The Confession

The library

Books are scary...

A story I wrote about someone stuck in a strange library.

TW: Psychological horror, gore

Only darkness.

No memories.

No thoughts.

No feelings.

No 'me'.

All of a sudden a bright light fills the place.

It is so bright that I can't see anything.

I?

Me?

As my eyes adjust to the light, I notice that I am in a library.

It is not a normal library, the bookcases look like trees, with their branches reaching far up.

Their leaves, all different, give the room a dreamlike feeling.

The roots which are growing all over the floor are connecting all the trees together.

The floor where I awoke is covered in a beautiful mosaic.

The light is coming from two big windows with stained glass, one above me and the other on the wall I'm facing.

It is not like how it is in a church, the stained glass is in much more colors and the image is something I can't really understand

It looks really vague, but maybe that was the intention.

Carefully I stand up and walk towards the nearest bookcase.

There are many, many books.

None of them seem to be sorted in any way, the genres couldn't be any more different and none of them are in alphabetical order. Not the titles or the writers.

It's a bit of a mess honestly, some of the books aren't even placed properly on the shelves.

As I walk around the room, I notice that there are no doors present.

How did I even get here?

I have no bruises or wounds and I don't remember being kidnapped, so that probably isn't it.

But neither do I remember coming here out of free-will...

I should investigate more.

As I look around I notice one other strange thing, it's one of the bookcases.

Just like the others it looks like a tree, but it looks like it has been dead for a long time. There are no leaves on the finger-like branches and it almost looks like it has been burned.

Still it is connected to all the others by the roots.

When I take a step closer, I can unexpectedly feel something...

Something bad.

An emotion?

A memory?

I don't know, but for now I shall leave it be.

I walk to another bookcase, this one has many children's books.

From bedtime stories, to those of wild adventures.

From fairytales to informative books.

And then there are the books without an author.

Carefully I take one out.

It is heavy and rather dusty, so I clean it off and open it with care.

It is someone's childhood.

Mine maybe, but it could also be someone else's.

I just don't know.

The pages are filled, everything is written to the furthest detail.

Every day, what happened, what they ate, people they met.

As careful as I took it out, I place it back in the bookcase.

I take out another, but similar book, again it is about the same child. Most of the other characters in it seemed to be the same as in the last book.

I can see now, why there are this many books, they must all be about this person's life.

So all these books are sorted! Not by genre or writer, but by date!

Quite proud of myself for figuring that out all by myself I continue on to another bookcase.

In it are a lot of schoolbooks and a couple of story books, these don't look as much for children as the previous. Most of them are too difficult or scary.

And again I open a random book from the ones without an author.

It is about a teenager, I think this might have been the child from the other bookcase before.

The same as before, everything is written to the finest detail.

The places they went to and the lessons they learned.

The bookcase after is about an adult, whom most likely has been the child and the teenager at some point.

This is by far the one with the most books, they must have enjoyed reading very much.

Same as before, the authorless book I take of a shelf is written into the smallest details.

About where they traveled to where they bought a house.

About losses and new lives.

I truly wonder who could have written these and all I am left with is the ability to wonder about who all these people are or were.

Although all of this is quite nice to read, my curiosity grows towards the 'dead' bookcase.

It has started making noises.

Scratching.

And something like speech.

I can't understand it though, it is all too muffled.

Quietly I walk towards the tree, step by step I get closer.

When I am close enough, I can see that none of these books have an author.

As I stand close enough, the sounds suddenly come to a halt and I place my hand on one of the books to take it out.

Slowly and with as much care as the others I take it from the dead tree.

This book is different from the rest, it is way heavier than it looks and the cover has been all scratched up. I am not sure if it was done with a knife or fingernails.

Or maybe it could have been teeth?

Vigilant of anything I can think of, I open the book.

As soon as I do, the scratching starts again and the muffled noises sound more like screams.

In this book are bad memories.

Fear.

Discomfort.

Sadness

Jealousy.

Pain.

Hate.

The handwriting in this book is terrible, more like someone scratched it in.

As I try to read what the words say, the tree starts to shake.

Quickly I take a few steps back.

Veins start to appear in the tree, filled with a strange growing color.

The roots of the other connected trees start to die, causing them to all drop their leaves.

Before they hit the ground they turn red and then turn into blood as they fall, splashing and making the mosaic disappear underneath the dark liquid.

Suddenly the first bookcase catches fire, burning all books with it in an instant.

Then burns the second and after that the third.

Before I can do anything, all the bookcases have been burned to ashes.

The blood washes over them, making even the last bits disappear.

All the books are gone and now I am only left with the dead tree.

The roots grow rapidly and start to cover the windows, until I am back in complete darkness again.

Only this time with all the awful memories.

Book of the apocalypse - chapter 2

Chapter 2 - A place to rest

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

Word count: 801

Previous chapter:

"C'ome on! I even checked it for you, it should be safe enough."

"How can I... be sure of what... lies beyond if you... are... imaginary?"

Defeated, he sighs.

