My Colleague

Angelic monster

A short horro story I wrote:)

TW: Blood & psychological horror

I've been such a coward.

Never before have I stooped this low.

Never before have I done something like this out of fear.

Yes, it's all because of a fear that can thoroughly be explained and the reason is an understandable one.

But somehow the feeling I got from doing it hasn't left me.

It's like it's slowly rubbing my back, poisoning my skin.

It has burned itself deep into my soul and the chills I got from that day still haven't disappeared in the slightest.

I dislike this feeling.

I hate this memory.

It feels like I will have to watch my back until my last breath.

That day I went with my students to do research on a strange cave that had been recently found, I'm a teacher you see.

We were driven there by the group that secretly had been holding my family hostage, I knew, but pretended not to and I was lucky that none of my students noticed.

The group wanted me to investigate this cave in order for more power.

It was said that monsters had been created from this cave.

The research I had done before had proven that somehow it's real.

That's when they found out.

My God, why did I have to find it?!

Why did I have to be the one to do this?

If I could go back in time...

Well it doesn't matter anymore now, everyone is dead.

All my students have been killed, every single one of them.

I still remember all their faces, I still remember their ideas, their wishes and the possible futures they could have had.

Well... I don't really want to go on about them anymore.

We found and caught the monster that was needed for the group's project. They needed a weapon and that's the one they wanted.

A monster that could destroy cities with ease.

Somehow the one we found looks much different from what had been foretold in the stories I had studied, no hairy paws or yellow eyes, but it was a monster nonetheless.

A monster of great skill and strength beyond that of a simple human being.

Now years later, the monster sits before me.

It has an almost angelic appearance, with white wings on its back like a lower class angel from the bible.

Its skin is dark grey, its form almost human, and covered with small white feathers, except for on its neck, face and claws. The head somehow has longer feathers growing out of it, like the hair on a human's head.

Its claws are like a combination of that from a bird and the hands of a person.

Having five 'fingers' on each hand that are more longer and slender than that of a human being and of course ending in sharp nails.

The other researchers and I have been unable to find out the gender of the creature, which is another strange thing. But then again, it's just a monster, nothing more, nothing less. It has already killed so many.

It snuffed out their lives like it was nothing and it will surely do so again.

Somehow, by continued teaching it has mastered the human language.

And now it sits before me, eerily calm.

There is a thick glass wall between us, since this monster is being used by the group as a weapon and is of course still a danger to everyone.

"Professor, what is it that you wanted to talk about?" the monster asks politely.

I can feel myself growing irritated by its tone.

Since when did it believe to address me by 'Professor'? That was reserved for my students, not this monstrosity.

Still I decide to let it slide for now, I don't want to anger it.

"Well..." I hesitate, while mustering up the courage: "It's about that day."

"I see." The monster looks down, does it remember? Does it feel guilt for what it has done?

"The day you found me, I assume." It guesses.

I nod: "That day I will never forget how you slaughtered my students." I almost growl at it whilst glaring.

"I didn't." It answers as if trying to hide its guilt.

I hate it.

I hate this monster.

"I want to know what went down there." I demand it: "How did you get there and why were you there?"

The monster hesitates for a moment but then begins to answer: "Well, I don't remember too much about that place. I believe that there are things I don't know about it at all."

"Be more clear."

"Yes, professor, I'm sorry."

"Quit calling me that." I guess I'm saying it now anyways.

It stops for a moment, almost looking shocked from my sudden burst of anger. Well it probably doesn't feel that anyway, I must have imagined it.

Then it nods as I sign to it that it should continue.

"From what I heard about the cave, it could be used as a way to conjure up monsters or demons."

"Go on."

"I don't think you would want to hear it."

"Continue." I say glaring at the monster.

It sighs in discomfort and then does as told: "I believe that there is something inside that cave that has the ability to turn something or someone who enters into a so-called monster."

"Yes, we noticed with the rat."

"Pro- erm, I mean sir, why did those students got sent inside? If you knew-."

I don't let it finish: "It was an emergency."

I was powerless that day, I couldn't do anything. It's not my fault.

"So, then do you remember entering the cave?"

To my displeasure the monster shakes its head: "No I don't. There are no memories from before I awoke."

"Awoke?"

"The moment I heard their screams."

"Well you are the monster of that place after all."

