What's For Dinner?

Angelic monster

A short horro story I wrote:)

TW: Blood & psychological horror

I've been such a coward.

Never before have I stooped this low.

Never before have I done something like this out of fear.

Yes, it's all because of a fear that can thoroughly be explained and the reason is an understandable one.

But somehow the feeling I got from doing it hasn't left me.

It's like it's slowly rubbing my back, poisoning my skin.

It has burned itself deep into my soul and the chills I got from that day still haven't disappeared in the slightest.

I dislike this feeling.

I hate this memory.

It feels like I will have to watch my back until my last breath.

That day I went with my students to do research on a strange cave that had been recently found, I'm a teacher you see.

We were driven there by the group that secretly had been holding my family hostage, I knew, but pretended not to and I was lucky that none of my students noticed.

The group wanted me to investigate this cave in order for more power.

It was said that monsters had been created from this cave.

The research I had done before had proven that somehow it's real.

That's when they found out.

My God, why did I have to find it?!

Why did I have to be the one to do this?

If I could go back in time...

Well it doesn't matter anymore now, everyone is dead.

All my students have been killed, every single one of them.

I still remember all their faces, I still remember their ideas, their wishes and the possible futures they could have had.

Well... I don't really want to go on about them anymore.

We found and caught the monster that was needed for the group's project. They needed a weapon and that's the one they wanted.

A monster that could destroy cities with ease.

Somehow the one we found looks much different from what had been foretold in the stories I had studied, no hairy paws or yellow eyes, but it was a monster nonetheless.

A monster of great skill and strength beyond that of a simple human being.

Now years later, the monster sits before me.

It has an almost angelic appearance, with white wings on its back like a lower class angel from the bible.

Its skin is dark grey, its form almost human, and covered with small white feathers, except for on its neck, face and claws. The head somehow has longer feathers growing out of it, like the hair on a human's head.

Its claws are like a combination of that from a bird and the hands of a person.

Having five 'fingers' on each hand that are more longer and slender than that of a human being and of course ending in sharp nails.

The other researchers and I have been unable to find out the gender of the creature, which is another strange thing. But then again, it's just a monster, nothing more, nothing less. It has already killed so many.

It snuffed out their lives like it was nothing and it will surely do so again.

Somehow, by continued teaching it has mastered the human language.

And now it sits before me, eerily calm.

There is a thick glass wall between us, since this monster is being used by the group as a weapon and is of course still a danger to everyone.

"Professor, what is it that you wanted to talk about?" the monster asks politely.

I can feel myself growing irritated by its tone.

Since when did it believe to address me by 'Professor'? That was reserved for my students, not this monstrosity.

Still I decide to let it slide for now, I don't want to anger it.

"Well..." I hesitate, while mustering up the courage: "It's about that day."

"I see." The monster looks down, does it remember? Does it feel guilt for what it has done?

"The day you found me, I assume." It guesses.

I nod: "That day I will never forget how you slaughtered my students." I almost growl at it whilst glaring.

"I didn't." It answers as if trying to hide its guilt.

I hate it.

I hate this monster.

"I want to know what went down there." I demand it: "How did you get there and why were you there?"

The monster hesitates for a moment but then begins to answer: "Well, I don't remember too much about that place. I believe that there are things I don't know about it at all."

"Be more clear."

"Yes, professor, I'm sorry."

"Quit calling me that." I guess I'm saying it now anyways.

It stops for a moment, almost looking shocked from my sudden burst of anger. Well it probably doesn't feel that anyway, I must have imagined it.

Then it nods as I sign to it that it should continue.

"From what I heard about the cave, it could be used as a way to conjure up monsters or demons."

"Go on."

"I don't think you would want to hear it."

"Continue." I say glaring at the monster.

It sighs in discomfort and then does as told: "I believe that there is something inside that cave that has the ability to turn something or someone who enters into a so-called monster."

"Yes, we noticed with the rat."

"Pro- erm, I mean sir, why did those students got sent inside? If you knew-."

I don't let it finish: "It was an emergency."

I was powerless that day, I couldn't do anything. It's not my fault.

"So, then do you remember entering the cave?"

To my displeasure the monster shakes its head: "No I don't. There are no memories from before I awoke."

"Awoke?"

"The moment I heard their screams."

"Well you are the monster of that place after all."

"Sir, I actually don't believe that to be the case."

Annoyed, I look at it: "And what the hell does that mean?"

"Like some of the other scientists say, I don't believe to have come from there, nor am I the creature you have been looking for. I'm just too different."

"They are just toying with you, giving you false hope, you're a monster after all."

Is it just me or did it seem slightly annoyed when I called it what I did?

No that can't be.

For a moment it remains silent.

"But then, isn't the monster in this situation yourself?" The monster then asks me as if it was something completely normal.

