Writing Prompt

VISUAL PROMPT

by Art by Sans @ www.deviantart.com/Sanskarans

Write a horror or fantasy story based around this image.

Write a horror or fantasy story based around this image.

Writings

Derrière Toi

Elle était là, grande et blanche, ses cheveux noirs recouvrant son visage élancé. Je pouvais distinguer les lignes cassées de son menton aigu, entendre sa respiration lourde. Je sentais un regard me transpercer, mais je ne trouvais pas ses yeux.

Elle se tourne brusquement. Je sens une main se poser sur mon épaule, mais en réalité, elle est devant moi.

« Qui es-tu ? » je trouve la force de demander.

Elle se lance en avant d’un mouvement sec. Ses pas résonnent sur le sol. Elle est là, bien réelle. Elle court sans bouger le buste, telle une plante aux longues jambes. Sa chevelure sèche se balance entre les arbres immenses. Non ! Je ne veux pas être seule avec ça !

Je me précipite à sa poursuite.

« Il est là ! On n’est pas seules ! Aide-moi ! » je pleure dans l’obscurité.

Elle continue de s’éloigner. D’un coup, je trébuche sur une vieille racine noueuse, mon genou heurte la terre humide et verte. Elle se retourne et, en une fraction de seconde, elle est près de moi. Elle s’agenouille. Une main frêle et tremblante sort de sous ses vêtements blancs. Elle n’a pas d’ongles.

Elle effleure délicatement mon genou, et je frissonne au contact de sa peau glaciale. Elle est si proche… Je sens son souffle sur mon visage. Elle écarte ses cheveux d’un geste lent.

Je remarque alors qu’elle n’a qu’un œil, bleu clair. À la place de l’autre, il n’y a que de la peau bleuâtre parcourue de veines apparentes.

Elle fixe ma blessure, puis, soudain, elle me plaque au sol avec une force surhumaine.

Elle est sur moi.

Je plonge mon regard dans sa prunelle translucide. Une seconde. Puis elle m’embrasse sur les lèvres.

Un goût de pommes acides, de verdure. Puis, comme un souffle d’air froid.

J’ouvre les yeux.

Le placoplâtre blanc du plafond de ma chambre est immaculé, reflétant la lumière crue du soleil de midi.

Encore un rêve…

Cela fait maintenant des mois que je rêve d’elle.

J’ai décidé de l’appeler Amalia, sans trop savoir pourquoi. C’était le nom de mon amie d’enfance, celle qui avait déménagé en Thaïlande avec ses parents quand nous avions huit ans. Je l’ai mal vécu.

Elle aussi était grande et pâle, bien plus grande que moi. Ses yeux étaient d’un bleu magnifique, et sa chevelure d’ébène scintillait sous le soleil. Elle était douce et timide, sauf quand elle nous sentait menacées.

Je me souviens d’une fois où des filles que nous trouvions cool me harcelaient à cause de mes passe-temps particuliers : j’adorais collectionner des insectes et des feuilles séchées. Elles étaient six, grandes, blondes, sûres d’elles, et elles me traitaient de folle parce que je collectionnais des papillons morts.

Alors, Amalia s’est interposée entre nous et leur a crié :

« Oui, Émilie aime les papillons, et alors ? Elle ne t’a pas insultée, toi ! Laisse-la tranquille, elle peut aimer ce qu’elle veut. Elle n’est pas plus nulle que toi, on est toutes bien ! »

Cette dernière phrase m’avait réchauffé le cœur. C’était du Amalia tout craché : honnête, mais toujours soucieuse d’apaiser les conflits.

Plus tard, j’ai appris que sa mère avait poignardé son père. Elle avait des addictions… Une famille brisée. Amalia avait tout vu. C’est elle qui me l’a raconté. Petite, j’étais choquée rien qu’en l’écoutant. Mais elle, elle en parlait avec une étrange sérénité. Je voyais parfois une larme silencieuse briller dans ses yeux, sans plus. Elle disait que ça la rendait triste de savoir sa mère en prison, mais qu’elle acceptait les choses telles qu’elles étaient.

« C’est comme ça, et j’suis pas fâchée, tu vois. C’est dur pour nous, mais c’est dur pour elle aussi. Elle a pas besoin d’excuses pour être ce qu’elle est. Certaines personnes juste… sont. J’espère qu’elle ira mieux un jour. Mon papa va déjà mieux. »

Petite, je la trouvais juste calme et gentille. Aujourd’hui, je me dis que cette enfant était incroyablement sage. C’était un cadeau que de l’avoir connue. Deux ans après cet événement, son père a décidé qu’il était temps de tourner la page. L’état de sa mère s’était amélioré, mais ils avaient choisi de se séparer. Son père a obtenu une promotion en Thaïlande et y a acheté une maison. Ils sont partis un matin chaud de juillet, avant notre entrée en CE2. J’avais supplié ma mère de nous accompagner à l’aéroport.

