Emma-Lilly
I would love to be an author when I’m older and I love horror so I decided to practice on here. Enjoy🥳🥳🥳🤪🤪🤪🤪
Emma-Lilly
I would love to be an author when I’m older and I love horror so I decided to practice on here. Enjoy🥳🥳🥳🤪🤪🤪🤪
I would love to be an author when I’m older and I love horror so I decided to practice on here. Enjoy🥳🥳🥳🤪🤪🤪🤪
I would love to be an author when I’m older and I love horror so I decided to practice on here. Enjoy🥳🥳🥳🤪🤪🤪🤪
It’s hard to talk about pain When it’s weight is constant on your chest And no one tries to lift it
It’s hard to suffer in silence When so many people surround you But you know they just don’t care
It’s hard to put the mask on When it’s smile just seems so fake It always seemed so obvious that you were not okay
Yet once you put it on its hard to take it off There’s too many broken pieces in you mind The mask helps keep them hidden
It’s hard to forget about the pain That left deep scars beneath your skin And tormented you your whole life
It’s hard to constantly fight To keep you head above the waves Which try so hard to push you down
For me it was hardest after my entire life was torn apart And someone finally ripped off the mask and asked if I was okay Because as soon as they uttered those words It was all becoming real
I should never have gone down the rabbit hole. I was too overwhelmed with curiosity, a sense that there was something more, but, as you know, curiosity killed the cat…
I just wanted to be happy. The only joy I knew was ink and paper, reality was just an endless void, the future blocked by the bleak misery of tomorrow. Escape seemed a mere dream that throbbed in the back of my mind. So when it came, I grabbed at it, and chased it, chased it down the rabbit hole…
It lead me through a land of wonder. With floating chairs and bookshelves, food and drink that maked you change sizes, everyone dancing and singing and treating you like you exist! But then, it all went wrong, everything started going down, down the rabbit hole…
The further I chased my dream, the more anxiety tugged me back. I felt happy but fear never left. It followed me; the shadow on my back, the sadness in my smile. Soon my safe place started to twist. The line between reality and make belief became indistinguishable. The people I called friends started to turn their backs, the people who I came to love started to seem more paranoid. Or maybe it was me. Maybe it was because I jumped down the rabbit hole…
My world is now dead. And I’m here, with a bottle in my hand. There is still a few left. Maybe if I take them, I’ll feel like I used to, like when I first fell down the rabbit hole…
Another thought gone, Another idea concealed, Within hundreds of pages, unturned and unread.
Perhaps if they’d look They’d find the thing they were missing But some things are better left unseen and unsaid
It holds victims and motives A web of deceit Hidden amongst the pain of his life
It hides fear and torment All of which caused him To take innocent lives with the flick of a knife
He watches, and waits For them to find out The lies he has told, the love that he lacked
But soon his own life will end And the secrets will die Taken to the grave, his mind broken and cracked…
They were at it again. Two deranged maniacs screaming words of ridicule. Each sentence past them and hit me, harder and harder every time until the emotional scar had cut deep into my heart. The pain had already engulfed whatever sorry life I was living, and left me numb, emotionless. I watched from the comfort of the stairs, my fingers wrapped around the railings, as if at any second I could fall into perpetual darkness. Maybe that would be better… for all of us. I didn’t want to go to bed, because he was always there. Always. He was death, and fear, and pain, sorrow, and hate, and even when I left he would still smile mockingly from behind dying eyes at the back of my mind. Just two years, two years and I could leave. Leave the chaos, the panic, the madness, all the things that had come to fall over my family. My mother stalked out the room, glancing at me as I sat huddled on the steps. She stopped, then came towards me. “Bed! Now!” Her voice was blunt, hints of hatred seeping into her words. “But I don’t want to go to bed! The man with no eyes is waiting for me in the closet! He’s there Mum he’s really there!” Though my desperation was clear she still saw it as a cretinous childish fear. “Oh for goodness sake Amelia you are 16! When will you stop blathering on about this NONSENSE!” I didn’t answer her, my eyes falling instead upon the close to empty bottle in her hands… “AMELIA I SWEAR IF YOU DON’T GO TO BED NOW I WILL DRAG YOU UP THERE MYSELF!” Still I stayed; a single tear rolled into the corner of my mouth. A burning sensation hit my cheek, stinging and throbbing. I held my hand against my face; the scar cut deeper. I stared at her, dumbfound. She raised her hand again, making me flinch. I crawled backwards towards the top of the stairs, betrayal continuously digging into my heart. My room was just across the hall. I just had to reach my room. Something brushed against me shoulder. “Deary, why you aren’t in your beddy byes? Surely a girl of your age needs… rest?” My father chuckled to himself. He wasn’t look at my face. “And that’s what I’m about to do, rest.” He raised a hand to