"What?! No! You're the monster, you are the reason they died." I panic, wondering what it is trying to do to me..

"I didn't kill them. I tried to save them all."

"Bullshit! You killed them, you were covered in blood when we found you!" I yell as I feel my face growing red. Why would it say such terrible things?

Somehow the monster remains completely calm.

"I didn't kill them." It repeats: "I tried to save them, but the one who went rampant was already killing the others even before I awoke."

"SHUT UP!"

But the monster continues: "I saved one person though, the girl, one of your students, she left the cave alive."

Rage has filled my mind and I'm unable to think clearly.

"I didn't do anything wrong!!!" I yell, slamming my fist against the glass.

But then calmly the angelic monster throws the undeniable truth in my face:

"Wasn't it you who pulled the trigger?"

Brother

This is the first short horror story I'm posting here on tumblr, I hope you like it and if you do. Please check out my Wattpad:

https://www.wattpad.com/user/Ardenla

TW: Gore, psychological horror

My brother has always been very kind. Not just to me, but also everyone and everything around us. We live together with our uncle in a nice house with a big garden. Honestly, the house might be a bit to the bigger side. I'm pretty sure we could fit another small family here, but I'm happy with just the three of us. My uncle is a pretty good cook too! And my brother and I do quite good at school and both have some friends.

Even so, something is wrong.

It has to do with my brother.

He is special. Unfortunately not always in a good way.

The first time it happened was during the accident that robbed us of our parents.

The car got crashed horribly, after it had been upside down a couple of times. It all happened somewhere in the middle of nowhere. I don't know exactly what happened, but at some point in time I had flow out of the car. I don't really remember, but I was surrounded by white. Someone was holding me and protecting me.

This was the first time that I saw my brother's angel.

They look alike. Both have the same face and body, but their eyes, hair and clothes are very different. The angel mostly looks calm unlike my brother, who shows a lot of his emotions. I'm not saying that showing emotions is bad. I honestly prefer my brother's emotional side, to the angel's cold side.

When the ambulance arrived, it took them a while before they were able to save my brother from the wreckage, he had been unconscious and didn't remember anything about the accident. Our parents unfortunately didn't make it. I don't remember crying so much as I did back then, it all still feels like a haze. That maybe in a few minutes the doorbell will ring and that I can see their faces again, that it was all just a horrible nightmare.

When the paramedics asked me about what had happened, I told them that my brother saved me. Or at least someone who looked like him. They looked at me with pity in their eyes, they carefully told me that it wasn't possible, but I insisted until they shrugged and gave up.

Are you familiar with the story that everyone has an angel and a demon on their shoulders? The ones you sometimes see in old cartoons or read about in old books? My mother always loved to tell me those stories. When they were still alive we would go to church quite often, but uncle thinks it's useless to go. Now we only go with our grandmother from time to time and with Christmas of course. Our mother believed in angels, I hope she is in heaven now.

I'm telling you this, because my brother doesn't only have an angel... He has a demon too. One that almost looks exactly like him, but like the angel is just slightly different. The demon is scary and seems to always be angry and full of hate. He hasn't hurt me, but he hasn't been nice either.

They're both just as tall as my brother and when they appear they are always standing close to him.

I wanted to tell our uncle, but my brother didn't want me to tell him. So I promised to keep it a secret. Pretty cool secret, huh? That is what I thought at first too, but I was wrong to think that.

The first time that I saw the demon, was when an older man tried to kidnap me. It happened close to the empty playground that we actually aren't allowed to go to. The man grabbed me by my wrist, it hurt, so I screamed for my brother who fortunately was just inside the hut we had built before.

My brother ran towards me, also screaming. Then it happened. His demon appeared, right before the man could take me inside a building. My brother's demon grabbed the man's arm. He squeezed it. He kept squeezing and didn't let go. The old man started screaming, burns started to form everywhere on his body and he let me go.

I ran to my brother, who then took me back home as quickly as possible. We never played anywhere near there again. We didn't tell uncle either. We just couldn't. My brother was scared, and because he didn't know yet, I told him about his angel, who saved me. This was when we made the promise to keep it a secret.

From this experience I learned that my brother has none or almost no control over his angel and demon. They usually just do some of the things that he was planning for even a second and come out when they 'feel' needed. Unfortunately this has cost the life of the neighbor's dog, the demon killed it.

Another thing that seems to be bad about my brother being able to somehow summon these two, is that it takes a lot of energy out of him. He gets easily tired and when they are both out, my brother will most likely pass out soon after.

Even though this has made my brother's life significantly difficult, he is always there for me and always ready to protect me. His kindness and strength makes me feel useless sometimes. So I always try to take extra good care of him too. I talk to him when I think he needs it or bake him cookies.

