21 yo aspiring writer. I love mostly fiction, and sometimes do horror. My horror will have dark themes to it, as I work as a dispatcher and see this as a great venting opportunity and outlet.
21 yo aspiring writer. I love mostly fiction, and sometimes do horror. My horror will have dark themes to it, as I work as a dispatcher and see this as a great venting opportunity and outlet.
My heart races as I close the heavy, iron door. The sound echoes throughout the room and I hope with all my heart that the acoustic panels I spent thousands on worked. I sit softly on the floor and make sure to pat at the blanket. The panels, iron walls and dirt should block out all of the sound from anyone.
I slowly take a deep breathe, trying to make my heart steady, and sing the first line,
“Silent Night,” I hold my breathe and wait. No sirens, no yelling, nothing banging against the door. I smile softly and scramble to set up the little tree I had crafted and smuggled down here. I turn the tiny lights on and sit back once again, proud of my tiny christmas tree.
“Holy Night,” I sing again quietly. I stop once more to listen, being more confident now that I thought they weren’t coming.
“All is calm, all is bright,”
“Round yon virgin, mother and child,”
“Holy infant so, tin-“ I stop as I hear a noise, hair standing on the back of my neck. I wait for a second and nothing happens. My eye starts to grow fuzzy and I blink, sighing at the black dot. Ever since 2078, children had been born with a coming and going black dot in their right eye. Every single child.
The stinging stops and the black dot sits there. I decide to ignore it and continue.
“Holy infant so, tinder and mild,” My smile starts to grow, and I breathe a sigh of relief. I haven’t smiled in years. Happiness had been outlawed before The Cruel One took over. He said happiness made us weak. Birthdays, holidays, even jokes had been outlawed for the past 100 years.
“Sleep in heavenly peace,” Now that I was a grown man, I wanted to sing a simple christmas song. I sigh as I finish the first verse, unfolding the paper in my pocket and looking at the second. It took me way too long and too many bribes and favors to get ahold of this information.
“Silent night, holy night,”
“Sheperds quake, at the sight,” My eye starts to burn again, and so I press my palm into it. Thumping sounds from above and I freeze, turning to look at the door. It sounds like the guards had found me, but I couldn’t tell. I stay silent for another minute when I jump. Someone threw themselves against the iron door. I scramble to my feet, keeping myself quiet.
They throw themselves again and my hand slaps up to cover my mouth, trying to make myself smaller in the corner. The door comes flying down and a guard grabs me, his glowing high tech vest glowing in my dark hole. His grib on my arm hurt and I cry out, being drug up four flights of stairs. We finally reach the surface and I see all the different guard cars, my neighbors trying to see quickly.
The guard escorted me to their prison van, and secures me in there. Another man hops on with me, and we start heading off.
“How did you find me? I dug four stories under ground.” The man just laughed, turning his head down cause it’s so funny.
“You ever wonder what that black dot is?” I nod my head before I can stop myself, wanting to know things that most people don’t know.
“It’s a camera. We saw you missing and tapped into it.” I look at him with wide eyes, not knowing what to say.
“Camera?”
“How do you think we find every single person who smiles?” The man stands up, producing a needle from his pocket. He walks over to me and I start to struggle trying to plead with the man.
“I hope you have a good heart attack and a very, Silent Night.”
(This story contains gore and mentions of mental illness)
There is a saying that accidents happen all the time. What if people didn’t believe it was an accident. Does it still apply to people who have been screwed by the justice system? Thats how I find myself locked in Brown’s House of the Mentally Ill.
What happened to my mother was an accident, but no one believed me. They all said no girl was the type to stab first ask questions later, or forget their mother was visiting. What do they know? We had one fight, and now I’m the villian?
I’m not going to let this own me, my hands gripping at my sides. He said it was my fault, that damn shrink. Like I wanted to kill my own mother. I could feel my blood boiling under my skin, getting angrier and angrier. Then I stop, and a small smirk plays on my lips. If he wants me to be the villain, why not show him what I could do?
They called me sadistic, but I don’t think that’s fair. I hear the doctor say over the speaker that he’ll be in my room in a few minutes, and I look around. My eyes land on the mirror across from me, and I stand. Slowly approaching the mirror, I see a tired, run down version of the girl I once knew. This girl has greasy hair, and large eye bags. The door behind me opens, and my shrink walks in.