my cheek, then stumbled, knocking into me. “Oops, got a little tipsy theeeere. Come here baby, give me a hug,” his voice slurred, and his breath smelt… funny. I backed away. “Oh come oooooon. Not afraid of your own father are you? I’m as harmless as, well as a farther! I’m a great Dad, so come here and give Daddy a hug like you did when you were just a teensy baby!” My back was pushed against the wall. He fell forward, and pulled me towards him. “Seeeeeeee? Harmless!” He said, wrapping his arms around my back. His hands moved down; I pushed him away. “What was that for, I was just hugging you!” I stared at my feet, toes digging into the splintered wood. He came towards me again, and kissed me on the cheek. His lips lingered, then pulled away. “Good night kiss for a good night girl. Off you go now! I’ll be waitiiiiing!” He smiled at me, then pushed me through my bedroom door. He’s in the closet. I looked up, my fathers shadow fell through the crack beneath the door, distorting to form a twisted devil that hung above me, it’s gaze mocking my fear, it’s fingers digging into my shoulders. He’s in the closet. He’s in the closet. From downstairs, I could hear my mothers gentle sobs as she opened another bottle, making my brain feel disorientated, making my head feel light. He’s in the closet. He’s in the closet. He’s in the closet. I could hear the distant shouting in my memories coming to reality, making my thoughts toxic, making my brain numb. HE’S IN THE CLOSET! The screaming, the fighting, the hitting and touching, the overwhelming feelings of fear, pain, sorrow, and hate, it was too MUCH! My head was nestled in my hands, my vulnerable body rocking back and fourth, I screamed! HE’S IN THE CLOSET! HE’S IN THE CLOSET! HE’S IN THE CLOSET! Silence. I was sat in an asylum of black, lost in my mind. The isolation was comforting, but I knew he would come back to the closet.
Something was off. The bitter air clung to solitary souls that wandered aimlessly through the night, followed by the watching eyes of a half moon. Discarded bottles and wrappers clambered soundlessly up desolate hills, slipping in and out of the puddles of light that shone beneath the street lamps. He was waiting. The last sign of life escaped from the darks debilitating grasp, and the night was his to keep. He took hold of it, using its disguise to conceal himself from the unseeing gaze of small children, all awaiting the sweet sensation of morning.
The concrete was encased in a thin layer of snow, in which his close to bare feet sank. I’d seen him before, dancing across the solitary streets, but I’d only seen him enshrouded by shadows, kept secret from the eyes of the living. His purpose only existed as an abstraction in my mined, his appearance only a whisper in my dreams. He may not have even exist, he may just be my thoughts and feelings distorted to form an inhuman devil, but to me he was as real as the sun that rose in the morning and fell at night.
I studied him, watching his movements, but still his meaning perceived me. The moon was slowly dying, dragging the star-specked sky down to the bottom of the earth. Yet still he stayed, slipping up and down the frost-ridden streets. I had begun to think he used the night as an asylum, a way to escape whatever dreaded reality he came from.
He stopped, so suddenly I nearly slipped from my perch behind the bedroom window. His head turned; I finally got to see him, the real him.
In replacement to his eyes, we’re deep hollow shells. His skin was yellowing, deep lines crisscrossing his weary face. His nose had completely eroded, leaving behind two holes that were dug deep into his head. A thick wooden jumper obscured the bottom half of his face, along with a coat that looked as if it were made from the night sky itself. His hands drooped to his feet, fingers brushing the snow that had formed only hours before. He gazed at me through lifeless sockets, then gestured for me to come down. I still wasn’t fully sure if he was really there. It was an easy explanation to think that a 12 year old mind such as my own would create a creature such as that, but still I was curious. I expected my brain to be engulfed in inquietude, but there was something about him that seemed too serene. Though his fingers twisted and warped into a crooked mess, I doubt they would have hurt a fly.
I slipped into fading black, the crunching snow being the only sound that could penetrate the thickness of the night. He held out his hand, and I couldn’t help but espy the thousands of lines that riddled his palms. I stretched my own hand out, making his look like that of a giants. He took it, then picked me up, cradling me in his arms. The chill of his skin hit me with a bitter tang. He kept hold of my hand. I felt my body becoming numb. My heart slowed, my breath stopped. The final image I could perceive was his lifeless, hollow eyes staring into mine as he held me close, and felt the final beat of my heart…
Pain. The manipulative devil that haunts and mocks the human race. It leaves them engulfed in anguish, helpless and alone. Sometimes it’s hidden in the shadows, mentally torturing you without your realisation, yet sometimes it’s right in your face infecting the empty crevices of your mind, and all you can do is let it drag you down because that’s all anyone can do, just sit and wait.