Last week something bad happened, something really, really bad. A friend of our uncle came by, or at least he claimed he was and us being the stupid kids we were back then let him in. Our uncle is a cop and this guy claiming to be his friend was actually a criminal, that wanted to emotionally destroy him. After my uncle arrested his friends. He wanted to kill us. That was supposed to be our last day. The day we might have joined our parents. But of course, the man had it wrong all along. He didn't know anything, he didn't know my brother and what would happen if he would hurt me.

One of the first things the man did when he closed the door, was stab me with a knife. It all happened too quickly, even though I screamed my lungs out, I didn't feel anything. I couldn't even hear my own screaming. My brother rushed to my aid. Both his angel and demon appeared.

His angel came to me, took the knife out and healed me. The demon on the other hand, went rampant. He ripped the scared intruder into a thousand pieces and when he was done he burned his screaming face beyond recognition. It was terrifying, I have never seen something as brutal as that and hopefully never again. I have never seen so much blood, it was everywhere. My brother who had tried to stop his demon, had collapsed and lied passed out on the floor. There was blood on the windows, guts even on the ceiling and some wall's had just turned completely black. For a few minutes I didn't even know where we were. When slowly some of the blood dripped down from the window, I could see the room. A couple of small beams of red light shone into the room.

Hell.

The only thing I could call that room.

Did a human really die in here? There is almost nothing left.

When my uncle came back, he of course, was very shocked to see his traumatized cousins covered in blood, in his ruined house, with bits-and-pieces everywhere from some unidentifiable person. The room, dark from blood. So much blood...

The police were quickly alerted and we were questioned, when my brother was back on his feet again of course. I was surprised when my brother told them the truth, he was crying and said he was afraid of what he might do to the people he cares about when the demon goes out of control again. Our uncle's colleagues had a difficult time keeping in their laughs at first, but soon after one snickered, the demon came out again. Attacking them. They were shocked and some of them froze up. Just in time my brother jumped in front, which caused him to get some really nasty burns.

My uncle didn't know what to say or do. He just stood there and stared with a horrified expression.

I ran to my brother first, I saw his wounds and tried to calm him down. While the officers looked terrified, I begged them to please not take him away. This fell on deaf man's ears unfortunately.

Another kind of police group was sent soon after what happened. A group that deals with the more 'special' kind of incidents. They weren't as nice as our uncle's friends. They took my brother away, the entire time he didn't want to look us in the face. Even when our uncle found his composure and tried to comfort him. He was taken, cuffed in a special van. I watched helplessly as they drove off.

I know it has only been a week, but I've not had a good night sleep yet, nightmares plague me day and night. I am getting counseling so it should get less with time.

My uncle and I are staying somewhere else, because everything still needs to be further inspected and of course deep cleaned. I honestly don't want to return there, I don't believe that, that place can ever be called 'home' again. Just thinking about it gives me chills and makes me want to puke.

Since nobody I know well enough died, I still have to go to school. My uncle did call me in sick for the first few days, but since the day before yesterday I go to school again. I don't like it, but we don't have a choice, the school is very strict. Uncle also said that it might be good for me, that it might take my mind off those terrible things that happened just a week ago.

My first day of school went as normal as if nothing ever happened, I lunched with friends who still believe I just got a cold and did the work that was given to me by my teachers. I'm not ready to tell them what happened just yet, how would I even start?

My uncle has brought me to school every day. The car has never felt this empty as I looked at the place my brother would sit. We don't talk much anymore and when I asked him about my brother, he didn't answer and just shook his head. He didn't want to believe what happened yet. I know it was hard on him too, no matter how much he tried to hide it.

I wish I could see my brother again, but I haven't even gotten any message from him or the officers who took him. I don't know if he's even alive. It makes me really worried.

Something strange did happen to me yesterday, I could feel someone watching me the entire day I was at school. I looked around everywhere, but there was no one.

Today was different though, well I could still feel someone watching me and following me around. But this time, when I looked carefully enough, I could see him.

It's my brother's demon.

Watching me without a break. Every time he notices me looking he starts smiling with this creepy, distorted smile.

It's still following me.

White hell

Here's another short story I wrote.

I hope you like it:)

TW: Gore & psychological horror

It's all white...

The room I'm in and the rest of this building is probably also all white.

I don't know where I am.

This cold blinding white, everything is this pale color, every object, all the furniture, every.... Everything.

I'm all alone, in this unending place with only one color.

At first, I didn't see it as much of a problem, I am quite introverted after all. Put other people in this room and I would find it all the more terrifying.

But now, I've been here for hours, there are no windows or exits. Or at least I haven't found any.

I have no idea how late it is or what part of the day it could be.

It might be in the middle of the night or perhaps in the middle of a warm sunny day. Of course I wouldn't know, I'm stuck in this building. This building that's completely white on the inside.