L’aéroport de Toulouse était bondé. Amalia portait une robe blanche en coton, ses cheveux noirs étaient plus longs et plus brillants que jamais. Elle m’a regardée et m’a serrée dans ses bras, un câlin un peu timide.

Sur son visage, je n’ai vu aucun sentiment. Plus de fille calme et sage. Juste… rien. Puis elle s’est retournée et a traîné sa petite valise à roulettes, suivant son père qui nous adressait un grand sourire et agitait la main en signe d’au revoir.

Depuis, je n’ai plus jamais parlé à Amalia. À l’époque, nous n’avions pas encore de téléphone, et son père a changé de numéro en changeant de pays. Je repensais à elle avec douceur de temps en temps, sans plus. Cette pauvre fille… J’espère qu’elle est devenue une femme heureuse, qu’elle a surmonté tout cela.

Mais il y a quelques mois, j’ai recommencé à rêver d’elle. Tellement que je dors à peine la nuit. Heureusement que c’est mon année sabbatique… Je la vois comme ça, maintenant. Un œil en moins, perdue dans une forêt inconnue.

Mais ce n’est qu’un rêve, n’est-ce pas ?

Mes pensées tournaient en boucle pendant que je faisais ma valise. Aujourd’hui, je pars la retrouver. Ou du moins, retrouver ce qu’elle est devenue. Mon téléphone vibre dans ma poche. Une notification s’affiche :

« Air France : Mme Bailly, votre vol pour Phuket est prévu pour aujourd’hui, 20h38. Le vol est prévu à l’heure. »

J’inspire profondément. Pourvu que moi aussi, j’arrive à temps…

Darkness Awakens

The woman stands before me, out stretching her long, spindly fingers. No—not a woman…not a woman at all. But something like it. She was obviously female, but not woman—not mortal. I shuddered as she floated closer to me. Fog puffed in front of me as I breathed—she was freezing. I took a step back, my fleeting crunching in the decaying leaves from her trail. I pulled my arms close to my chest, goosebumps rose on my skin and my hair prickled on my neck. I new other creatures, such as the monster in front of me, lived and resided in these lands, but I had never seen them in person and I certainly had not been this close to one. My father would never let me out of the palace again if he knew who—what—I had encountered this deep in the woods. My mouth went dry when she was floating only a mere few inches from me, gazing at me with her cloudy eyes. Her bony hand still outstretched, expectant, but patient. Her long, night-black hair billowed in waves past her waist and the white robe that covered her wrinkly, gray body blew softly in the silent breeze. Her face was perhaps the most disturbing. Her cheeks drooped, as if stuck against gravity and her lips left slightly parted to reveal knarled, rotting teeth. But her eyes haunted me most—the still, soulless orbs seemed to pick out the most wicked parts of my entire being. I shivered, still backing away, but found it useless when my back hit the rough bark of a moss tree. The being stopped and it seemed that the whole world around me did the same. Not a single bird sang or fluttered, the leaves above me did not dance, and the wind ceased to move. All was quiet. I took a breath in, but my heart skipped beats. “What—what do you want from me?” My voice came out shakier than I had intended, but there was no controlling the utter horror I felt inside me. Was this some nightmare? Was I crossing over to the next life? Was I already dead and this is the angle that was sent to guide me? She did not answer, so I asked a different question in hopes that she might find it worthy enough to answer. “Who are you?” I muttered. Silence. I narrowed my eyes, cautious of her quietude, “If I tell you who I am will you answer me?” “I know exactly who you are…” I startled at her voice. It sounded like one and hundreds of voices at one time, as if more than one creature possessed her. She pointed at me, not accusingly, but confrontational, “I know what you are, Leora Clementine.” My eyes widened and suddenly I felt like a child again. Vulnerable and alone with no one, but myself to find a way to survive. I watched as fog stirred behind the creature in front of me and then found her gaze once again, “What do you want from me?” I repeated, a but louder albeit. I refused to hunker into a confined ball of hopelessness and rot. I might as well get answers about my life now. She snickered at my attempt bravery, “You think yourself worthy of answers, princess?” She rasped. I frowned, “You know what I am thinking?” The fog behind her began to thicken and surround the two of us at our feet. She grinned, exposing all of her teeth, “I know all things.” She croaked out. She offered her hand to me again, “Come, girl. I have much to show you. And you might get the answers you are looking for.” Her voice echoed in the silent wood. The thick fog, which had now split down the middle to reveal an opening of darkness, beckoned me. I let out a shuttering breath, “About my life?” Her smile grew wider and she shook her head—hair reflecting in the one ray of sunlight that managed to shine through the dense trees—“No princess,” she leaned closer, “about your death.” My mouth parted and a thousand questions ran a muck in my head, but I said nothing. I only stood there, watching her peer at me with ethereal and unearthly grace. She awaited, her fingers signaled for me to take hold. I hesitated, unsure of what outcome going with her could bring me. I closed my eyes, contemplating, whether the answers I needed were worth the risks. But, my life was not as valuable as my countries. I inhaled the cold air through my nostrils and exhaled. I had no choice, but to do this. I opened my eyes once again—she still stood there patiently. Swiftly, before I changed my mind, I grabbed her hand. Surprisingly, it was soft to the touch as she wrapped her cold fingers around mine. Slowly, creepingly, she led me to the small opening of the fog and as if giving us permission, it widened and the darkness awakened.