Nothing could bring me to giving up my most precious memory. Nothing. Yet there I was, rereading the same few words over and over, contemplating whether I should make my biggest sacrifice. I had too. I knew I had too. But so few happy memories filled the vacancies in my mind. If I gave up this memory, I would tip into insanity, if I gave up… her, everyone else would come with me, I couldn’t bring everyone with me. I thought of her precious memory one last time, before it was extinguished…
The pain I felt after that day clung to me, growing bigger and bigger until I was enveloped in my own torment. I was left with an abundant fear, a sorrow that lingered in the back of my mind, yet I was oblivious to the cause.
I sat at the kitchen table holding a letter in my hand. Each word left me more and more befuddled.
Dear Michael, Thank you! You have made the greatest sacrifice. Our daughter is back home and safe. They didn’t hurt her. Maybe you should see her again. I mean the last time you saw her was in the delivery room when I gave birth to her! Then you left us. Alone. Come visit sometime! I would love to see you again! Love from Ivy P.S want to grab some coffee sometime?
I stared at the letter. My eyes flicking from one word to the next. I grabbed a piece of paper and scrawled down 2 words, then sent it away. After that, I returned to my throbbing desolation…
I received a letter in the mail. I recognised the handwriting immediately. Michael.
Two words were scrawled on the page, almost illegible. It took me only a second to read them. It took me an hour to understand what they meant. He really had given up everything to save our daughter. He’d given away his happiest memory. I didn’t realise I was crying until a tear tumble into the corner of my mouth. Those two words changed everything. Those two words: “what daughter?”…
“ID please,” the man standing outside the door was tall, lines crisscrossing his ghostly face. Will pulled the plastic card from his wallet, and handed it to him. He studied the picture on the card, then moved his gaze to Will’s face. He placed the plastic on his desk and slid it back towards him. Then he grabbed Will’s sleeve and pulled him forward. “One of the main rules of the Casino: don’t mess with anyone. Trust me” he let go of him and pointed to a scar above his top lip. Then he moved aside and gestured to a piece of white card behind a glass case. “These are the rules. Break them, and your out.”
Will studied them, then pushed the handles of the double doors and was met with noise like the bitter taste of a lemon. He knew it was coming, yet at the same time it caught him off guard. Flashing lights shone on the floor, and the individual music from each machine merged and warped into one long sound.
He made his way to the bar in the middle of the room, and climbed onto on of the tall chairs that surrounded it.
The man behind the counter came up to him, teeth protruding from underneath his top lip. He leaned forward. “A drink tells ya a lot ‘bout a person. So, what do ya want?” He asked.
“Just a pint of beer will be fine.”
The man grunted, a flicker of a smile on his face, then walked away, muttering to himself. Will studied the machines and tables that were scattered around the room. They all seemed relatively new, however there was one that particulary struck his attention. An old, beaten up slot machine. The lights still cast a faint, barely visible glow on its surroundings. A woman was stood staring at it, with an empty coin bucket in her hand.
“Here you go lad. One pint o’ beer” the bar tender returned with a full glass in hand. “So, why you ‘ere then,”
“I don’t know. Just came across it” “Well, be careful. There are some strange people that come here. My advice? Stick to your own business” he forced a smile on his face, then walked away. Will finished his drink and wandered over to the woman in the corner, still staring at the same tattered machine. He reached into his pocket and was met with a cold , disregarded pound coin. He had forgotten it was there, and it had sunk deep into the crevices of his jeans. “Here, I don’t need it,” Will said to her, the money placed in his outstretched palm. She turned around, and Will got a proper view of what she looked like. She wore a tight crimson dress that accentuated her figure. Her lips were painted with lipstick. Her hair fell in brunette curls that had been tied back into a long pony tail, some of it escaping and falling over her face. She did indeed look attractive, yet there was an element of mystery concealed behind her emerald eyes. “Thank you,” she said, taking it from his hand. It fell into the machine, and she pulled the leaver, watching the shapes spin around. She whispered something illegible under her breath. Each image came to a halt. 7, 7, then a picture of a pineapple. She sighed. “Thank you anyway! I’m Aubrey.” She looked up at him innocently, her gentle smile giving her dimples. Then she dragged him away. “Four tequila shots please, kind sir” she said as they sat down. The bartender pulled Will towards him, something that had been happening more than he would have liked. “Nice work, Willy boy. She’s a cutie!” He winked at him. “Oh we’re not a-” “Four tequila shots coming up!” They watched as he poured tequila into four shot glasses, then he pushed them across the counter. Will didn’t think she had any money… They finished their drinks, and Aubrey turned to Will and put her hands on his cheeks. They were cold, and it send butterflies to his stomach. She pulled him forward. There was a fading bruise around her eye...
Will was perched on his bed, eyes closed, rocking back and forth. He opened his eyes, and found himself sat at the bar facing Aubrey once again. Two men looked in on him from behind the glass that formed his room. They muttered to each other, watching him slip further and further into insanity.