There is barely even any shadow.

There is constant white light.

I wonder what would happen if I stay here for too long.

Will I go crazy?

Some time later...

It has been long... or at least I think so.

How long? I don't know.

I think probably a couple of weeks, maybe a month, but I could be very wrong, so maybe just a couple of hours?

I've no clue.

The white light makes me feel cold, not that I'm-in-danger kind of cold. But just an inside kind of cold.

Like my heart froze or it's just pumping cold fluid throughout my body.

I wonder if I'm still alive.

My hands are still warm though, so I might be.

I noticed that sometimes when I close a door and quickly open it again, that it wasn't the same room as before. On a couple occasions, the furniture will be on a wall or even the ceiling.

I've tried breaking through walls, but it doesn't matter, I'm not strong enough.

An unidentified amount of time later...

I found something!

Not an exit unfortunately, but something with color.

It's a pool, a swimming pool in this boring white building.

The water is a calm, light blue.

So I jumped in...

And got out disappointed, it had all turned white under water. Just as white as the rest.

The blue was just an illusion, a dream. Just a small wish for normality in this one color hell.

The white hell, huh... sounds pretty funny, also quite fitting.

Later...

I've made a friend!

My first friend in forever!

The most beautiful friend one could ask for.

It's a small blue butterfly and this time, the color is no illusion.

The one thing that totally made my day.

My friend is stuck here too, so we work together to find a way out.

It is a very good listener and goes with me wherever I go.

I still don't know what name I would give my friend, but is it really necessary? Who am I to decide the name of a creature so beautiful. I'm terrible at naming things.

Its wings are a warm kind of blue, like an ocean during summer looked at by the bright sun.

We eat together and I talk to it, I need someone to talk to anyway. I will definitely go insane if I don't.

More time passed

I don't know what to do.

I hate myself.

I killed my friend.

My one and only true friend in this white hell.

Poor little butterfly.

He didn't want to come with me anymore, so we got into an argument. He said some really nasty things to me and... and I ended up hitting him.

Oh God, what have I done...

With one small thump of my hand, he was no longer...

I cried.

I cried for, I don't know how long.

I mourned him.

And as I wanted to give him a proper burial in the white sand, I noticed something.

My friend had given me one last gift. Did he forgive me?

A new color.

Red.

It came out of him, just a little bit.

Just a small drop.

A beautiful crimson red.

I am so lucky to have had a friend like that.

Date unknown:

I have found more red.

More than before, now when I enter a room there is red splashed on the walls. Maybe even on the ceiling and floor. I don't know what up or down is anymore. I just move from box to box. Everything is the same. Same old. Same old.

The red gives me warmth, it's the same crimson color like my dear friend gave to me.

And when I stay too long it starts turning brown. That's pretty cool!

I didn't know it could do that!

It's pretty.

I open my eyes, I still haven't escaped the white room. I'm still here, trapped by cloth so I can't move. Still alone.

There is nothing else then this white hell.

The machine that brought the dead back to life - Part 1

A slightly longer short horror story I wrote, cut into two.

Word count: 1947

Tick tock

The soft ticking of a clock echoed through a grey room.

Tick tock

Together with the rhythmic sound of the ticking clock you can hear the ticking of many fingers on many keyboards.

Tick tick tock

The tapping on the keyboards is much more out of tune compared to the ticking of the clock.

Grey tables are placed in long, neatly arranged lines from one side of the room to the other, on all of those tables sit people dressed in grey uniforms. The grey floor matches the rest.

All of this is colored in a slight blue light, caused by the many blue screens behind which these people are working.

For now, the hard working people ignore the clock, their work is more important.

Their income is more important.

Time is money.

Life is money.

All of these people had been carefully selected for working at a rather prestigious company, one that only allows a select few to enter their offices.

They have these selections for even the lowest of the ranks, such as these.

There doesn't exist a company more important than this one.

For this company controls life itself.

Life and death have been enslaved by this company.

In a city of steam and ash, this place is known as the best place to work at.

Complicated machinery is just in the other room, people can bring their loved ones back from the dead with a pricetag.

Still to leave them deceased is now being seen as immoral, because why would you let your loved ones die? No matter how much the person wanted to take the forever rest, the people that would allow it could lose their status and jobs. Sometimes they could even go to prison for cold blooded murder.

At one desk sits a woman, her name is Clara, dressed in the same uniform as the rest, typing away diligently at the computer. She types it all at an incredible speed.

Even though she is so amazing at her work, promotions are hard to come by, still she's happy with her job.

This job makes it so that she and her husband can live the life they want to, unfortunately his job has a much lower status than hers, but she loves him nonetheless. He always returns her love with the same amount, always wishing he could do more for them.

The husband, his name is Drew, makes a living as a car-repairman, machinery like that is his forte, his calling.