The Mistress of Borwood Forest

They said it was a bad idea to come here. But I never listen anyway.

Towering trees make it nearly impossible for any stream of light to make its way through. I had entered the forest at midday, but it might as well have been midnight. Only the soft glow from above the treetops makes it possible to see anything at all.

The wind whistles through my ears, playfully brushing my hair from side to side. Otherwise, it was eerily silent. Not even a cricket dare makes a noise in the Mistress's domain.

But that is precisely why I'm here. I'm here to make noise. I want to be found.

Leaves crunch underneath my every step. Twigs snap in response to my weight.

"Come out and get me, you bitch!" I yell into the expansive forest, "You took something from me, and I want it back!"

My voice is hoarse, I've been yelling for hours. If I keep this up any longer I won't have any voice left. Then I'd be stuck wandering this forest forever. Until she finally shows herself, that is.

She could make me wait for hours, months, years, eternity.

But she won't.

You see, I have something she wants. Something she wants even more than what she stole from me.

"I've waited long enough. Show yourself, you coward!" I pound my fists on the nearest oak tree, intent to make a point. You hurt mine, I hurt yours.

The breeze stills, and what was silent before becomes deafening.

"But I have so enjoyed watching you wander aimlessly." A menacing voice hisses behind me.

I turn around and the Mistress of Borwood Forest looms over me. She's more than ten feet tall, double my height. Her hair falls in long tangled curls that nearly reach the ground. The tattered white dress she wears flows in a phantom breeze, her hands carefully clasped in front of her. Her old, wrinkled face composed in a bored expression, but her gaze gives way to triumph.

"My sister. Return her. Now." I stand my ground, unwilling to break under her intense stare.

"I'll require payment." Her eerie voice echoes in the silence.

"I expect nothing less." I hold out my arm and slide my knife from its scabbard. In one smooth motion I slice the tender skin. Blood flows down my arm and drips to the ground below.

The Mistress's dull eyes widen and her body twitches. She knows she can't move until I invite her. I savor the few moments I have. Her agony a satisfaction I deserve.

"Drink up, bitch."

In quick swoop she's at my arm, slurping and gnawing at my gash. It only takes a few seconds before she jumps back.

Electricity fills the air. The breeze picks up to a whirl of wind, and the Mistress's body is encased in swirling leaves, twigs, and other forest debris.

As quickly as it started, the breeze stops. The Mistress stands glowing in the low light. But in the place of the old, wrinkled hag stands a beautiful young woman. Her golden eyes exaggerated by the soft pink of her plump skin. Dull tangled hair is replaced by vibrant curls that flow around her small waist. Her tattered dress now a sparkling gown that any young lady would envy.

"My sister now, if you please." I say with a bored tone. I've had enough of this waiting.

"Of course." The Mistress flicks her finger and my sister appears out of nowhere. She crumples to the ground. Pure anger flares in her eyes.

The Ghost Of The Forest

Princess April was dashing into the forbidden forest, her tiara dropping from her head while salty tears streamed down her face. She was running away from her problems of being a noble of her village, the harsh words of her father’s displeasure with her replaying through her head; she has had enough with the stress that she had to intake.

Growing tired, she slowed down her running before eventually stopping, gasping for breath as she was still sobbing. April wiped her eyes, smudging her makeup messily as she took in her surroundings; there was an ominous, damp fog that covered the entire woods, yet there were vibrant flowers that graced some bushes. Though, there were supposedly baleful rumors of witches and entities who roam the land, and because the king sheltered her of all evil of the outside world, she had no idea what she could be in for…

Out of the corner of her eyes, the princess noticed that by her feet was a tattered piece of paper that was surrounded by a circle of pale daisy petals; it was a surprise that she could even see it through the thick fog. She furrowed her eyebrows in curiosity and when she had finished crying, she slowly reached down to grab the paper, observing the cursive words that stained the paper.