He begins to talk to me, not caring that I was ignoring him. I can hear the insistant babbling from behind me, my eye twitching in annoyance. I finally turn around, and set my emotionless eyes on him.
“I didn’t kill her,” I state, not knowing whether or not he was even talking about my mothers murder.
“Emily, someone had to have and you were in the house. Her blood was on you,” he states, not wanting to argue again. I huff at him and turn again, staring into the mirror. I tilt my head, watching as the shrink stands in slow motion. I can see his lips moving, but no words come out. I know this feeling: I’ll hurt him if he gets near me.
The shrink places his hand on my shoulder and I turn fast, hand laying on the back of his neck. With all my strength I push his head forward and his face meets the mirror, shattering it. He falls to the ground and I grab a large shard, turning to stand over him. I could feel the warmth of the blood filling my hand, but no pain comes from it. I can see the moment he realizes that I am a threat to his life. He made me do it.
I fall to my knees and the shard plunges in and out multiple times. They said this is what I did to her, but I don’t remember. I’ll make sure this would be a core memory. Nurses rush in and one stabs me with a paralyzer, forcing me to release the glass shard. I gasp and crumple to the ground, eyes still glued to the shrinks bloody face.
My lips turn up as they rush medical in, trying to save what I wanted to destroy. I let out one more huff before the medical staff take him away, leaving me on the cold hard ground. I look at the mess on the floor, just knowing that they’d take my mirror privileges away. He wanted me to be the villain, so that’s what I became.
The sound of my front door swinging open is what wakes me. I sit up in bed, chest heaving as I look towards my closed bedroom door in fear. Someone was in the house.
I slowly get out of bed and grab the hunting knife from my bedside table, unsheathing it. I press my body up to the wall and slowly open the door, making sure to stay in the shadows. I can hear the intruder walking around, bumping into things.
They come down the hall and pause, turning their back to the doorway. I creep out from the shadows and strike, plunging the knife into their throat and kill them instantly. I bend down to grab my knife and that’s when I see their face.
I forgot my mother was visiting.
My legs carry me down the street, my heart racing out of my chest. I have to get there, fast. The words from my earlier call still ringing in my head.
‘There’s a fire. I can’t find Victor.’
My little old neighbor called me at work, informing me that a fire started on our floor. The fact that she couldn’t find Victor scared me, and her not mentioning the kids just added fuel to the fire brewing inside the pit of my stomach. It makes me nausous, and even angry. My feet come to a stop when I reach our apartment building. The heat licks at my face and I have to be held back.
“My boyfriend and kids are in there,” I shriek. The fireman still won’t let me get past.
“Ma’am, you can’t go in there. We will send in some men,” he continues to push me behind him, not letting me get closer. Shouting from the crowd swarms my brain as I watch three firemen enter to try and find my family.
“My boyfriends name is Victor. The twins are Esrah and Aisya. Please, they’re six,” I breathe out, not fighting anymore. The fireman nods his head and calls out over the radio, telling them names. Just then, a hand clamps around my shoulder from the crowd.
“Sage!” The voice says, turning me around. I sigh in relief when I see one of my coworkers.
“Oh, Damon. What are you doing here?” I ask. Damon leads me away towards the back of the crowd. It’s quieter here, and I can think better.
“You ran out without an explanation, so I closed early and hurried to follow,” he explains, wrapping me in his arms. I let him, slowly starting to feel tired. My adrenaline was wearing off, and sprinting five blocks didn’t help my muscles.
“Here, let’s go sit while we wait for them to put out the fire,” Damon suggests, turning me towards his car. I nod and he opens the front door for me. The door closes and he gets into the driver seat, starting the car.
“Lets get you warmed up,” He whispers softly, hand rubbing my thigh. I stare at him, my head reeling with questions.
“Damon…” I breathe out. His hand grips my thigh, and his car starts to peel off.
“How long do you think they’ll take to
figure out that the fire started in the
bedroom?”