"Sir, I actually don't believe that to be the case."

Annoyed, I look at it: "And what the hell does that mean?"

"Like some of the other scientists say, I don't believe to have come from there, nor am I the creature you have been looking for. I'm just too different."

"They are just toying with you, giving you false hope, you're a monster after all."

Is it just me or did it seem slightly annoyed when I called it what I did?

No that can't be.

For a moment it remains silent.

"But then, isn't the monster in this situation yourself?" The monster then asks me as if it was something completely normal.

"What?! No! You're the monster, you are the reason they died." I panic, wondering what it is trying to do to me..

"I didn't kill them. I tried to save them all."

"Bullshit! You killed them, you were covered in blood when we found you!" I yell as I feel my face growing red. Why would it say such terrible things?

Somehow the monster remains completely calm.

"I didn't kill them." It repeats: "I tried to save them, but the one who went rampant was already killing the others even before I awoke."

"SHUT UP!"

But the monster continues: "I saved one person though, the girl, one of your students, she left the cave alive."

Rage has filled my mind and I'm unable to think clearly.

"I didn't do anything wrong!!!" I yell, slamming my fist against the glass.

But then calmly the angelic monster throws the undeniable truth in my face:

"Wasn't it you who pulled the trigger?"

The book

A short horror story I wrote.

Word count: 1504

TW: blood & grief

I look up from my phone as I hear the noise of falling books.

It seems that Camilla has pushed Emily again.

My shy classmate is lying on the floor with eyes red from crying, though she certainly isn't the only one.

It's the funeral of another classmate after all, Jane, now the dead girl, used to be quite popular at school.

Always running around and helping others in need, even with her status, she never forgot about others.

Yes, she did break the rules more times than anyone could count, yelled back at teachers and was overall never afraid to speak her mind.

She was hard to dislike and everyone seemed to want to be close to her.

Unfortunately this means she had few 'real' friends, very few, but I digress.

The once so joyful girl, now lays weirdly calm and quiet in the open coffin.

I can't stop myself to wonder if underneath that layer of make-up our friend really is.

Would her lips be blue?

Would her skin be cold?

I too have bawled my eyes out when I got the news, Jane was dead and yet no one seemed to know or care what had caused it.

Like it was some kind of secret, would it be bad if it came out?

As her class, we were taken to be at her wake to show our respects, but I'm pretty sure the teachers would want to hang another lesson on this.

Perhaps they might have us write an essay on death or learn from our former friend to not become like her.

It sucks.

They suck.

But from all the people here, I hate myself the most.

The last time I spoke to Jane was last week, the day before she had passed.

If I had said something different, if I could go back, if I had known.... Would I have been able to change the outcome?

Would we be in school? Would she pass me by with a smile? Would she talk back to another teacher again?

But there won't be anything like that again and honestly it is difficult to believe.

I just... I can't accept it... not yet.

As the other girls leave I walk over to Emily: "Hey, are you okay?" I ask her, while helping her gather the books.

She responds in a sad nod, though in my heart I know she's not okay.

She looked up to Jane as an older sister, the two had always been close even before high school.

I look at one of the books I help her stack up and notice how well-made they are.

"T-these are pretty." I say, my head starts hurting again from the amount I've cried, I don't think there are any more tears left.

"Thanks" Emily sniffles and then she takes one from the pile: "Here, take one... you were one of her real friends too, I can tell." A sad smile crosses her face.

"Thank you."

I carefully take the book from her hand and help her back onto her feet, after that we quickly part ways again.

I look at my phone, it seems that I still have some time before my dad comes to pick me up.

I don't feel like talking to anyone and on my phone there only seem to be posts about Jane, so I don't really feel like being on it either.

I walk to a corner where I can be alone and take a seat on the couch.

I tuck my phone in one of my pockets and open the book.

I'm pretty sure Emily has made this herself, she's very creative and this looks like her style.

Like usual she has turned it into a sort of scrapbook with fitting pictures.

When I first held it I had already noticed it being pretty heavy.

It seems to be filled with pictures.

On the first page it says: 'Goodbye Jane, our dear friend, our dear daughter', with a recent picture from the girl in question smiling brightly, the birth- and death dates are noted underneath.

She didn't get much older than sixteen.

Did her parents commission Emily to make this?

I turn the page.

So... so this is what she looked like as a baby, huh...

