Trainride At Night

If I could travel back in time

This is a short horror story I wrote.

TW: Gore, psychological horror

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

Would you?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I know you liked those things back then.

I wish we still had that time.

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

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

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

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

We did have junior and high school together.

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

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

But it's too late now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Like a good friend.

But it's just stupid.

I can't think of anything good about you.

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

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

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

So why?

Oh well, it doesn't matter.

It's just too late.

For you and for me.

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

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

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

I don't feel anymore.

I don't see anymore.

My hands are like ice.

Just like them.

Just like you soon.

You were stressed this time.

I could feel it.

You weren't careful enough

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

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

This never had to have happened.

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

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

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

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

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

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.

Writing for the lost

A short horror story I wrote a while ago.

Word count: 2096

I've always wanted to be a writer.

I've always so desperately tried, to then always fail.

I've written stories about dragons, stories about strange civilizations, and yet it seems to be that all my hard work has been for naught.

I grasp to every chance to write something, be it a competition or just for others.

And I always end up getting hurt, again and again and again and again and again.

Perhaps they've been right all along, I just don't have any talent.

That my stories are mere imitations of the great ones.

Well, they might be, for all I know they might all be damned.

Perhaps it would be better to stop, to call it quits, but I can't.

I can't.

I just can't.

As the thing I've been working towards my entire life, I can't let it go now or I will really have lost.

I work jobs I don't like in order for me to be able to purchase the things to write and to give myself time to read.

But a masterpiece is something I will never be able to write.

I remember once entering a competition just to be told that my writing lacks emotion and originality. Well I've been told worse before.

But still, I try and try again.

Probably until I can't anymore.

Until even breathing is something too difficult.

Recently I moved to a new house, it's old.

It's also difficult to keep clean, but the rent is dirt cheap.

I might be able to stay here for longer than half a year, so I'm pretty happy with it.

Perhaps it's time to hire a maid, though I would need to work even harder to afford one... Yeah, I should just do it myself.

Even though this house is in a bad shape, it feels almost as if it has a soul.

Like the house is a whole character in itself.

In a way it makes me feel less lonely.

The paint is slowly peeling from the walls and not all the lights work, but in a way it speaks to me.

Like something I've long lost or have yet to gain.

In all truth, there is something amiss with this house, something strange, but I dare not call it wrong.

The first night I sat by my mattress on the floor and took out one of my old notebooks.

"Alright, I think I'm going to write now." I said to the house, I said to myself.

Speaking aloud is something I do often when I'm alone, so I did not expect a response.

"What will you be writing?" a voice echoed through the house, entering my bedroom.

I was quiet for a moment, listening to the suddenly eerie atmosphere that had entered the room.

After a long while I finally mustered the courage to answered: "A story"

"What is this story about?" The house asked.

"I-I don't know yet..." I whispered.

I could feel my hand holding the pen tremble, but I didn't dare to run away, I didn't even dare to look behind me.

"How about you write a story about me?" The voice asked slowly.

"I-I can do that, please t-tell me." I hated the fact that I couldn't stop my voice from shaking.

"Hmmm..." The voice seemed deep in thought: "How about we write it together?"

I could feel a cold hand touch my shoulder, to then enter my body.

It was truly a strange sensation, nothing I had ever felt before.

But I guess I can say, I got possessed.

When I came to, I had written almost an entire book, my hands covered in blisters were sore as can be and I felt like I had had the strangest dream.

I dreamed that I was someone else.

I dreamed of the feelings they felt.

I dreamed of the pain they had to have endured.

As I looked at the pages written in a handwriting that wasn't mine, I could remember the dream more vividly.

I looked up to find an almost transparent man before me.

"Not enough." He mumbled: "Not enough."

"What do you mean?" I asked carefully.

"This is simply not enough..."

I let him think in silence for him, afraid of what would happen if I were to anger the spirit before me.

