When Death Visits

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.

Snowglobe

A short horror story I wrote.

TW: Abuse, blood

Word count: 655

Hilda wakes up early in the morning, quietly she gets out of bed and walks to her window. As she opens the curtains she sees that there is a thick layer of snow outside. Her heart jumps with joy, not only will she get presents today, there is also snow!

Maybe she could build a snowman outside her house or hold a snowball fight with her friends. She would have an amazing day anyway.

She goes back to bed, her parents rather don't have her out at this time in the morning, Hilda knows that very well. Back under the warm blankets she tries to get just a bit more sleep.

It's time!

Hilda can hear her parents footsteps and whispering in the hallway, so she gets dressed and leaves her room.

Just before lunch her aunt arrives.

Hilda loves her aunt very much, she is a kind woman and always pampers her.

When her aunt enters the room she has a big box with her.

"Natalie, you know better than to spoil the girl so much." Her mother tells her sister.

"Well it's just the time of year to spoil such well-behaved kids like her." She smiles and gives a box to Hilda: "Be careful, it might break if you aren't."

Hilda immediately starts being more gentle with the box, when she gets everyone's approval she opens the box carefully.

In it there is a giant snowglobe, in it is a giant Christmas tree, surrounded by little houses.

Hilda looks up in awe: "Thank you auntie!" her eyes shining like a thousand stars.

Her aunt smiles at her: "Do you like it?"

"Yes, Yes, I love it!"

Carefully she shakes it a little, it makes it snow in the little village!

"Auntie..."

"Yes."

"Do you think there might be people living in the village?"

"If that makes you happy, then sure." Her smile is warm and comforting.

Hilda and her aunt take the snowglobe to her room and place it gently in a great spot, one where it stands safe and is able to be seen from any side of the room.

After lunch Hilda decides to go outside to play with her friends, she puts on her snowshoes, her warmest jacket and her gloves.

"See you soon!" Hilda calls out to the rest.

"Just be back before it gets dark!" Her father calls back.

As she opens the door she notices that it has started to snow again, heavily. Maybe even violently.

The snowflakes fly around everywhere.

Then the sky starts to break.

It breaks and shatters.

Shards fall down.

And then the blood rain starts.

Coloring the cold snow a hot, dark red.

The smell of iron can be smelled everywhere.

In just a few seconds everything has turned red.

A woman sits crying in a corner.

"ImsosorryImsosorry!"

She can't stop herself from apologizing.

The tears fall down like a waterfall, creating short-lasting stains in the old carpet.

"For the last time Hilda! THERE. ARE. NO. PEOPLE. LIVING. INSIDE. THIS. THING!!!"

Hilda whimpers.

"For god sake, GET THE FUCK UP AND LISTEN TO ME!!"

Hilda starts apologizing again, she can't control it, but it makes her husband get even more upset.

He keeps yelling and yelling at her, she doesn't really understand what he is saying anymore.

Is it really my fault? She wonders.

I don't even know what I did wrong?

Her husband is completely red-faced from anger.

So much anger.

He yanks her by her hair.

Then he takes her most prized possession.

Her snowglobe.

He takes it in one hand and hits her with it.

And again.

And again.

TWHACK!

TWHACK!

CRACK!!!

The glass shatters and the man kills his wife with the broken snowglobe.

Blood and water gets mixed and drips with the snowflakes onto the floor.

It doesn't take long for the police to arrive, the neighbors called. For a long time they had always looked away to what happened in that house, but the last blood curdling scream was enough for them. They did what they never thought they would do, calling the police.

The husband was arrested at the spot, but the damage was already done.

Hilda will never move again nor will she ever talk about the people living inside the globe again.

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?"

23:37

Here is another short horror story I wrote:)

TW: Gore, eyegore

How long has it been now?

5 years?

Or 15?

I honestly can't remember.

But I do know that it has been a while.

I really don't know where the time went since I started working at this hospital.

I'm a doctor here.

Not too good, but not too bad either.

Average really.

Really average.

But even so, seemingly needed.

Many people who start working here leave not too long after, but I stayed.

"Are you still feeling up for it? The night shift, I mean?"

The voice of the hospital director takes me out of my head.

"Sure." I mumble.

He turns his back to me: "Great! I knew I could always rely on you."

I nod and leave the room.

I am a bit tired, but some more coffee will probably get rid of that feeling.

Right, back to work! I think to myself, a bit less energetic than I had hoped.

I'm usually the one who gets the shifts the others can't do.

Though I really could have seen this one coming.

And working overtime has become rather normal.

As I quickly drink from my small cup of coffee, I rush to the room I need to go to.

While I pass two nurses on my way there I catch a few words.

"Is he doing it again?"

"I think so, maybe he should just leave."

"Yeah, or there might be more mistakes than usual."

I know that they are talking about me and I want to turn around to tell them that I can hear them, but stop myself just in time.