I wonder... are all her pictures here?

I flip through it and it seems like that might be the case, though mostly the good ones.

There are some bad ones, but even so they are more light-hearted and funny, showing all her sides.

"Only Emily could have made something like this." I mumble to myself, she was probably the closest friend after all.

I stop at a random page, here the pictures seem more recent. They are from one of her social media accounts.

Jane had always wanted to be a photographer, so there are really a ton of them. Mostly herself though, with a few pictures of scenery in between.

I flip to the next page.

Is it just my imagination... or did she just move?

I look closely at the picture.

I'm... right?

It's a picture from about four years ago, taken in a theme park.

Both Emily and Jane are in this picture.

The Ferris wheel behind them, it seems to glow... like really glow!

I hold my hand slightly above it only to see the light reflecting back at my hand.

Suddenly the sweet scents of popcorn and cotton candy enter my nose just as the sound of cheerful music enters my ears.

From the page, Jane looks at me, turning her head and smiling at me.

Quickly I slam the book shut.

I'm just imagining things right?

Weary, I look around, but it seems like no one has noticed me at all.

So, too curious, I open the book again on a random page.

This time it's a picture from four months ago.

Jane seems to be alone in a garden filled with butterflies, not only in the picture itself, but also in the scrapbook around her.

Though this time nothing seems to move.

I sigh, a bit disappointed and look up from the heavy book watching the world outside the window.

Unlike what I expected, it suddenly seemed to have turned into the butterfly garden.

I can even see Jane standing by the plants with a camera in her hands.

Without thinking I walk towards the window, still no one seemed to have noticed me, neither me nor her.

I can see some of the butterflies walking on the glass and with each breeze the dark green plants sway gently.

I place my hand on the glass and Jane notices me.

With a familiar laugh she turns to me and waves.

Then she slowly raises her camera and takes a picture of me.

As the flash ends, I'm back on the couch.

Did I not move?

Not at all?

The book is still on my lap, I haven't even closed it.

I look down at the garden picture again, but it doesn't move.

I look out of the window and am only greeted by the parking lot. Yeah, there are a few plants, but not as many as in the garden.

Jane is also nowhere to be seen.

I turn back to the book and flip it to another random page.

This time it's from four weeks ago.

Jane is standing outside, watching the sun go down on the beach.

Only her dark outline is visible at the center of the slowly darkening sky.

Still, it's a good picture.

It feels mystical and mysterious.

As nothing happens I start looking around again.

Then I notice a white wall slowly turning yellow and shortly after purple.

The lights in the room turn into stars and if I listen closely, I swear I can hear the sea.

I can smell the salt water and feel the warm sand underneath my feet.

Jane's silhouette seems to welcome me, inviting me to join her.

Suddenly a loud noise or at least louder than my thoughts, takes me out of it.

It's her family, her parents are crying.

I feel horrible and I can't even bring myself to go up to them, to tell them about how wonderful their daughter was.

How she took me, as many others, out of the darkness and back into the light.

That it's okay to make mistakes, that it's okay to cry.

But I can do nothing.

I can only go back to the book, pretending I didn't notice a thing.

I open the book again, this time on the final page.

The last picture.

It's not a picture of Jane.

It's a picture of the city at night.

Is this the final picture she made?

I look at the date.

Four days ago...

That's the last day she's been alive.

Was this the night in which she had passed?

It had to be.

The picture starts to move again.

Jane seems to be holding whatever took the photo.

She is walking, from the way she takes each step, I notice that she's anxious about something.

There aren't many lights on.

Just a single street lantern, casting shadows around itself.

Suddenly she stops.

Something is moving close to the lantern.

"W-who's there?" I hear Jane say, fear clear in her voice.

No answer.

Something is moving closer.

And then it moves faster.

Jane drops the camera, or perhaps she fell.

A loud slashing noise can be heard, followed by a couple of horrid screams.

I can't move my eyes away from it.

Blood enters the picture.

But it won't stop at the picture.

It starts to consume the book.

And it doesn't stop.

Floods and floods of blood leave the pages.

I drop it, but my hands are already stained.

It just won't stop flooding. 

The confession

A short horror story I wrote.

TW: 920

Word count: blood, gore, murder, religion

It's quiet today, yes it is most of the time in a church, but not this kind of silence... I might even be able to call it eerie.