"It's not the whole story yet." He finally answered: "It has yet to be finished."

As I tried to get up, holding up my arms for him, wanting to tell him that he can try again, dark spots start appearing in my vision and before I know it I fall over.

"That must be the problem." I heard him say: "You are too weak."

The words sound harsh, but I also know that they spoke the truth.

I was weak... No I still am.

I can't do anything.

I have no talent for anything.

I am useless.

Somehow the ghost decided to take pity on me and sat next to me.

"You gotta eat something, my friend." He said in a kind voice.

I could feel an ice cold hand on my shoulder, so cold that it felt like it could freeze my body and turn it into solid ice.

Slowly I got up, my 'friend' following closely behind me, making sure I wouldn't fall over.

He helped me sit down at the table, where I reached for some of the fruit in the basket.

I took a bite and only then noticed that it had long spoiled, still I continued until I had finished it completely.

"What is it that made you so obsessive over writing a story?" My friend asked.

"Good writers live forever within their works, good writers never leave this earth."

"What caused you to think like that?"

"People disappear often, swiftly and without much noise. I don't want to go out like that."

My friend hesitated and then answered: "I see." I think he said it because he didn't want to invade my privacy.

"So, why do you want to have your story written?"

He shrugged: "I guess it's almost the same reason as for you to write. I don't want my story to disappear. I came to my end in a way I don't wish upon my most feared enemies."

"Why not find someone stronger and more talented than me?" I asked out of curiosity.

"You're the first."

Just what does he mean with that?

"The first that was able to allow me to write to speak out my anguish."

As I have regained some of my energy I carefully stand up, this time not falling over nor seeing dark spots cloud my vision.

"Alright, let's work together." I offered and my friend nodded in agreement.

Days went by in which I took better care of myself and had a moment in which my friend could take up my pen.

Day after day, more empty pages got filled with a story, the story of him.

As the final day grew closer, I could feel his frustration slowly ebb away.

Then it came.

It arrived much too early for my taste to be completely honest.

After all, I made a friend, a good one at that, someone that only I could hear and see, someone that told me different from my dark lingering thoughts.

"May I request something?" He asked kindly like always.

"But of course, anything that may be of help to you."

His face turned serious.

"I would like it if you were to publish this, under your own name."

Shocked, I looked at him: "But this is your story, yours and yours alone, you can't leave it to me! If you want it published so badly, I can bring it to a publisher and say that you, my friend, are the writer of this masterpiece."

He looked down.

"But you wrote it." He silently protested.

I immediately shook my head: "No, you did, you did it, you wrote the story of your life."

Then he slammed his fist on the table.

"Dammit! I want you to take it, you have been nothing but kind to me. I have worn you out to have my last wish be granted through you. Most people would run away if they ever were to even lay eyes upon me. You are the only one to understand me, so please... just listen to me."

Shocked by his sudden burst of anger and frustration, he reminds me that his last day is coming closer.

This time I look down: "Fine." I mumbled: "I will publish it under my name, but I will tell everyone that I wrote it with the help of a friend."

A sad smile crossed his face: "You better do."

And thus I went to the publisher the very next day.

It was one of those that had refused me before a couple of times, but this was the closest one to my house.

As I knocked on the door, I was greeted by the man that owned the company.

"What the hell are you doing here so early in the morning?!" His voice was stern, perhaps angry even.

"I've come to show you something."

"Again?! You know I ain't reading anymore of that garbage that is written by you!"

"I wrote it with a friend."

"Oh, yeah, who ist?"

"He... he prefers to remain anonymous."

"Anonymous? Bah, the only thing I smell here is bullshit!"

"It's because it's his personal story."

A mailman walks by giving the owner a couple of letters.

At first I wasn't sure, but I noticed that one of them had something like 'EVICTION' written on it.

He then confirmed it to me.

"Look pal, there is no story big enough to save this company of mine. Rent is due and there are mouths to feed."