A small one bedroom apartment with a living room that's also the kitchen. They also have a small bathroom with only the bare necessities.

Living costs are rather high for them, causing them to almost have to live hand-to-mouth.

It has only been recently that Clara had started working at the company and their lives have already changed for the better. Food was something they could afford almost every day now, no need for living days on old bread crusts anymore. If they were to save up a bit, they might even be able to afford a bottle of wine.

Back at work Clara worked hard whilst thinking of when she could go back to the love of her life.

With their future only just beginning, they could start making plans on what to do next with their lives.

Perhaps save up money for a trip or to eat something nice one day.

A loud bell goes off and the people behind the computers start finishing up the last bits of their work, readying themselves to return to their homes.

Some chat with others for a bit before leaving, others leave quietly and speedily.

Clara says goodbye to her co-workers and takes her leave.

Through the dark streets she wanders, through the thick mist that is the smog, passing by the street lanterns that just barely show the heads of the people walking by.

Cars travel by, old-timey and repaired again and again, that it is the question if they really were the same cars as they started out as. Perhaps even the oldest parts have all been changed up.

Finally Clara makes it home, taking off her shoes before entering and embraces her beloved as he comes to greet her.

He calls to her, speaks her name, his voice tired from work, but still full of love, he had already made dinner for the two of them.

Over dinner they talk about how their day was, the work they did and their dreams for the future.

Then they rest on the small old couch by the tv.

The object looked as if it has seen better days and has been adjusted many times. Different colored plates can be seen bolted all over it. There are even some bolts that seem to have been placed at random and without purpose.

On the tv an advertisement plays, it shows the company for which Clara works causing the two to joke around about it.

Drew calls Clara 'Frankenstein's assistant' and Clara pokes fun at him for being the one to bring dead cars back to live.

The ad shows a famous person who had been brought back to life and was thanking the company that they were able to return back to working again so soon after the revival.

The teasing continues, until the pair is too tired to continue.

The next day was another day of hard work for the two, weekends aren't very common here, only certain people are entitled to it.

Like usual Clara took the smog filled streets to the giant building that was her workplace, her 'second home' the bosses would joke about.

Clara followed the crowd towards the grey room with all the desks.

Like always she sat down on her desk and started typing away.

A couple of hours later a small man wearing fancy clothes with golden buttons entered the room, he is one of the higher-ups.

He called for Clara and she turned to look at him.

What could it be, she wondered.

Is it something good? Or something bad?

Most likely it was something bad.

She could feel the anxiety in her stomach every step she got closer to the man.

The man looked at her in pity.

"Please come this way." He told her and thus she followed him.

They walked up many stairs to eventually reach the top of the building.

The top floor was much different than the basement, the building was so high, you could see above the smog of the old city and see the horizon.

Many objects were coated in gold and the people here were dressed the fanciest Clara had ever seen.

Clara and the man entered a room and she was seated at the end of a large table.

The old man in charge sat at the other end.

"Clara, I've got bad news for you." He said his voice sounded hoarse from age.

Clara's heart sank.

"Your husband, Drew, passed away."

For a moment Clara didn't know what to feel or say, but then a wave of intense sadness overcame her.

The tears came and she wasn't able to stop them.

"My condolences." The old man added, but Clara almost didn't hear it due to the screaming of her heart.

Then a desperate idea entered her mind, she turned to her boss, looked him straight in the eye and asked: "Can you please bring him back to life?"

The old man smiled: "Please Clara, you know it is much more than you can possibly pay with your salary."

"Please, I will do anything, I will work more overtime, I will, I will..." Desperation got a strong hold of her and stopped her mouth from creating words.

"I'm sorry Clara, but I will have to think about that. Please return to your work."

The small man came to send Clara back to the basement of the building and shakingly she went with him.

She couldn't stop her tears, she couldn't stop herself from desperately trying to find an answer.

Back in the grey room she sat behind her computer again, only to be unable to continue her work anymore.

She had to see her beloved, she just had to see him, dead or alive. It just didn't matter.

Finally at long last, the bell rang and Clara rushed home.

Through the smog filled streets she ran, bumping into people without apologizing, tears running down her cheeks.

When she finally arrived home she was completely out of breath, but continued on nonetheless.

But he wasn't there, the only thing the apartment was filled with, was old memories.

Old memories that would never repeat.

Old dreams that would never come into fruition.

It didn't even feel like home anymore for Clara.

There was however a letter on the floor.

It was a letter about Drew's death, it had been sent by his boss.

In the letter he asked if she could come to the small workshop and talk about what had happened.

Without locking the door, she rushed outside again, running to the place he had last been alive.

At the old workshop she found the boss who seemed to be grieving as well, he too just lost someone important to him, yes an employee, but also a friend.