It's so quiet it feels like there is someone here with me, just one that is able to hold their breath for a very long time or never had a breath to begin with.

From the corner of my eye I notice a dark red curtain close.

Ah, it must be someone whom is here to confess.

I carefully close the book I was reading and whilst holding it close I walk over to the one who seeks the guidance and forgiveness of God.

I enter the small room on the opposite side and close the curtain behind me.

As I sense the person in the other room make a cross, he speaks in a shaking voice: "In the n-name of the F-father, the Son a-and the Holy Spirit..."

I recognize the man's voice, it's Benjamin, the kind farmer from the edge of town.

He comes here often and is very devoted to God.

Just what could it be that scared the poor lad this much?

Ben continues his prayer: "May last confession has been..." He takes a break, seemingly deep in thought.

"I'm sorry, I... I don't know. I have been here every Sunday though, I truly didn't have anything to confess at that time."

"That is alright, I know. Please tell me what happened Ben."

"So..." He swallows loudly "It all started a couple of days ago."

"Recently my crops have been dying, much, much faster than normal. All of them are now nothing more but dust. At first I thought it was divine punishment for something, but after asking even my youngest it seemed not to be the case. There was something killing them. It didn't take long for it to go over onto my life stock, all dead. My sheep, my cows, even the little donkey.

All had been more than healthy before then.

No blood, just dead.

Of course I went to ask around and seemingly I wasn't the only one with this horrible occurrence. My neighbors Peter and Hans had the same problem.

Something has been eating away at the land. It was something evil, father.

The others and me, decided to investigate and found out that something strange happens at night.

There was something wandering our fields when even the moon and stars hid behind clouds out of fear.

We all saw them.

It looked human, a human with long dark hair.

Each time it even just passed something alive it would quickly perish.

Last night, we decided to make our move.

Armed, we followed it.

It led us into the dark forest, everything decaying in its path.

When it finally halted, Peter attacked first.

But he was touched by it by accident and turned to ash.

It was a terrible sight father! I won't ever be able to forget.

So Hans, enraged by the sudden death of our friend, screamed at it, grabbing it by its hair and yanking it back.

He held a knife to its throat ready to slice it open, and yet... he too lost his life right there.

The monster turned to me and asked: "Are you going to kill me too, mister?"

I could finally see its eyes, its horrid eyes.

I think they might have glowed, but I'm not too sure.

When the moon finally showed itself, it had turned just as blood red as the monster's eyes.

It had to have been the devil's work.

It has to!"

"What did you do?" I ask, trying to get him to continue his story, he came here to confess after all.

A strange giggle escaped the man's lips, one I have only heard once before from a madman.

"Ben! What did you do?!"

He remains silent for a bit.

Is he even still there?

"Father... I killed a child. I killed the devil's child" Ben answers with insanity clearly audible in his voice.

"Ben... you killed a child?"

Another strange giggle: "Father... I did it to save everyone. I stabbed it and stabbed it and stabbed it and stabbed it... In the end the monster even smiled at me as I cut out its facial features, to make it look more like the monster it was."

A chill runs down my spine, what in the Lord's name is going on?

Probably sensing my silence, Ben starts to weep: "My Lord... Father... I killed a child... I'm going to hell... aren't I?"

Unsure what to answer, I open my bible looking for a way to guide the man.

Suddenly I start to hear scratching on the other side, softly at first, but before I know it, it gets louder and louder.

'Is he nervous?' Is my first thought, but quickly the scratching doesn't sound human anymore.

I can't help it: "What's wrong?" I ask desperately, trying to hide my own panic.

"Father, please help me. God, please forgive me!" The man starts begging in great distress.

If this goes on, he might hurt himself, I have to get him out!

"Ben! Please, let's take a breath of fresh air! Please calm down, I'm sure He will forgive you!"

I jump out of the confessional, rush to his side and open his curtains.

But instead of being greeted by the panicked man's face, I am to an empty seat.

Empty.

No one.

Have I been talking to myself all this time?

No... The scratches are there.

The scratches in the woodwork are deep and look more to be made by some kind of animal, than a human being.

It almost looks like there is dust inside them.

With an audible gasp I take a step back, gazing into the empty room.

Then I notice something else amiss.

The light entering the church...

It has turned blood red.

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.

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.

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."