"Please..." I begged him: "Please just read, even if it's only the first page. No first half of the page is good enough."

He sighed.

"Fine then, but this is your last chance. If it's bad again, I will never allow you to enter this place anymore."

Thanking him, he let me inside.

Carefully I handed him my manuscript as he sat down on a chair.

"Half a page you said?"

"Yes." I nodded.

To my delight, as the owner started reading the story, he almost seemed to get absorbed in it.

He didn't read half a page at all like I had requested, page after page he read.

At some point I could see tears well up in his eyes, at another I could see the frustration in him like that of the protagonist of the story.

And then he closed the last page.

It had already gotten dark outside and he had read every word, not skipping anything.

With a satisfied sigh, he wiped his head and then looked at me.

"Well that certainly is how you do it, son."

I bowed and thanked him.

"I-it's truly almost something close to a miracle."

"Could you publish this for me?"

The man nodded: "Yes, yes. Of course."

It didn't take long before I could find my book in the local bookstores.

But I didn't take the time to celebrate this victory.

My best friend was gone after all, his place felt empty.

I couldn't care less about my income or the fact that I could finally live somewhere else that was cleaner or in better shape.

I visited his grave often, even talking to him, knowing full well he wasn't there to listen anymore.

Then one day another one came.

A spirit.

A lost soul.

Someone in need of my help.

Like before I wrote them a book, I wrote their story.

And in time they left me again too.

I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote and wrote.

Somehow in time I had become somewhat of a best-seller, people would even recognize me in the streets and ask me for an autograph. And I would always tell them that I never wrote a story alone.

I always told them that I shouldn't get all the praise.

Eventually I started noticing myself growing weak again.

Weaker than I had ever felt before.

Though some spirits would try to take care of me, I got sicker and sicker.

It wasn't something a doctor could cure.

It's my curse after all.

My curse is sucking away at my life force.

My unnatural talent is killing me!

Scared, I look up, dropping the pen from my trembling hands, spilling small drops of ink over the floor, my hands and on some of the pages.

"Are you okay?" The man, or rather ghost, before me looks worried.

"I...we..."

He looks down with eyes filled with regret: "Yes, you and I are the same. We both have the same curse, if you're not careful enough, death will come to get you earlier as well."

The tree

The most recent short horror story I wrote:)

Word count: 722

TW: Psychological horror

Rain mixed salt with fresh water.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She's barefoot and looks dirty.

Her eyes are red from crying.

I estimate her age to be around 14.

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

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

She nods, still trembling.

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

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

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

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

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

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

I return home and close the door behind me.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The flames in her eyes

The most recent short story I wrote.

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

Word count: 2298

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

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

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

Darker than the most cloudy of nights.

Darker than my room with the curtains closed at night.

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

Unexpectedly I drop onto an unfamiliar floor.

So… I was standing when I awoke?

Not lying down?

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

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

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

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

Abduction?

I don’t remember a thing.

A nightmare?

It’s too real for that.

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

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

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

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

Almost embarrassingly childlike I stumble around in the dark.

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

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

Still following this one might bring me to the exit.

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

Taking one after another I carefully make my way forward.

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

Right, the silence.

This place seems to almost be completely without sound.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I don’t think I will get out of here.

And perhaps that might be for the best.

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

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

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

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

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

I sit.

I wait.

I pluck my clothes, until it tires me.

I wait.

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

My thoughts, only turning darker and darker.

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

I wait.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I shrug: “No idea.”

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

And then, I finally see something.

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

Two blue dancing little flames.

Two little flames that seem to have not lost hope.

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

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

“What do you mean?” She asks surprised.

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

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

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

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

“Almost?”

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

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

“Really?” I ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I mumble a thanks and we start walking.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I take a step back and let her handle it.

She takes out brick after brick.

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

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

Probably the same as the one before.

“Is this just like the rest?” I ask.

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

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

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

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

I see two large flames welling up in the distance.

