen too much.

“I-I don’t think God i-is h-here.” He cries.

I’m not a person of faith, I never was, so I’m not sure what to tell him.

“Do… Do you think I-I’m wrong?” He asks after listening to my silence: “T-that there never t-truly was a G-God?”

I sigh, just what the hell am I supposed to answer to a priest who has lost his faith?

“Sir.” I bow down to him, holding out a hand for him to help him up: “I just deliver packages. I don’t know what is the truth and what isn’t.”

He doesn’t take my hand and instead turns his head to the dusty floor: “Perhaps the teachings were wrong after all…” He mutters more to himself than to me.

I scratch the back of my neck: “Well…” Don’t say it, just don’t: “There’s a place with other survivors I can bring you to, if you want that is.” Only in my head I add ‘You can talk about this stuff with them’.

But he shakes his head.

“Leave! You won’t understand!” His voice is suddenly filled with anger and frustration.

“We’ll be going anyway.” I shrug.

“Leave!” He yells again and I suddenly hear something big climbing over the roof.

I curse and quickly grab the automaton’s arm.

“We gotta go!”

We rush further back.

Back door. Back door.

Where the hell is the back door?!

Part of the ceiling breaks down and a huge, spider like monster drops down, casting the room in even more shadow.

I hear the priest scream.

The monster turns to him.

I can’t see anything, but the next thing I hear confirms my suspicion.

The crushing of bones.

The tearing of flesh.

The dripping of blood.

As I turn back to the machine, it seems almost as if it found the door.

It’s holding it open and looking at me with its normal expressionless face.

“Great job, buddy!” I whisper to him, taking his arm again and rushing back out into the crimson coloured streets.

In order to keep to the shadows, we enter another building.

I believe this was a university at some point, built around the 13th century.

It’s much bigger than the church.

Again I hold my weapon ready.

You never know, it’s because this building is so big, it could be a nest for those things.

“Let’s be quiet.” I whisper to the mechanical being next to me and immediately think about how strange it is to talk to it. It’s a machine, not a human or a pet.

But it’s nice to have something to talk to, even if it’s just a bundle of gears and porcelain. As long as it’s not a hungry monster I’m okay with anything.

While wandering around I sense something moving inside one of the rooms.

I stop in my tracks and as the automaton notices, it too stops.

I remain silent and listen to the soft noise.

There might be another person in that room.

Quietly I walk towards the door and open it.

A person inside is sitting behind a desk that I'm pretty sure used to be a teacher’s.

This person doesn’t look as frightened as the priest from before, or perhaps I’m imagining it.

“Oh… so you’re human?”

I nod: “What did you expect? Or what did you hope for?” I did notice the man’s disappointment even though it was just a slight hint.

He seems to have noticed that I noticed and turns his gaze back to something on the desk: “I used to teach here, you know.”

“I see.”

“Do you have any memories of attending school?”

I shrug: “Nothing that stands out, just a more peaceful life and worries about nothing.”

The man smiles, his face looks red in the light.

“I see, that must be nice.”

I take a step closer.

“What are you reading?” I ask curiously.

“A book of faith.”

“Faith?”

“It’s all true you know.”

“They mention the apocalypse and the end of the world.” As he speaks he loses his composure and starts speaking rapidly in a desperate tone: “It’s all because people went to church less and less. I never did after all and you certainly don’t look like the type that would. Oh God, I should have gone and prayed, but instead I’ve weakened the Lord’s power to protect. This is divine punishment.”

“I see.” I answer: “If you want to, I can take you to where the other survivors are.”

The teacher shakes his head: “Never! We are meant to perish! It’s the only thing that can save this forsaken world!”

Crap that only made him yell even louder.

I notice a strange shadow in the corner of my eye.

Something from outside is trying to climb inside.

Arms that almost look human, but also very far from it.

I warn the man by pointing behind him.

“God is the one who decides my faith! You should join me in it!” He stretches out his arms to grab me, but instead the creature behind him has already taken hold of him.

I don’t want to see what happens next, so I quickly rush out of the classroom, taking the automaton with me.

We rush out, further, out of the city.

Into a forest, here even the leaves are red, but not scarlet like the sky.

As I believe that we’re far enough away from the shadows of the old city, we slow down.

I take a seat on a tree trunk and let my traveling companion sit next to me.

“Don’t mind all those people, buddy, just decide what you want to believe for yourself.”

Slowly I see the automaton’s head go up and down and then up again.

Wait…?!

Is it nodding?!

The tree

The most recent short horror story I wrote:)

Word count: 722

TW: Psychological horror

Rain mixed salt with fresh water.

It's quite cold for a spring day, I think to myself as I close my coat to protect my body against the harsh weather.

I wander around outside and I suddenly find myself by an old tree, one that is rather famous around here.

None of the locals are sure if it is even still alive or dead.

Its bark looks so dark on the outside, as if it had been burned long ago and for one reason or another it never blossomed. It feels cold to the touch.

The place where it stands is rather strange too, it has the endless sea as its background.

Like I always do when I pass by, I stop for a bit, just to watch. Even without leaves it seems to immerse the place around it in shadow.

I've heard people talk about how it might have been a place where people were hung. But those stories have never been more than whispers, there's simply nothing to prove it. If you were to search the local archive you wouldn't find anything about it either.

I look towards the sea, for some reason the tree makes it look almost melancholy or sad.

This rain doesn't help a lot either, but even when the sun is shining, it's this tree that causes all to look depressing.

Happy families playing in the sea won't make it look any happier, not even weddings that take place on the warm sand.