Book of the Apocalypse - Chapter 4 Nightmare

TW: Gore, blood

Word count: 778

First chapter:

I look up from the book, this wasn't really the kind of story I was suspecting.

"How far did you get?" Quiller asks me not hiding his interest at all.

"I finished... the first."

He sighs: "Not the fastest reader, are you?"

I look at him, annoyed: "I read at my own speed.... reading just like eating? The slower you read, the more you... enjoy it."

"Alright, alright. So, did you-?"

"Nah."

"What?"

"I thought... it was going to be cooler, maybe something with heroes. Even a book about a ghost might... be interesting."

Utter defeat is written all over the 'imaginary' guys face, making me chuckle.

"You're mean."

"Kind people in an apocalypse are useless."

He looks at me for a moment and then asks: "So, you're going to throw it out now?"

I look at him: "Nah. It might become more... entertwini- entertaining later on." Speaking is still difficult, especially when I try to speak without mistakes.

He gives me a sad smile.

"Why do you care?"

He hesitates for a moment to answer.

"Well, like I said, It's a pretty good book."

I nod: "Yeah, you really aren't the... writer, right?"

He looks at me in shock: "N-no... I mean..."

"Just kidding, It just said Ex Libra's Q.F. Shannon. But that might mean it used to be yours." I'm not sure, but believe I might have used a wrong word there.

"I've never owned anything." Quiller protests: "I've always been imaginary."

If I were to throw away this book right now, I would probably lose my imaginary friend with it. Or at least that is my theory. I only met him after opening this thing after all.

Yeah, it might be strange for an adult to have one. But if this keeps me from going insane, then so be it.

I will be the most childish adult in this entire apocalypse.

Even if I'm all alone in it now.

I get up from the couch and start placing traps around.

"What are you doing?"

"Making sure I won't get... my sleep disturbed... by one of those... those half-dead jerks."

"I see." Quiller mutters, slightly hesitant probably due to me cursing again.

I lie down on the old couch.

Even though it's all dusty, I haven't had such a nice bed in ages.

I've gotten used to my jacket on the floor for a while now and it doesn't take long for me to fall asleep.

I'm sitting in something I recognize as a car.

I seem to be sitting here with a bunch of people with wiped out faces.

Even though that is the case I feel strangely at ease with them.

One of them turns to me and calls me by my name.

"Yes?" I ask and the other shows me a toy, a toy car? If I'm correct.

I look outside the windows and notice that we're driving.

We move around the corner and I see strange people standing outside.

Their eyes glow strangely blue.

The car crashes into something and the strange people outside start running towards us, their mouths covered in blood.

From one moment to the next, I notice that I'm standing outside and it's dark.

It's raining outside.

I hold up my hand to the rain.

It drips onto it and then a flickering streetlight shows me that there is something wrong with the rain.

It's red.

It's thick and red.

Falling out if the heavens like rain, blood keeps pouring down.

It starts to stick to the streetlight, making the only light in my world slowly disappear.

I run towards it for rescue, but it all turns dark just before I can reach it.

In the distance I hear growling...

My eyes flash open and I quickly sit up, completely out of breath.

What a horrible nightmare.

I guess even though I have a decent place to sleep, the nightmares are something I will never be able to get away from.

I look at the light entering the room via the clock.

I guess it's morning already.

This must be a good place to stay then.

I sit up and silently take out the old, worn map from it.

With a pen I mark the spot and write 'Clock/Attic' next to it, while using the book as support for the paper.

"Good morning." Quiller says, seeming a bit down.

"'Morning." I whisper, while looking at him questioningly.

"Don't worry, nothing happened while you were asleep. You did seem to be having a nightmare."

I shake my head: "What did you expect?" I nudge my head a little towards the window: "Be happy for the strength we gained from... a little shut-eye."

Unfortunately he doesn't seem to want to take the joke as a joke. Perhaps he didn't even notice.

"Life shouldn't be like this." He mumbles more to himself than to me.

I look at him with a sudden question burning in my mind: "Did you sleep on the floor? Or float?"

"Float? I'm not a ghost you know."

"Oh really?"

"I'm just a figment of your imagination."

"You keep that up, but really... it's getting harder to believe every time."

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?"

The old street musician

A short horror story I wrote.