“Are you sure?” The girl asks.

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

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

Too late.

The flames look our way.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Her voice turns to me and so do her flames.

“Can you two really not see anything?”

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

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

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

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

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

I look at her flames and nod.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then I see something inside of it.

The flames.

Their flames.

So… I don’t have them?

Could it be that… I’m soulless?

“So? What do you see?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I see.” I answer coolly.

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

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

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

The woman remains quiet.

So that must be the case.

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

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

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

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

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

Somehow friendly and familiar.

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

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

I feel like the light is calling me.

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

But I ignore her as well.

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

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

“Ma’am, please get back here!”

“You’ll hurt yourself if you continue!”

I feel something sharp digging itself into my right leg.

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

It hurts.

It hurts so fucking much!

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

Don’t think about it.

Don’t think about it!!!

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

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

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

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

I don’t pay it any attention and continue.

The light I see behind that door.

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

I reach out my arm for the light.

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

It’s an old door handle.

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

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

The machine that brought the dead back to life

The continueation and final part of a story I wrote.

Word count: 2151

TW: Death and cursing

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

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

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

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

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

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

It's the door.

The door is opening.

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

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

All of the people are working.

Drew quickly looks back at the machine he came from.

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

He had been revived.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Skills? Do the mindless even possess those?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He takes a bite and swallows.

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

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

"Not so long either."

"Then do you know how you died?"

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

"What, why?"

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

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

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

"Don't we all?"

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

"You got someone, buddy?"

"My wife, she works here."

"On the bottom I presume?"

"Yeah..."

"Well that explains it then."

"What do you mean?"

"Why were you picked?"

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

"Yeah..."

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

"Buddy, let go."

"I want to know!"

"Buddy, you're hurting me."

"Just answer me, please!"

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

"Then why are you here?"

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

Drew grips the strangers shoulder even harder.

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

Drew lets the man go.

"Thank you." He says annoyed.

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

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

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

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

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

"We have to carefully follow the red lights."

Both drop their work and start their plan to escape.

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

Thus the two start running.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe he can get help at the workshop?

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

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

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

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

He knocks.

No answer.

He knocks again, this time louder.

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

He takes his arm and almost drags him inside.

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

Drew starts to explain everything that he knows.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Clara, have you seen her?"

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

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

"Thanks." He mumbles and continues down further.

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

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

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

But something else is wrong with the room.

Something very wrong.

Perhaps it looks too clean?

Drew starts to look around, looking for Clara.

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

A short glitch appears, like a flash all disappears.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This is not the bottom at all.

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

Some new, some almost entirely bones.

It's a pile.

So many people.

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

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

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

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

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

.

.

.

Then he finally finds her.

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

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

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

"Son, what took you so long?"

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

"What do you mean?"

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

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

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

The circus

I short horror story I wrote:)

Word count: 1841

TW:

Once every year there is a circus in the town I live in, for the rest of the year nothing special really happens. But that is not the only reason why so many are anxious about its arrival.

I don't know everything about it, but even so it is a bit of a strange circus. It is a mandatory one and there is another strange rule: Those that have not seen it are not allowed to watch.

So basically a lot of people sit together with their eyes closed, listing to sounds that will make you want to open your eyes. This makes it very challenging for most, especially when you are not allowed to cover your eyes in any way either.

Luckily, I am one of those that have not found it difficult, in all the years I have lived here I have not once broken any of its strange rules.

"Lynn, I am so terribly worried about him." Says Jenny as she tries to hide her trembling hands.

"Jenny, really, don't worry. His dad will be with him, right? And Sammy is a pretty smart kid."

She shakes her head: "Even so, he is still just four years old and not all kids are like you when you were younger... and how you still are." Was it just me or did I sense a small hint of disappointment in me? Maybe annoyance?

For most people it is difficult to go without looking and Jenny was rather young when she saw it for the first time.