As long as this tree is here, it will never make this a happy place.

There have been times in the past that people wanted to remove it, but it never seemed to go down.

Perhaps the whispers are true, that it's cursed, but I am not one for such superstitions.

In a way, I believe that this tree does also hold something beautiful and mysterious, like a long forgotten memory from which it is uncertain if it's a good or bad one. Perhaps it's neither of those, but never a dull one.

I watch as the raindrops fall down from the branches and darken the sandy ground beneath it.

It's just straight ahead if I wanted to go to the beach, I might go there if I feel like it, but I'm not sure yet.

Suddenly I hear a voice coming from behind the tree, at first it was the wind or the sound of the waves, but it really is a voice. I can't catch the words, they sound muffled by the rain.

I look to see and find a trembling girl behind me.

She's barefoot and looks dirty.

Her eyes are red from crying.

I estimate her age to be around 14.

Without a second thought I take off my coat and wrap it around her.

"Are you okay?" I ask, glancing around to see if I can see any other sign of life around us, but finding none.

She nods, still trembling.

I take a step back and take out my phone, ready to call whoever.

As I finally dialled 911, I look back to where the girl had stood...

She's not there anymore, like she had vanished into thin air.

Swiftly I look around, but she's nowhere to be seen.

I call out for her a couple of times, but no one calls back.

A 911 operator picks up and I try my best to explain what just happened and I don't get the feeling she believes me, telling me to just go home and not stay out in this weather.

I return home and close the door behind me.

As I sneeze I notice that I've already caught a cold, I should probably go take a hot shower.

But before I can even remove my soaked clothes I hear a knock at the door.

I'm surprised that someone would want to visit me in this weather.

Quickly, as to not get the unknown guest get soaked as well, I rush towards the door and open it.

"Good afternoon." A local cop greets me: "Does this coat belong to you?"

In his hand he's holding the coat I was wearing earlier.

I nod: "Yes it is.", but before I can take it back he retrieves it again, showing that another cop is behind him as well.

"We just got word of a disturbed piece of land and found a body there." He continues with a cold gaze that never leaves me: "This was found at the scene, hanging on one of the branches of the tree."

The puppet master

A short horror story I wrote.

Word count: 777 (Lucky number:) )

TW: Body horror, psychological horror & gore

The room is dark.

Is it even really a room?

I don't know.

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

The stage lights are for my puppet show.

I control all here.

I am the puppet master here.

An invisible jester.

A magician without a wand.

And a wordless storyteller.

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

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

A show of the fortunate.

A show of the unfortunate.

An everyday story.

An awesome adventure.

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

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

Maybe they are my veins.

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

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

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

Maybe we are alike.

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

This is going to be another great show.

This is going to be another great day.

Another hope for applause.

Another hope for approval.

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

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

No time.

The show starts.

And the curtains rise.

The protagonist wakes up and gets ready for its work.

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

Did I really?

Perfect, it is all going smoothly.

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

It decides to watch tv.

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

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

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

Some audience members seem to relate.

Isn't this all just in my head?

The next morning, the same routine starts.

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

Continuing, something happens at work.

Something bad.

The protagonist is treated worse than before.

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

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

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

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

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

The protagonist meets the bully.

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

Then suddenly a thread snaps.

It is the one controlling the emotions.

Voiceless I scream.

It hurts.

It hurts.

It hurts really bad.

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

So it was a vein?

The empty darkness is shocked.

This is not heroic at all!

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

One by one they snap, leaving me in anguish.

So much pain.

All threads turn grey.

Yet I can't scream or cry.

The public starts booing.

They are already bored, they wanted a hero.

They wanted an interesting story.

A totally unique story.

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

A story so strange, but also so normal.

Real and fake.

I need to change something.

I need to do something!

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

The threads of the others.

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

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

My puppet show is ruined.

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

It's face filled with broken emotions.

It is broken.

They are broken.

Slowly the protagonist walks my way.

Were they always this tall?

Was the size just an illusion?

Maybe it is magic...

Step by step they get closer.

Each step sounding more human than the last.

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

No weapons.

Not even words.

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

I look to my sides for help.

Only the ignoring darkness stares at me.

Watching, blind eyed.

I wasn't good enough.

I'm not real.

It seems I was the puppet all along.

The only 'it' in this play was me.

Just ignore it

One of the first stories I posted on wattpad.

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

Word count: 1105

TW: Psychological horror

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

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

I quickly go inside.

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

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

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

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

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

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

It is quiet.

It has always been quiet.

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

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

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

Just nature taking over this school, this empty building.

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

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

I return home without looking back.

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

I love the silence.

I enjoy the emptiness.

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

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

It's all fake anyway.

It's all useless anyway.

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

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

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

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

It takes the empty seat next to me.

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

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

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

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

And just like always, another day has passed.

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

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

Then lunch comes around.

The new student is getting more annoying.

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

It's becoming more and more difficult.

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

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

Then it started walking and I am forced to follow.

We go up to the rooftop.

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

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

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

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

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

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

She looks like...

me...

Why does she look like me?

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

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

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

I remain silent.

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

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

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

So annoying.

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

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

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

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

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

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

In silence I continue towards the door.

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

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

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

"I don't want it."

I shove her aside and return to class.

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

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

She probably won't return.

She must have left.

Given up entirely.

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

She has no power over this place, unlike me.

I don't want to leave this place.

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

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

My own safe little world.

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

See, it all works perfectly fine.

I'm perfectly fine.

Nothing is wrong.

As long as I just ignore it all

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

I can hear its creaking.

But like always... I just ignore it.

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.