TW: Short horror story, faeries I guess. they can be pretty creepy

The room is filled with the welcoming aroma of hot freshly made coffee. I'm sitting on one of the café tables, the one in the corner with the best view out of a big window.

The room is filled with the sounds of the coffee machines boiling, the soft sound of people whispering and my quick tapping on my laptop's keyboard.

I work as a translator and prefer to do my work in cozy places like this one, as do many others.

After a couple of hours a group of teenagers enter. They seem to change the atmosphere that was previously here, now instead of calm, working people, some of them get irritated.

The teens are quite loud and don't really seem to care about others, but I well, I honestly don't care. I'm more annoyed at the people hissing like cats and sighing like they are nearing their last day.

The group takes a table close to me and start talking in excited voices, mostly about school and friends.

Then suddenly the girl with pigtails points out of the window.

She is pointing across the street to an old street musician. I have seen him quite often here, I think he might always be sitting there. Whenever I give him some coins or just listen to him plays he always gives me this sad smile. It always makes me wonder how he got there. I have never even heard him uttering a single word, he is always silent, but plays wonderfully. It makes the city all the more livelier.

"Isn't that guy a bit creepy?" He just sits there all day and probably all night only making music."

A girl with a blue dress answers: "Yeah, I think so too. Why do you think that is?"

A boy with a green shirt cut's in: "Isn't it obvious, he is probably sitting there to ensure his alibi."

The boy in red laughs: "What? Do you mean to say that, this old man is secretly something like a serial killer?"

"That's so creepy..." Pigtails shares.

"Why else would he be there? Aren't most homeless criminals?" Green asks.

"What if he is waiting for his long lost family to finally return?" Blue says, seemingly unsure of her own answer.

"Nah, that's too good to be true, he has to have been at least a criminal at some point. Probably just a drunkard or a drug dealer." Red shares with confidence.

Then their conversation starts getting to a lot of other topics, I don't care about and try to continue my work.

Unfortunately, they only seem to get louder and I decide it's time to take a break and leave the café to wander off somewhere in the city.

Somewhere I buy a new agenda, the year is almost over anyway and I still don't have a new one.

After wandering around and browsing countless shops for hours, I notice it getting darker outside. It is of course almost winter, so I decide to walk to the bus stop to go home.

On my way back there I walk past the old musician, still playing beautifully on his old and beaten up accordion. His cold hands moving skillfully over the right keys.

I stop, search my pockets for some spare change. Yep, I still got some on me.

I turn around and gently put some coins in the basket. They make a small clinging sound as they all reach the bottom.

As I want to walk away, the man suddenly stops playing.

Then he speaks.

"Young lass, please listen. There is something important you need to hear."

I turn to face him: "Sure, I still have some time to kill, anyway."

His face seems slightly more panicked than normal.

"I know it's gonna sound like an old man's ramblings, but please. Spare me a bit of ye'r time."

I nod and take a step closer.

"I need ye to get away from here and never return. Ye've always been a very kind lass, when ye pass by you always pay attention and ye always seem to look out for others too."

He seems to be having a difficult time telling me. He's fidgeting and sweat appears on his forehead.

"Young lass, du'n listen to the faeries."

I'm kind of shocked, but I don't want to judge him either. I will let him talk, he clearly needs it of his mind. Not that I believe everything, but I won't let him know.

"I know I sound like a crazy old gee-"

"Don't worry, I'm be listening."

"Thanks"

There is that sad smile of his again.

"In a few days, maybe even tonight this place will cease to exist. Hundreds of years ago the people built this city on a faery village, ruined it, burned it to the ground. Then made this city with their ashes. Of course the faeries were angry at the people, war between the two raged for years till one day a musician came forward. He was able to play so bloody good that he could make the faeries sleep.

When he died his son took over and the son after and so on. I am the last musician, when my day comes, dear lass, this city will be gone. There won't be a musician anymore to keep the faeries asleep. And my day is approaching at great speed, since ye'r the kind soul that always sticks around, I want you to be save. So please lass, leave and never come back. Because when you do, you too will be taken."

I look at him, not sure what to say or do.

This short moment of silence feels like an eternity. "Alright, I won't return."

"Ye promise, lass?"

"I promise."

"Good, that makes this old man happy to hear."

I give a short nod. "Well, my bus could be here any second now, so I will be going. Goodbye sir. Take care."

"Farewell to ye too, lass. Thank you for listening and understanding!"