It happened during the last year of middle school. Jenny and a group of her friends had freely decided to keep their eyes open during the show. She used to be quite the daredevil, throughout the village she was also known as 'Jenny the brave'. Now it is just a silly nickname, since she lost all that bravery that day.

Before that day, we weren't friends yet, we were just classmates.

On that day she went with five others, the bravest of middle school, but eventually also the most stupid. For as far as I know has no one ever tried that before.

I still remember the day after, like it was yesterday, all of them were absent. The teacher told us what happened and that they had gotten sick with nightmares, that's how bad it was.

"You probably have to be the oldest one here that still hasn't seen it!" Jenny says taking me back to the here and now.

I laugh: "Nah, no way. I bet there are still some of the elderly that haven't seen it."

"27, you're getting pretty close."

"Jen, we are the same age!" I laugh loudly.

Then Jenny lets out a shaking sigh.

"Jenny, really it will all be alright. Let's go do something fun together soon, oh maybe we could go apple picking again. It is almost time for those, Right?

"Okay, okay, you're right, but apple picking season will start next month. But I would love to have a game night again at your place. You have collected a lot and John has been wanting to play those again for a while."

"Alright, game night it is!"

Proud of myself for being able to help my friend. I say my goodbyes and leave her café.

In the distance I can already hear the circus music, as I squint my eyes, I can see the people that have worked there the previous years.

They are all very old and very thin, I wonder if they ever get something to eat.

Unlike the crowds for a normal circus, most people here are anxious. Parents telling their kids to behave and some of them even scaring them, all just to make sure that they won't look.

"Sam! Sammy!" I suddenly hear someone call out from the crowd.

I recognize him immediately, it is Jenny's husband and Sammy's father, John."

"Hey John, is everything alright?"

He shakes his head wildly: "No, no, not in the least! I lost Sam, if you hadn't already noticed?!" He answers panicked and angry that I even dared to ask such a stupid question.

"I will help you look." I offer.

John is a bit of an ass, but I do really care about Sammy's safety. I don't want the poor little kid to be traumatized or get sick of nightmares.

"Caitlynn, you have to tell me when you find him, immediately!" He demands.

I nod and walk the other way, wondering about how Jenny and John ever got married.

The circus tent is already very old, ancient even, as some have said. But still as sturdy as ever. Just beneath one of the peaks there is this creepy grey face, it always moves. Looking at people that enter or even just pass by. I have no idea what it is made of, but most likely some type of leather. Some old mechanism must be the thing that makes its eyes move, it looks rather creepy. Especially if it is the first time seeing it, by now I've gotten used to it.

At the circus you can buy food, but I've never seen anyone there. This entire event feels more like a funeral than something that is supposed to be fun.

Another strange thing about this entire event, is that it always seems to have just enough places to sit as the amount of people that live in this village. Which means that if there is an empty place, someone isn't here.

I don't know anyone who hasn't come each and every year though.

I decide that the best way to find Sammy is to maybe ask some of the employees of the circus and maybe for them to let everyone know about his disappearance.

As one of the employees walks past me, I quickly tap her on her shoulder to get her attention.

The older lady turns to me looking at me with her dark eyes and a face that is so thin, it almost looks like a skull.

I tell her what is going on and her face seems to show something like fear.

"Oh no, we need to do something before it begins!"

"Isn't there a way to delay the show for a bit?" I ask carefully, I know that we still have some time, but it would be a good second option if we can't find him before it runs out.

"No, no, I'm so sorry. It has to start at 12 o'clock straight, bad things will happen if we don't." She seems to be more panicked than me, so I put a hand on her shoulder to calm her down. "It will probably be fine, Sammy is a smart kid. So maybe if you could tell others to help the search, we can cover more ground quickly."

"Yes, Yes, I will ask all of my colleagues if they have seen him, what does he look like?"

"He is 4, has blond hair and wears his favorite dino shirt today. It's blue with green."