We have been arguing for a while now and the rain outside hasn't stopped at all.

"I'm going to...one of the stores... usually they have a room... in the back that can be... locked." Old words slowly enter my mind. I guess I didn't forget everything.

"But the clock tower has a better view, you can be certain of your surroundings and make better plans for when the rain stops!"

"Quiller... I am not going in there-!"

Quickly I place my hand in front of my mouth and stop talking.

I must have yelled too loud, because I hear something approaching us.

Something dragging.

Another walking faster.

Shit!

Taking out just one is already quite the feat, two might be impossible, especially in such a confined space.

I've lived like this for years, but only thanks to knowing when to run and when to fight.

After all... they aren't a lot like zombies from old moving pictures.

And it certainly wasn't a virus that caught them.

Not a virus any human or animal could have gotten.

Quickly and quietly I hide behind a corner.

I see the two- no... four!

There's four of them!

Goddammit!

They're still scanning their surroundings.

I just hope they don't-

The one that seems to be the leader looks straight at me, making a strange noise.

Quiller is standing by the door to the tower: "I think this really is our safest bet."

"You... you asshole, you knew didn't you?! You planned for this to happen!"

I don't look at his face, I don't want to look at it.

Wow, betrayed even by an imaginary fiend.

I hold my spear in a way to protect myself as one of them lunges at me.

Before I know it I'm surrounded.

Their half decaying flesh, half robotic faces look hungry at me.

"You assholes fight like... like bitches!" I yell at them, knowing full well the futility of it. The same strange words I recognize as curses leave my mouth one after another.

How strange... but it feels right.

Trying to give myself an escape route I slice off an arm from one of the creatures.

With a sloshy thud it falls onto the floor and rolls away.

Almost immediately a new arm starts to grow, one not made of flesh... but of some kind of metal.

A dark liquid spills onto the floor, smelling like a combination of something rotting and machine oil.

As I try to slice the new one off, I'm only able to dent it a little bit.

I feel my hope sink.

"I guess I have no choice but to use 'that'..."

I take a small machine from one of the pockets in my belt.

It's still a work in progress, but this is better than nothing.

Do I really have to use my piece of hard-work here?

Well... I guess it beats dying.

In a swift movement I press a button and make it stick to one of my attackers' heads.

I'm sorry...

The creature starts to scream.

A scream sounding more and more like that of a human it once was.

I'm sorry...

The others get alerted by the sound and start attacking their once fellow creature.

I hate to do this, but a better decoy doesn't exist.

Even if the creature had become fully human again, it would have died in an instant.

I haven't found anything against that yet.

Quickly and quietly I rush to Quiller.

I give him a glare, saying: 'Fine... I will do it your way asshole!' and get myself through the small door in the ceiling.

He seems to be slightly frightened by my cursing.

It's a good thing I've gotten used to doing parkour.

Jumping from one wall to the other and climbing up is nothing.

I breathe a sigh of relief as I notice that it doesn't end in a small space to crawl through.

I might have gone right back out if that was the case.

It's open.

I close the small door behind me, I really don't want those creatures getting up here and then I turn my flashlight on to look around.

The room is mostly empty, except for the layer of dust and an old couch.

The clock is the window, but it has gotten so dirty thanks to the dust, seeing through it is nearly impossible.

I scan through the room with the light in my hand, I really hope there is nothing up here.

There is a dusty, old couch in the middle and the only source of light is coming from the dirty clock, that's also somewhat of a window.

Luckily there is no one here.

"Hey, are you okay?" Quiller asks, looking rather worried: "You didn't get bit, right?"

I shake my head, I better not answer him right now.

Those creatures one floor below us, worry me.

I carefully walk over to the couch.

Maybe now is the best time to start reading that book.

I take the old object out of my bag and open it.

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...

List 5 things that make you happy, then put this in the askbox for the last 10 people who liked or reblogged something from you! Get to know your mutuals and followers :3

Cats

Metal music

Hiking in nature

Horror Stories/movies/games

Doing something creative

Recently I had a pretty strange dream.

In it I finished a Resident evil 7/8- like game and unlocked a special mode in which the game suddenly turned in this weird interactive reality tv-show about the final boss and the protagonist swapping homes for a week or so.

The protagonist (who spend the week in that huge horror mansion) was all like "Great place, nice staff, though it's unfortunate that the toilets are always clogged."

And the end boss started talking about how he had always wanted to live in a tiny house (the protagonist had a normal house, pretty big for just one person) and had always been wanting to try and be self-sufficient.

All this in a horror game...

When I woke up I thought it was unfortunate that there isn't any game I know of that does this. I think it would be pretty funny.

Do you remember?

I hope you all had a great christmas!!

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

Word count: 362

TW: horror

Do you remember?

The falling snow?

The warmth of the fire?

The kind smile on your mother's face?

That day we met... do you remember?

That day, many, many years ago.

When you came by and we became fast friends.

You were so kind.

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

I have always really appreciated that from you...

Your kindness.

Your openness to whomever, whatever...