It doesn't matter anyway, if I say something, it won't change anything.

I really need to get going.

I do my shift like usual, I rather take my time with each patient then go fast through my list. This does unfortunately cost me my break, but then again I usually skip those, so it doesn't matter.

Time ticks by slowly and before I know it, the darkness has swallowed the outside world whole, only leaving some lights.

As I enter one of the patients rooms I greet them and take a seat next to the bed.

While listening to their problems, my attention suddenly goes over to the tv.

The pale blue light shows a news reporter.

The words 'URGENTS NEWS' in red light attract my attention.

Something about a virus? If I get it right.

"Doctor? Are you still listening?"

"Ah, yes, sorry. What were you saying?" Embarrassed I look through the list, avoiding eye contact, they luckily continue.

When I've listened to everyone in the room I get up and ready myself to leave.

I turn around one last time.

Wasn't there a tv in the room?

Maybe someone took it away...

Walking to my next stop I can suddenly hear others whisper.

"It was all his fault right?"

"That his patient died? Yeah, it is."

"That's awful."

"I wonder who is going to be next."

"If you ask me, he really failed his job as a doctor."

"Why do they even allow him to continue this work?"

I clench my fist, I really should just ignore it, but it's just too difficult now.

When that accident happened, they didn't do anything to help me or to stand by me.

They only use me to not get blamed themselves!

My thoughts don't matter and the whispering continues, getting only meaner, cutting deeper into my skin.

"Oh, will you please shut it?!"

I ask angry as I turn around.

But there is no one.

The whispering has stopped too.

Do I hear someone walk away?

Never mind, I should get back to work.

As I enter the next room, I'm greeted by an older man who is still awake.

I take a seat next to his bed and start our conversation.

After a while I suddenly notice that something has appeared on his right cheek.

"What's that?" I ask pointing at it.

"Is there something on my face?" He asks, a bit frightened from my seriousness.

I lean forward to take a closer look.

It looks red and swollen.

There is a strange stripe.

Suddenly it opens.

It's an eye.

It looks at me.

It stares into me.

It judges me.

It calls me a failure.

Then I remember what I had seen on the tv before.

A virus.

This must be it.

"Doctor? What's wrong?" The man asks, shaken.

"Don't worry." I say without looking away from the eye in his cheek.

"You will be in need of another examination."

I try to stay as calm as possible and rush him to the ER.

I call over some of my other colleagues who say they will come help me soon.

"What's going on?" asks the man with panic in his voice.

"You're sick." I say calmly

Suddenly my vision changes, it's almost like watching an old movie too close to the screen. My senses are gone.

The doctor notices the spreading of the eyes.

"I need to stop it, immediately." He mumbles as he takes the scalpel from the white table.

Calmly he lowers it closer to the biggest eye.

"I just need to remove it."

He knows that he should wait for the others, but they are taking their sweet time to get there.

"W-what are you doing with t-that?" The man almost starts to cry.

"Don't worry, I will save you." The doctor answers with a kind smile.

The scalpel gets closer and closer.

With one swoop he takes out the eye.

Blood flies around the room coloring it from white to red.

He can't hear his patients screams of anguish and just continues removing the eyes.

After a while his patient doesn't move anymore.

Did he fall asleep?

The door opens and the doctor's colleagues enter.

"W-what the hell happened here?" One of them asks in a trembling voice.

"We have a virus." The doctor answers calmly: "I just saved his life."

"Saved his life? You killed him!"

"No, he is just asleep for now."

One of the others steps forward to the patient.

"His eyes have been removed, why did you do it?" As he looks up, the doctor sees it.

His colleagues have been infected too!

There is another eye in her neck.

It needs to be removed immediately!

The doctor quickly moves close and slashes it out, she gurgles for a bit and then falls to the ground into a puddle of her own blood.

His other colleagues scream and try to run, but the doctor is faster.

"Don't worry, I forgive you from whispering about me. I will save your lives as well."

After the successful operations the doctor moves to the front desk, the people behind the desks aren't people anymore.

Their many eyes stare at him.

One of the monsters screams and the doctor looks at the red trail he has been leaving.

They hit something and an alarm goes off.

The lights turns red.

They must be spreading the virus!The doctor thinks.

He quickly runs at them, slashing their vitals. Removing some of their eyes.

It doesn't take long for more monsters to appear, these are even more Grotesk and have even more eyes than the others.

They try to grab hold of him by his arms, making him drop the scalpel.

But it's not enough to stop him completely and so the doctor runs away.

Hallway after hallway, it's endless.

They won't be able to find him.

They won't be able to infect him.

The hallways get darker and darker and a monster that was chasing him is getting behind.

It's time to hide somewhere, the doctor decides.

Quickly he opens the first door he sees and rushes inside.

He locks the door behind him and waits for the monster's noise to pass.

"You won't last long this way." An old creaking voice behind him suddenly says.

The doctor turns around and peers into the darkness.