She nods and runs off faster than I expected of someone as old and thin as her. I couldn't even thank her.

I can see the lady talk to each of her colleagues with quick hand gestures, then one of them runs inside to come out with a megaphone.

As I want to continue John walks up to me: "Ah hey John, did you already find-"

"WHY THE HELL DID YOU ASKED THOSE FREAKS FOR HELP?!" He shouts at me: "You SAID that YOU were going to help and NOT to make Everyone think that I am a BAD FATHER! ASK BEFORE YOU PULL STUPID SHIT LIKE THIS!!!"

What a jerk...

Calmly I answer him: "Well, we will find him a lot quicker now.", But this only seems to anger him more.

"HOW the HELL can you be this CALM?! YOU REALLY DON'T CARE!"

I look at his red angry face, I am not afraid of his tantrums.

"We will find him and nothing bad is going to happen, bad things have never happened before anyway."

His face goes quickly from red to pale: "You really believe that... There is something seriously wrong with you..."

Then out of the corner of my eye, I see a little blond kid enter the tent.

"Well John, shout all you want, but I will continue to look." I run to the tent were I thought that I possibly saw Sammy.

As I enter the tent, I am greeted by a seemingly endless hallway.

"Sammy?" I call out.

No answer.

I take my phone out of my pocket and turn on the flashlight.

Now the hallway is filled with the bright white light.

I can see doors on my left and right, all of them look very old.

The bit of paint still remaining on the doors is peeling off.

The smell of damp and dust almost makes it unbreathable.

Quietly I walk, listening for any sound.

Then somewhere in the middle of the hallway I can hear whispering from one of the rooms.

I open the door and shine my flashlight inside.

Finally!

I see Sammy standing, next to what seems like a skeleton with too many arms and heads.

"Hey, Sammy! I was looking all over for you."

No answer.

"Sammy, c'mon, we gotta go."

Again silence, he hasn't even turned his face to me.

I sigh and step into the room, as I walk towards Sammy, I suddenly hear something moving.

Quickly I turn around to see what it is, has the skeleton moved?

Nah, that's impossible.

"Sam, your dad is worried about you."

But again Sammy seems to be ignoring me.

I place my hand on his shoulder: "SAM! Are you listening?"

And then he finally moves, shocked he looks at my face. So he hadn't noticed me before?

"Sam, we have to leave!"

The little kid before me starts tearing up quietly and wraps his tiny hands around my knees.

"Were you scared, Sammy?"

He nods while I gently pick him up.

"Let's go to your dad. Oh and promise me to keep your eyes shut. I will tell you when you can open them again, okay?"

"Yes, auntie." He says with fear and tears in his soft voice.

As I quickly leave to go to the place we have to be, I can hear whispering and something moving around following us.

"And then we found him again, there is really nothing to worry about."

"Why don't you understand?!" Jenny suddenly screams after me when I finished my story, her eyes red from tears and anger.

Tired of people shouting at me, I answer rather insensitively: "Why are you all so worried, nothing bad has ever happened around here! That circus is just a silly little thing to scare kids! As long as we just follow the rules, we are safe."

"Silly little thing?! You don't understand because you haven't seen it! You are just blind!"

I still don't understand the problem.

"Don't you remember the last year of middle school, when a whole family went missing!"

"I have never heard of anyone going missing."

"The group I was with existed out of a group of 6."

"6? Oliver, Amy, John, Mary and you. Who am I missing?

"Jerry, remember..."

Her voice sounds hesitant.

"I'm sorry, who?"

Shocked about my answer, Jenny stares at me with fear filled eyes.

"Y-you two have always been best friends... how?"

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Cats

Metal music

Hiking in nature

Horror Stories/movies/games

Doing something creative

Sleep paralysis

My most recent short horror story:)

Word count: 953

After a long day of work I finally got home.

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

I reach for the light and turn it on.

My eyes scan the room that has appeared before me.