_“What’s this…?” _April thought, reading the heading of the paper named, “The Ghost Of The Forest.”Oblivious as to what might occur as her curiosity was overcoming her, she softly uttered the words;

“I call upon the ghost That roams this deep woodland, As I wish to forever befriend the dead, And give me more contentment than anyone could understand..”

Then, gusts of wind spun in the circle of petals, making a tiny, weak tornado in the middle. April gasped with astonishment as she clutched the battered sheet of paper, her chocolate brown hair flowing with her pink dress in the breeze. Suddenly, the princess noticed a figure begin to emerge from thin air as the hazy air still once again; it seemed to be an towering, eerie being with long, ink-colored hair covering its face.

“Who are you?” April asked with a shocked expression, hiding her fear just in case it might trigger the entity.

“I am the Ghost of the Forest, like how the spell is named. Is there any reason as to why you summoned me?” The ghost questioned in a calm, unnerving voice that had hints of femininity in it.

It took just a couple of moments only for April to answer, having numerous queries forming in her head.

“Oh- no…it was only out of intrigue. Excuse me for wasting your time…well, if it is even possible to waste a spirit’s time.” The girl tried her best to hide her anxiety, and her body tensed as she apologized.

The ghost gave a small, almost unnoticeable nod before replying again. “It is alright; I understand. To repay me for my moments wasted, you should sit and talk with me.”

What it said had no trace of suggestion in its request for April to join it, and the girl herself has caught onto that fact. Her wish to stay safe, combined with her naivety, made her utter a small “Okay..” before sitting down in the petal circle with the sheet of paper in her lap. The Ghost of the Forest sat across from April, its lofty height still being immense compared to her.

The two had a surprisingly nice conversation that lasted for a long while, telling their stories to one another: the princess enlightening the spirit of the hardships of nobility while the ghost illustrates how its forced to drift through the murky woods in lonely solitude. It was a nice, comforting discussion, both of them relating to each other in a way, since they are both trapped in lives that they were forced into. Though April was feeling a bit of contentment about the talk, the entire situation still seemed a bit off…

A knight of the kingdom was rushing through the same foggy woodlands on his steed, desperate to find the missing princess. Finally, the man finally halted his horse as he found her.

“April! It has been months! Where have you-”

The knight abruptly stops his words as he notices princess April herself sitting alone in a circle of daisy petals with the roots of a nearby tree was trapping her legs in place, her face pale and her appearance grubby. She was speaking as if a friend was having an amusing chat with her, and she also had a contented smile on her weathered face, which was strange and concerning to him.

“Princess?”

No matter how many times he had called her name, she would never look his way; it was almost as if she was in a psychological trance, but the knight had no clue why…

Amy

“Now, honey I want you to follow my directions very carefully.” My imaginary friend Amy said to me. I enthusiastically nodded my head, excited she was giving me instructions. “So first. I want you to go and sneak into the woods in the yard, okay?” Amy asked me, I nodded again. I walked to my back door, reaching all the way up to reach the handle and opening the door, making sure to close it behind me. I ran down the porch steps and into the dark forest behind my house. I was so excited she was finally asking me do do something! She’s been telling me how much fun the other kids she’s been with before had for months! “Okay, Amy. I did it, what’s next?” I asked, barley able to stay still. “Okay, next run as far into the woods as you can! And hurry before your mom and dad come out and try and stop you.” “Okay!” I exclaimed, rushing through the trees until I collapsed, trying to catch my breath. “Oh…Kay… what next?” I asked, still breathless. “Now collect a big pile of the sharpest rocks you can find…” I found this instruction sort of unusual, but it was Amy, and she would never have me do anything dangerous. I took a few minutes collecting sharp, pointy rocks carefully. I don’t know how long I spent, but I soon had a ginormous pile of rocks piled in the middle of the woods, and the sun was starting to set. “Honey! Honey! Where are you?” I heard my mommy and daddy calling. I wanted to go and run to them, but Amy told me no. “Final step Honey. Take the sharpest, pointiest, hardest rock in your pile, and press it to your arm until you see red.” I started to worry why Amy wanted this? Why did she want me to hurt myself? “Oh, okay…” I said, in a small voice, too afraid to stand up to her. I found the rock she wished for and held it to the inside of my forearm and pressed hard, a small amount of blood started to pool, and i was about to take the rock away, but Amy insisted I don’t take it off. “Honey, you’ll be okay, just don’t move it.” She said in a kind of aggressive manner. Now, I saw a lot of blood. “A-Amy… I’m scared, this hurts and I’m starting to feel light hea…” my voice cut off as I passed out. I heard my parents voice getting closer and closer. “Honey? Honey! Oh my god!” I heard my mother cry as she picked up my limp body, my mind fading away quickly. “HONEY? WHAT HAPPENED? WHAT DID YOU DO?” She asked horrified. “A-Amy told me to” I squeaked out before my body went completely limp and my mind left my body. “NO!” She screamed, holding my, cold body close to her chest, my daddy coming up next to us and crying too. I don’t know where I was right now, but I felt tears running down my face too. I tried to move my arm to wipe them, but I couldn’t move.