We wave, say our goodbyes and I leave for the bus stop, I'm there just in time and can hop on immediately.

After paying the driver I walk to sit in the back of the vehicle.

As the bus starts driving, I stare out of the window. Watching the illuminated city by the many yellow lighted lanterns.

Then when we pass the old musician, just before we take a right turn. I see it.

In a flash, I see what the man meant.

My blood freezes.

The old man is lying on the ground, arms and legs in horrifying, impossible positions. Broken most likely.

There is blood, a lot of it and... Something is standing next to him.

All I can say is, that's definitely not a human being.

The arms are too thin, almost branch-like.

It has glowing eyes.

Oh God...

It has seen me...

Dreamselling

My most recent short horror story.

Word count: 748

TW: Existential horror/dread

To sell your dream.

Dreamselling

Sold dreams

Someone decides their dreams impossible and sells them to someone without dreams

"I've had it!" I yell: "Mine is just simply unachievable!"

My colleague laughs: "Some dreams just are that way, many people here sell them, here there's no need for them anyway. Dreams just get in the way of getting finished."

We're sitting inside the grey lunch room of our workplace.

I turn to him and lean back: "Did you sell yours?"

A proud smile crosses his face: "Of course I did, daydreaming doesn't get you anywhere and I earned money with it too!"

I shake my head: "I don't think that it's the right thing to do."

"Why not?" He looks surprised.

A colourful memory comes back to me, one from very long ago, when I was still a child. I was playing in the green grass of my grandmother's garden. In both the bright yellow of the sun and the shade of an old tree from which the pink leaves almost seemed to glow.

That day so many years ago I told her my dream, the one I still hold to this day.

"That is such a wonderful dream, don't ever give up on it okay?" My grandmother told me after listening to it. I was so happy to hear those words, she wanted me to achieve that dream.

"So, why haven't you sold it yet?" My colleague asks again, taking me out of the blissful memory.

I shrug.

He continues: "If you do, you don't ever have to complain about it anymore. Life is so much lighter and happier without it."

"I know, I know... Live in the moment, right?"

He nods proudly: "I knew you would come to understand it."

The bell buzzes, letting us know that it's time to go back to work.

Back in my spot I think back about the conversation, should I do it? Should I not do it?

Honestly the dream hurts, I'm far from the place where I truly want to be.

As I get back to my apartment I find a bill lying on the floor by the door.

Damn, I guess I'll be losing a big chunk of my loan again.

Hesitantly I open the letter and look pained towards the many numbers.

Will I have enough to escape during the holiday? Or not?

I let out a long sigh and head to bed.

Closing my eyes I only find nightmares to haunt me, to taunt me.

This dream of mine is really that bothersome... isn't it?

After another day of work I feel more and more overwhelmed. Should I make the appointment? Would that bring happiness in my life?

It takes a while before I finally decide to go through with it...

"Please." The doctor gestures towards the bed and I lie down on it.

He notices that I'm a bit hesitant: "Don't worry, you will only come out a better person." He tells me in his kind voice.

I nod in response and the doctor pushes the bed with me on it into the machine.

There really is no going back now.

By the memory of my grandmother's words I start to quietly sob.

I'm sorry grandma, I'm really sorry, but I can't live with such an unachievable dream. Only to see others that have already achieved and others that already live that life that I want. It's better for me to leave it behind, to burn it, to let it be eaten by the flames. To leave it for another with a better chance.

The following years I work hard, get promoted multiple times and climb into the highest ranks. It's not because I want to go there, it's just because I don't care. Once you do something good enough you get faster at it too.

A colourful scene appears before me once again, it has been so long and yet in a way it also seems to have the same dull and grey look as the rest of the world.

Do I remember it correctly?

This is what I originally wanted, right?

Why do I feel so empty?

I've achieved that what I once dreamed of.

Oh, right... It's because I sold it... right?

I don't dream of this anymore, so it's simply useless.

It doesn't bring me happiness.

It doesn't bring me joy.

Because I left it behind.

I left it for another. Something better with quicker satisfaction.

Why did I even decide to sell it in the first place?

I feel strange.

Is that the feeling of regret?

This thick, slowly slithering snake, showing me the emptiness of my heart.

Was it really just a dream that I sold? Or was it more than that?

Was the money that I received from it really worth it?