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

Quickly I glance behind me in the hallway.

No one is there.

Good.

I enter my home and close the door behind me.

One lock.

And the second lock.

You can never be too sure.

You can never be too safe.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I need the noise in order to feel safe.

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

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

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

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

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

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

It feels terrible.

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

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

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

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

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

Then it's time to turn off the lights.

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

Suddenly I hear something moving in my room.

I open my eyes.

It's really dark.

At first I don't see anything.

But then I do.

Something is inside my room.

I can feel my heart starting to beat faster.

Unmoving it stands in the corner of my room.

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

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

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

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

The dark spots disappear, just as the figure.

Did it really go away? I wonder.

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

Suddenly I notice something in the corner of my eye.

A face.

Someone is standing next to me.

Their face right next to mine.

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

The face... has something unnatural to it.

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

The smaller one seems to be staring into my soul.

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

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

Their skin is incredibly grey, like ash.

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

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

Immediately I know what the object is.

A knife.

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

"With this mark, you are the next."

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

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

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

It hurts.

It hurts!

I want to scream, but I can't.

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

A creepy chuckle leaves the person's lips.

Lips that seem to have something inhuman.

They take their time, cutting away at my shoulder.

Meanwhile I'm unable to do anything.

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

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

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

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

What a nightmare.

I sigh.

Looking around, I finally feel at ease again.

No one is here.

I'm alone.

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

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

It's unlocked.

Both locks.

I'm so certain I locked them.

I checked and checked again.

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

in the rain

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

Word count: 1848

TW: psychological horror

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Quickly I make a run for the bus stop.

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

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

I live in the middle of nowhere anyway.

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

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

Immediately I notice that I'm not alone.

Someone else is standing beside me.

Most likely also waiting for the bus to come.

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

Did he get it at the same store as me?

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

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

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

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

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

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

Finally the bus arrives and I get on.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Quietly I turn around to look further inside the vehicle.

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

For a moment I hesitate.

Do I really want to be on this bus?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The water has gone right through my coat after all.

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

I guess it must be cold here after all.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Something about it seems off.

Carefully I take a closer look.

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

No, cut isn't the word.

More like half of it has been melted off.

The contents are spilled all over the floor.

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

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

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

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

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

Honestly it looks a bit silly.

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

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

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

That is the truth after all.

I'm scared.

I'm terrified.

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

Everything about this day has been strange.

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

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

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

What if they did move?

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

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

What if they wanted to do something to me?

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

The rainfall has gotten even heavier.

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

This time I'm alone.

Though I doubt if that really is the case.

I mean, what if they're watching?

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

The dark green fabric has been completely soaked.

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

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

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

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

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

The bus finally arrives for me to go home again.

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

It's cold here too.

Like in the store small clouds leave my shivering mouth.

I look at the driver.

It's one of them again.

Or am I supposed to be one of them?

My coat shows our resemblance.

My hood is still up too.

I take it off and smile at the driver.

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

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

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

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

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

The door behind me closes and I take a seat.

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

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

It looks like the water levels have been rising far.

Much further than it normally would.

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

I'm glad I live up high.

We drive past a small cliff.

I look down at the water through the window.

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

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

Everything starts feels like going in hyper speed.

The bus has made a turn.

A turn off the cliff.

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

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

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

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

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

My head is pounding terribly, did I hit something?

I'm not sure.

It just hurts.

The vehicle starts to sink and I start to panic.

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

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

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

Now the people in the bus do start to move.

In a strange and shocking way.

Moving like they have never used a limb before.

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

Shit!

They're coming for me!

They're coming for me!!

They get closer and closer with their strange movements.

Trying to wrap their arms around me.

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

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

Desperately I hold on to the branch.

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

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

More hands.

And then they start to grip and pull.

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

The heavy rain has started pushing me down now too.

Pushing back my hands, letting me slide back down.

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

Trying to clean this place by getting rid of me.

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