Time skip: Honeys funeral

“She was only fi...ve years old.” My mother said, her voice breaking as she continued my eulogy. “She was loved by all, no one disliked her. She was so helpful and kind and smart and everything anyone would have wanted.”

Help

“I have a doctor’s appointment today,” Anna said. “Can you take the kid’s to school?”

Henry sucked his teeth. “ I would but I have to go on early tomorrow. They can ride the bus, right?”

“Abigail is still getting bullied.”

He rolled his eyes. “She just needs to fit back. If you want her taken then you take her. You have the day off right?”

After an argument that left her too worked up for sleep, Ann drove two daughters to the school.

She was eight minutes late. The respectioninst frowned at her. “The doctor has a ten minute rule, two more minutes and you’d have missed your time slot. We still bill you know.”

“With treatment, you could live a normal happy life,” her doctor said. He didn’t meet her eyes.

Anna wished she’d been late enough to miss this appointment. She’d have had another month of blissful ignorance. Anna nodded, accepting the information pages. Lists of medications. None of which would work.

“Thank you,” she said, because it was pointless to argue with a man who couldn’t look her in the eye.

She went home. Cleaned out the basement. Did her monthly checks that the locks were still in place on the portal. This check had signed her death warrant, but if she stopped it’d be so much worse. No it would be worse when she was gone, if she didn’t find someone to take over.

She picked up the house, before she picked up the kids. Checked her work emails. She called her husband, he didn’t answer.

“What smells so good,” Henry kissed her cheek when he came home.

“We need to talk.”

“You’ll be fine,” Henry said, after she’d told him what the doctor had said. “Isn’t that what the doctor said?”

“No.” The argument that followed was worse than the night before. She slept on the couch.

“I need you to take care of the portal when I’m gone, until the girls are grown.” She told her sister on the phone the next day.

“Yay, Henry would love that,” her sister, Beth scoffed. “I’ll just move right in.”

Anna hung up. She gathered herbs from the garden, grinding them together. She mixed them into a paste. Wiping it around the polished green trim of the stone portal door, she tried to imagine her husband doing this. She shivered.

“When I’m gone, Beth will have to take care of the portal.”

“This again.” This time he slept on the couch.

After work the next day, she replaced the flowers on the stairs. She tried to show her daughter how to do it, but her arms were to short to reach the hooks. Another year or two of growth at least, before she’d been able to do even this part. Did laundry. Cooked dinner.

“I don’t know what to do.” Her mind felt fuzzy already. Heavy and dull. The family curse had to be satisfied.

Another day of work. She garden after, trying to keep her young daughter’s interested in how to weed the sacred plants. A few more weeks, and she wouldn’t be here to do it. Time was slipping like sand through her hands.

“Henry, can you help me with dinner?”

“Can you carry this basket?”

“Please.”

His pillow stayed on the couch.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine when you’re gone,” her sister said.

Anna shook her head. She imagined the garden dying. The paste cracking and peeling. The portal would open once she was gone. Henry wouldn’t take care of it, not like she could.

“No.”

There was only one thing she could do, her last act to protect her daughters before she was gone.

“You’ll take care of the portal, if something happens to Henry? After I’m gone.”

“He’ll be fine.”

When Henry was asleep, Anna snuck down to the portal. It was old as the town. Maybe older. The truth of it’s origins long ago lost. But, the keeping of it had been carefully documented. Like the effects of tending it. The portal leeched the life out of the women who cared for it, but to not care for it would kill them sooner.

“Goddess,” Anna scrubbed the paste away. “I beseech you.” She thought of her daughter’s faces. They’d grow so quickly. They needed to be children as long as they could. Time was so very short. They needed a guardian who could care for the portal, keep them safe. “I beseech you.” She cracked open the portal.

The woman who stood on the other side wore her face. “Please.”