I don’t know if I ever want to go back. The fact that it was there all day and I didn’t know it makes it that much creepier. Have you ever spent time with someone who claimed they were connected to the other side? All day long, they’d go about saying they saw this ghost or talked to that one. I didn’t believe my sister when she said that she saw a monster. She’s six, everything is creepy to a six year old. Breakfast that morning was fine, the rice a little too mushy, but other wise alright. Keiko probably won’t let me live that down anytime soon, but she still ate it for me. It’s pouring rain outside, and whereas most kids would sit inside and read, Keiko wants to go explore. Mom always jokes that she was supposed to be a fish. Keiko wanted to go visit dad, so I obliged, getting her all dressed up and everything. She wore her special dress mom got her, and her little heels. Walking to the cemetary wasn’t bad. The chill hadn’t seeped in yet, and Keiko was jumping in most of the puddles. She kept looking behind us, and telling something to go away, but I just thought her imagination was running wild. I looked back and saw nothing. “What do you keep talking to?” I ask her, laughing softly. She shurgs her shoulders and looks back again. “I have a friend.” My eyebrows raise, but I drop it. We reach the cemetary and find our dads grave. We both sit under a tree nearby and try to stay clean, away from the mud. I take out the soup canister from my bag and share it with her. After a while, Keiko starts to get tired, leaning heavily on me. “Say goodbye to dad,” I say softly, picking Keiko up. She says goodbye, and burries her face into my neck. Random chills get sent up my spine, and I look around, locking eyes onto a woman in a trench coat. Her face was covered, so I couldn’t see who she was. Brushing it off, I start to walk Keiko and myself back home. The way we had traveled lead us under a bridge, and right before we walk under, I notice the same lady standing there. Confusion blooms in my chest as my brain starts to overwork. I left her behind me in the cemetary, there was no way she could get ahead of us. I pause, trying to gage all outcomes. Her face turns up, and my blood runs cold. A skeletal face looks back at me, blank eyes staring into my soul. The upturned shape of the mouth will haunt my dreams for the rest of my life. I start to back track to get out of there, when Keiko speaks up. “Do you see her too, Ito?”
The small group of five set out at dawn, ready to get their day started. The leader of the group, Vidar, leads them to the mess hall to greet the cooks. The five elders walk slowly, their pace never breaking. Their black robes touch the ground, giving the appearence of floating in the fog.
“Hello Dagfinn,” Vidar greets the main cook. The scarred man nods his head at the elder, turning back to his cooking. The group sits down at their favorite table, and start to talk.
“You know what I’m tired of?” One of the women, Unnr, speaks up. The groups turns to her, questioning looks on their faces.
“Well? What is it,” Reidun asks, the other woman of the group.
“You know how those kids mess with us? What if we were to do it to them?” Unnr asks, looking into the distance. Oyvind starts to laugh and tears sparkle down into his greying beard.
“And how do you plan on doing that?” His deep voice booms. Unnr shrugs her shoulders and looks to the final man at the table. The Mastermind. Alvis studies his hands, lost in thought.
“We could send them on a goose chase.” He speaks softly. Vidar hums in agreement.
“We could send them on a hunt for a Draugr,” Vidar laughs.
“Tell them old Hroarr was buried with an ancient spear in his grasp, and only the chosen one can retrieve it. And don’t tell them who is chosen.”
The others start to laugh and agree. The mess hall had started to fill up, so the quintet leaves to find their target of kids. They find four brothers after walking a ways, and head straight towards them.
“Eirunn!” Reidun calls to the oldest. The blonde boy runs up and greets the five friends. His brothers run behind him, also greeting them.
“We have a quest for you brothers,” Oyvind laughs, clapping the third son, Ebbe, on the shoulder. All four boys straighten up.
“What is this quest?” Brynjar, the youngest, asks. Vidar clears his throat.
“Do you remember dear old Hroarr?” He croaks. The boys nod their heads, Brynjar taking a second longer.
“Well, he was known as one of the best hunters in this village. It is said that he was buried with his spear, and only a chosen son of the same village can take the spear from his grave.” Vidar tells the boys. Unnr hops in next.
“And the one who gets the spear from the cold dead hands of Hroarr will be the best hunter.” The boys eyes sparkle with excitment, the thought of being the best hunter warming them.
“Where was he buried?” The second son, Sven, questions. The five elders look at each other, not thinking the joke would go this far. Alvis gets an idea, and smiles slowly before turning back to the four awaiting boys.
“Go down the deer trail, past Jagged Rock and turn left at the Waiting Lady. There, you should see a lone thorn bush. He was buried right there.” The four boys nod and start to run off, Brynjar turning around.
“Thank you for this oppertunity,” he beams at them, going to join his brothers. Once the four boys were out of sight, all five of the friends burst into laughter, wondering how long it would take the boys to realize they had been tricked.