They talked between tears about Drew and what they would do now.

Eventually they came to the conclusion that maybe, if they both went, they could get him back.

So together they went back to the company at which Clara worked and tried to get the boss to understand, both promising everything if it should be so.

But again the boss refused, because even together they wouldn't be able to pay the price for bringing someone back.

A couple of days went by and Clara started having more trouble with work.

The small man with the golden buttons came by her desk and asked for her attention: "We have seen how much you're struggling with the loss of your beloved, we think it would be better if you take things a bit slower." A sinister smile crossed his face, making Clara shiver.

She knew what this meant very well, she would either get fired or get demoted to the lowest part of the company.

Corruption, she thought, the company has been corrupted to the core, well perhaps it has simply always been this way.

Money this, money that.

Life seems to only be able to be saved with enough money.

Still Clara obeyed and followed the man downstairs.

They entered a room that looked just like the one she had been working in before.

It was like an exact copy, but something about it felt... amiss.

Though she could not guess what it was that made her feel that way.

The man showed her to her new desk and left.

Despairing every possible mistake she could make, she carefully typed the day away.

During it, she noticed that some of the people around her were in a much worse shape than her, some coughing, some's clothes looked more like wet rags.

But to them it didn't seem to matter, they kept doing their job, without missing a key.

At the end, the bell rang and unlike in the other room, no one said goodbye to one another. Almost like they were ignoring each other.

Far behind Clara followed them out of the room.

As they entered a dark hallway Clara lost the group.

In the dark she searched, until she finally found a door.

Believing it to be the right one, she opened it.

Artificial red colored light entered the dark hallway.

She peeked through the opening.

It took a moment for her to register what was going on.

She saw the machine.

The machine with the power to bring the dead back to life.

The machine that saved so many.

It was a really strange one, different from what was being advertised on tv.

It was one for multiple people at once.

And around the machine's fumes, were people.

Working people, even though working hours were long over.

They worked in rags, rags worse than she had ever seen before.

The people worked and worked, some clearly in pain.

Then she suddenly recognized some of the people.

Those people were ones that died, but who's loved ones couldn't pay for them to be revived again...

[TO BE CONTINUED]

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.

Recently I had a pretty strange dream.

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

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

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

All this in a horror game...

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

The puppet master

A short horror story I wrote.

Word count: 777 (Lucky number:) )

TW: Body horror, psychological horror & gore

The room is dark.

Is it even really a room?

I don't know.

But there are stage lights, so it's probably a room.

The stage lights are for my puppet show.

I control all here.

I am the puppet master here.

An invisible jester.

A magician without a wand.

And a wordless storyteller.

It's a magical show and I am the one in control of the puppets.

It is a show about life and a show about death.

A show of the fortunate.

A show of the unfortunate.

An everyday story.

An awesome adventure.

Out of all the puppets, there is one in peculiar, that I have the most control over. It is also the one that takes the most out of me.

There is a crimson thread coming out of each of my fingers, like that of the veins in a body.

Maybe they are my veins.

I don't know, it's not important.

Four parts of the legs, two of the arms, one for the body, one for the neck, one for the head and one for the facial emotions.

I, of course am also able to control the others to a certain extent, their crimson threads are bound to my own arms, legs and neck.

Maybe we are alike.

It might look a little silly, but even so my control over them is almost flawless.

This is going to be another great show.

This is going to be another great day.

Another hope for applause.

Another hope for approval.

In this room, where the audience goes unseen and the light only shines on my puppet show.

Honestly I'm not sure if there even really is an audience, but it doesn't matter.

No time.

The show starts.

And the curtains rise.

The protagonist wakes up and gets ready for its work.

As the public watches the puppet moving as if it was alive, I can hear some gasps.

Did I really?

Perfect, it is all going smoothly.

After a long day being overworked it returns home for a late dinner.

It decides to watch tv.

The crowd seems to have gotten bored. Maybe I should let something weird happen the next day.

At night the protagonist stares up at the ceiling, wishfully hoping for change in its repetitive and stressful life.

I can show this without sound, without words. Just the movements, lights and the face.

Some audience members seem to relate.

Isn't this all just in my head?

The next morning, the same routine starts.

It is stressing me out, I can hear their dissatisfaction.

Continuing, something happens at work.

Something bad.

The protagonist is treated worse than before.

The audience seems to be more interested in the plot now.

This problem seems to be getting worse and worse by day and yet the protagonist bottles it all up.

I let it seem like it has been bottling things up, it is a puppet after all. It doesn't have feelings.

Now I'm planning for the protagonist to make a heroic comeback, because that's what my audience loves after all.

A new day and more anticipation than before, because this might be the day and if not, it will most definitely be the day after.

The protagonist meets the bully.

Not yet, please not yet. Later is better, later is good...