Remember when we first played outside together?

The crunching of freshly fallen snow underneath our feet.

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

That day we completely lost track of time.

That day was truly amazing.

Remember that day when there was a snowstorm outside?

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

We played with your toys and told each other stories.

I still remember all of them.

Do you?

Do you remember our first sleepover?

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

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

So warm, so gentle.

But now... you've changed.

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

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

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

Has it really been that long?

Is there something I should remember?

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

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

I guess it's time.

Nothing else to be done other than this.

If I leave you like this...

You're going to be wasting away.

You're going to rot.

You're going bad.

You'll be spoiled before long.

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

I'm different from you.

I scare you.

I scared your family.

Well I might be truly a monster to your kind.

Hiding in the shadows.

Eating creatures that are still alive.

Drinking their blood.

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

Or perhaps they do in some other way?

Do you remember?

Because I don't.

My head is too busy thinking.

Thinking about how I will stop playing with my food.

Yes, you guessed right.

You are.

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

The 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. 

Book cover I made

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

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

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.

Plastic mannequin city

A short horror story I wrote a while ago:)

Word count: 849

TW: Blood, insanity, body horror

As artificial light enters the shop, I start to get ready for the people who will be visiting soon.

I hang the new clothes on the plastic hangers on which they're supposed to be and clean in and around the store. Most of the clothes here are made of polyester, nylon or acrylic.

"We will open soon." I hear my colleague whisper in my ear.

I nod in response and help out with putting out the plastic signs.

As the store slowly starts to get flooded with customers I take my place behind the counter and finish some more chores before someone comes to me to buy something.

After a good few minutes some come to pay for the clothes they deem fit to their bodies.

"Do you want to pay with card?" I ask.

"Do you need a bag with it?" I ask after.

"Do you want the receipt?"

Some of them don't like the questions and get annoyed, asking me not to ask them. Unfortunately my memory isn't good enough to remember who asked who. After a long time, their grey faces have become nothing but a blur in my dreams.

They all look the same after all.

The faces of mannequins are difficult to remember after all...

Every time I scan something the cash register makes an annoying bleep, one that keeps getting more and more annoyed the longer the day continues on, making me thankful for the mask I wear.

A client thinks I'm doing my job wrong and swears at me. I've been working here for a while now, so compliments are hard to come by.

I have a few colleagues who do get many, they look a lot like the customers, other colleagues usually leave soon after starting.

I wonder how long I can hold out...

A couple of hours later I swap places and start working more throughout the store, it's a big one, but I will manage.

I have to...

Customers with their plastic grey faces come to me for questions now.

With their long thin bodies they ask me how much something is, if we have something in another size or even if something makes them look fat.

That last one always surprises me, their plastic bodies all look the same.

They're taller than me.

They're tinner than me.

They're much more beautiful than me.

Is this their way of calling me out?

Do they like asking me these questions in order to mess with me?

I've had enough of that by my colleagues already.

I get sent to the storage room.

Did I do something wrong?

Did I make a mistake I didn't know of?

Or is there something that really needs to be done there?

Please just let it be that!

I turn on the light, it's one for a rather big storage. Unlike everything outside, this light is powered by gas and it's old, very old.

The shadows this light creates always scare me a bit.

The shadows look almost like the mannequins outside.

They look down on me condescendingly.

They judge me.

Their glares are so cold they send me shivering.

I start unpacking boxes, one after one, I do it as perfectly as possible.

I don't want to lose this job.

Suddenly the knife I'm holding for the boxes glides into my hand.

I wince out of pain and am just able to stop myself from cursing.

Thick, dark red drips onto the ground, staining the white plastic floor with the fluid.

A dark thought enters my mind: Perhaps in order to overcome my fear, I should become it.

I look down on my quivering hands.

Could I replace them to become like them?

Could I replace my skin and have a plastic layer instead?

To have no eyes, no nose and no mouth.

To be perfect, just like them.

Would it hurt or bite as the hot plastic would creep up my fleshy arms and legs.

Would I feel pain at all after the procedure and be perfect?

Would I be able to join them after it and be able to get just as many compliments and love?

But then again in all truth, I don't like their perfection.

Their perfection is one of arrogance.

In fact, I think I might even hate it.

I've tried so hard to become like them for such a long time.

I wear a mask to have my face look like them, I skip my lunches in order to become thinner like them.

But all of it...

All of it is for nothing.

It doesn't matter how hard I work, no one will ever accept me.

No one will ever care.

I shouldn't become like them to overcome my fear, I should become something far worse.

Something only I can be, something they can never be.

The floor beneath my feet seems cracked all of a sudden, cracked on the place on which I am standing.

The Gaslamp flickers approvingly, like it tells me to do what I want to do.

I don't remember the last time someone or something said something nice to me or even approved of an idea of mine.

But this lamp, the only real one in this entire building does.

I drop the mask and it shatters into a thousand pieces.

I love the noise it makes as it hits the ground.

Will they make that noise too?

I look down to the object in my hand.

I wonder what color they would bleed.