Then suddenly a thread snaps.

It is the one controlling the emotions.

Voiceless I scream.

It hurts.

It hurts.

It hurts really bad.

Blood is pouring out of the thread, turning it gray.

So it was a vein?

The empty darkness is shocked.

This is not heroic at all!

As I try to grasp for control, I lose it all.

One by one they snap, leaving me in anguish.

So much pain.

All threads turn grey.

Yet I can't scream or cry.

The public starts booing.

They are already bored, they wanted a hero.

They wanted an interesting story.

A totally unique story.

A story they could relate to, but also making them feel better.

A story so strange, but also so normal.

Real and fake.

I need to change something.

I need to do something!

But then after my puppet has started yelling and hitting the others, the other threads snap.

The threads of the others.

Blood is everywhere and I have gotten numb from the pain.

The audience is disgusted by the sight of the bloody battlefield, that is the small stage.

My puppet show is ruined.

After all the other puppets have been ripped apart, 'my' puppet turns around to face me.

It's face filled with broken emotions.

It is broken.

They are broken.

Slowly the protagonist walks my way.

Were they always this tall?

Was the size just an illusion?

Maybe it is magic...

Step by step they get closer.

Each step sounding more human than the last.

The protagonist is approaching and I have nothing to defend myself with.

No weapons.

Not even words.

I only have the broken threads, the threads that were supposed to control everything.

I look to my sides for help.

Only the ignoring darkness stares at me.

Watching, blind eyed.

I wasn't good enough.

I'm not real.

It seems I was the puppet all along.

The only 'it' in this play was me.

The fears of an inanimate object

I wrote this one a while ago, but still found it fun to share.

I hope you enjoy this short horror story:)

TW: Gore, blood, dolls

Word count: 1534

I have gotten so used to the smell, I don't even notice it anymore.

It's the smell of old books, old people and old junk.

I've sat here, day in, day out. Never able to do anything. I can't move or speak. I can't even blink.

My head has always been fixed in one position and that is forward.

I am like many in this old thrift store, an old, dusty object.

I am a doll.

I know I am, I've seen myself in a mirror before, that's when they brought me here and it is my very first memory.

It honestly is very strange, I am an inanimate object with thoughts and feelings, yet I can't do anything or let anyone know.

I was quite upset and shocked when I found out. Scared, but unable to show the emotion. Wanting to scream but unable to tell anyone. Unable to move, but wanting someone to comfort me.

That was the worst part of my being.

I just woke up, learning that my life held no meaning and I would never be able to do anything or be loved by anyone.

I hated it.

I hated my existence.

I hated whomever put me here.

I hated my creator, yet there is nothing I can ever do about it.

So I just sat here. Always in the same place, always dressed the same, always looking the same. Always with a little extra layer of dust covering me. Always praying. Always hoping for a change.

I've seen the sun come up and go under for a long time now, from a tiny window in the back of the store. Each time it came, it took a little bit of color from the objects in its way. Until they turned gray and were thrown out.

I was lucky, the sun never shone on me, it couldn't. So the light just lurked ever so slightly under my feet. Like a hungry predator, waiting for its prey to run. But I of course would never move, so it just left every time it had to go again.

At some point, I got jealous of the sunlight, it was able to shine. It was able to move. It was always there for the people and animals and I could or would never be able to.

Such a stupid thing to be jealous of.

I was even more jealous of the tiny birds by the window, as short as their lives might be, they were my only source of entertainment.

The birds sang to one another and could fly, they could travel. Oh how much I wished that I would have been born a bird and not an inanimate doll.

I've seen people come and go, I've seen them get older and then eventually one day they just stopped coming and new people took their place.

Take me home, take me home...

I silently wished.

But who would listen to the pleading of a voiceless doll, an object without a soul.

Something that can't do anything or even think.

Well of course they are wrong at that last part. I am very lucid after all.

Unfortunately...

Then one day, The happiest day of my inanimate life, a little girl and her mother came to visit the store.

The girl saw me.

As soon as she did, her eyes started sparkling. I've never seen anyone's eyes do that before. Especially when they saw me.

The girl almost seemed to fly towards me, that's how quick she was.

She was the very first person that would speak to me.

"Hello Dolly, what's your name? Do you wanna be friends?" Her little arms stretched out to me in a hug.

I've never had a hug before, it is so warm. I wanted to cry, but of course I couldn't.

I wanted to tell her to please take me away from here, oh please.

Of course I wanted to be her friend, I've always wished for one and she would be my first.

It was like she could read my mind.

She begged her mother to get me for her.

Her mother wasn't too sold on the idea at first and called me 'that creepy old thing', but her daughter didn't care.

She wanted me and started to throw a fit, then the shopkeeper said that they could have me for free.

What a nice guy.

Now the mother couldn't refuse anymore and she gave in.

"Fine, but keep that thing away from me." She told the little girl, while looking at me like I was a dirty old sock.

Well I forgive her, I was too happy anyway. I had been here for god-knows-how-long and even the spiders didn't like me.

And so, I left the old thrift store and started anew with a new family and a best friend.

Molly (the little girl) and I did a lot of things together, she would dress me up at least 17 times a day. With clothes her grandmother had made for me. She told us that she once had a doll like me, that also looked very similar. She was also able to repair and clean me a bit and after that I had become a lot prettier.

After all that, even Molly's mother didn't even feel that bothered by me anymore.

We had tons of tea parties and Molly had of course given me a full tour of the house and introduced me to all the other dolls and stuffed animals.

I knew all their names by heart. I wonder if any of them were like me, but there wouldn't be any way of knowing.

I might not be able to do or say anything, but I really did have the time of my life there.

I have a home.

We would eat breakfast together, we would go on walks together. We would talk about anything, well more like I would listen, but I really don't mind.

Unlike other kids, Molly is a very gentle soul and always takes very good care of me. She has never even dropped me, not even by accident.

One day school had started for her again, we met during the summer holiday after all.

I felt sad to let her go, she wasn't allowed to take me with her.

Every time she came home, she looked a bit upset. She seemed to try to hide.

One day she asked me: "Dolly, can I ask you something?"

I could see tears welling up in her reddish eyes. "Dolly, do you hate me too?"

This broke my heart.

Of course I didn't hate her.

I would never.

She was my dearest friend.

My personal hero.

I felt awful, I couldn't do anything. I hadn't felt like this in a while, it was like I was back in that awful dark place. Where I would never be able to do anything.

I want her to be happy.

She doesn't deserve whatever she's dealing with right now.

Not with how kind and gentle she is.

And yet, I just can't do anything...

I wanted to talk to her, I wanted to support her or at least to be supported. Her mother is quite busy and didn't always seem to notice.

I wish I could let her know, even if it is only her.

But I am just an inanimate object, incapable of speech.

Tonight something awful happened...

Someone broke in.

It was unplanned, he didn't seem to know the layout of the house.

The burgler was probably looking for valuables.

Only Molly and her mother were at home that night.

Both asleep.

The man accidently entered the wrong room.

Molly and my room.

Molly is a very light sleeper and woke up by the gently creaking door.

She noticed the bugler and started to scream.

So he hit her, he didn't want any witnesses.

He was desperate.

He would even kill to get his prize.

He hit her again with his bat.

And again.

I could do nothing but watch this horrible scene in front of me.

I wanted to scream.

I wanted to save Molly.

He hit her again and she stopped crying, bleeding heavily.

Something snapped in me.

My emotions, but also my shackles which had kept me stuck for so many years.

I was going to kill him.

This man... had to go.

I don't know how, but I got out.

Out of my cell, which was my body.

Out of my dusty prison.

I shattered the room's window and with the glass shards, I pinned the man against the ceiling.

Anger.

Anger was the only feeling.

Anger and rage. Then maybe, also hate.

He screamed.

He cried.

It made me feel something... like joy.

Blood dripped down like a slow waterfall, creating a pool on the wooden floor.

Blood stained the carpet.

Bleed more...

BLEED MORE!!!

I think I killed him.

Did I go too far?

He stopped crying.

He stopped screaming.

Molly's mother runs into the room to save her.

I quickly return to my body, she probably hasn't seen me.

She screamed when she noticed the man on the ceiling.

She got her daughter out of that room as soon as possible, leaving me behind.

Leaving me behind in the mess I made.

I can see blue and red flashing lights outside.

The cops have arrived.

The paramedics as well.

Molly seemed to have had a slight concussion, lucky girl.

I'm so glad, it didn't get any worse.

Molly doesn't really know what happened though, probably just her child mind keeping her protected.

It has been a week and Molly is ready to return to school again.

And I guess I'm lucky too, it is take-your-toy-to-school day.

Molly has promised to take me.

I'm glad.

Now I can find out who made her upset like before.

And now I can do something about it.

With my new power, I will surely be able to make her happy again.

Thank you for the tag:)

Here are the five things you will always find in my works:

Ghosts

Unreliable narrator

Strange twists

Paranoia

Emotional

Tagging: @gore-void @mika3lmy3r2 @emmettkane @noisylime

5 things you will always find in my fics

Tagged by @cromwelll thank you!

Shipping

Present tense

Song lyric titles

Pop culture references

Exact word counts

Now I want to write something that includes NONE of these lol </3

Tagging five fellow fic writers: @0nelittlebirdtoldme @complicitsacrilege @goblins-riddles-or-frocks @udaberriwrites and @17panicattacksinatrenchcoat or anyone who wants to play :)

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...