It takes a couple of minutes for him to get used to it.

But then he sees.

In the room, on an old chair, sits an even older lady awaiting him with a smile.

Unlike the others in the building, she seems strangely normal.

Did she flee here? The doctor wonders.

Then he changes his attention to all the clocks in the room.

Has this room always been here?

He couldn't remember.

Some of the clocks are new, others are old.

Some digital, some have hands.

All of them seem to stand still on a certain time, yet all different.

12:03

18:49

11:55

09:12

No, on closer inspection, they're all broken.

"Do you want to know where you are?" the old voice asks him in a familiar voice, yet he does not recognize it.

Where had he heard it before?

"Who are you?" he asks, but she doesn't seem to feel like answering him.

Instead the old woman laughs: "In this room are the people who took their last breath. These clocks show the last time they did. Some are long gone, yet some just a minute ago." With this she smiles at the doctor, it's a joyless and cold smile. "This hospital has quite the history." She ends.

He doesn't understand, what does she mean with all that?

"Well, talking in third-person is the last thing that will help you understand the situation you got yourself in."

"What the hell?" My senses suddenly return violently back to me, my vision is back to normal as well.

I look down at my hands, even though it should be too dark to see, I can see the blood. I can smell it. I can feel it.

It didn't happen.

It didn't happen!

IT DIDN'T HAPPEN!

NOTHING DID!!

"You added to this pile of clocks here." The old woman smirks, but as I look up at her she isn't old anymore.

She is a child.

She looks like she came out of an old picture.

"Did you really forget about me?" She asks, moving her head slightly sideways.

I don't remember her.

Why don't I remember her?!

"That's unfortunate." She says as if reading my mind: "But it won't save you from what you did."

I frantically try to find the light-switch.

I can hear people in the hallway, they must be searching for me.

Suddenly the girl, now a middle-aged woman, swings an old hand watch in front of me.

23:37 it says.

Now I remember, 23:37, that was my reason for doing the work I did.

Wait, what time is it now?

The lights turn on, I wasn't the one who did it, but it's one of the former monsters.

I'm in the morgue.

There are no clocks in here.

"You're coming with us pal!" the intruder yells at me.

I sigh and look at my watch.

It's 23:37.

Perhaps it is my time too.

The puddle

A short horror story I just finished writing:)

Word count: 469

While waiting outside, I spot something strange.

A puddle lighted by a street lantern moving in a rather strange manner.

It doesn’t take long for me to notice that it’s probably just the wind playing with it, just as the wind is playing with my hair.

Blowing it in and out of my face continuously, almost like a small child that just got its hands on a new toy. Tirelessly as if to signal that it will never bore.

Again my gaze wanders back to the puddle.

It ripples in a strange manner, almost as if something alive is in it.

But I know for certain that it can’t be anything, since it should be as shallow as any other small puddle on the neatly tiled streets.

Perhaps an inch deep at most, but most likely even more shallow.

The water starts to move around quicker and more wild, making me almost believe there to be a fish flopping about.

Perhaps it is a bird, who knows.

As I start to feel the slightest bit of guilt, of possibly letting some small animal die, I get up.

I slowly stand up from the cold bench and walk over to it… slowly… very slow.

Now the water seems to almost be dancing, dancing inside the small puddle.

Up and down it goes, now I’m sure the wind doesn’t have the power to do something like that.

As I gaze into the dark puddle, I can’t seem to find the bottom of it.

Is it just too dark outside already for me to spot this?

No, I can see inside the other puddles perfectly fine, the many lines of them neatly in rows.

Before I know it the darkness inside it seems to grow, the puddle has gotten larger and larger..

It can’t be!

I try to take a step back, but it’s as if the puddle itself has taken me within its cold gaze, staring back into my very core.

Nothing I can do about it, I stare back, into the cold wetness of its never-ending insides.

Something deep and dark is within it.

Would I seem possessed to those around me?

Well, I’m sure I’m alone though. It’s too late for someone to see me, for someone to stop this staring contest.

The water has calmed down again, as if seeing me has made it sink deep into thought.

Calmly it ripples again at the rules of the wind.

Then rapidly something comes out of the puddle.

An arm.

A human arm.

Grasping in the air for some unknown reason.

Perhaps for help.

Without thought or perhaps still possessed by the water I take it, trying to take it out of there.

It’s coldness seeps deep into my body as it grabs my arm with full strength.

For a moment nothing else happens, just me staring at the body part clenching me.

With a quick yank it suddenly pulls me closer.

Closer and closer.

Until I too am taken into the darkness of the puddle

The tree

The most recent short horror story I wrote:)

Word count: 722

TW: Psychological horror

Rain mixed salt with fresh water.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She's barefoot and looks dirty.

Her eyes are red from crying.

I estimate her age to be around 14.

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

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

She nods, still trembling.

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

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

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

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

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

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

I return home and close the door behind me.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The book

A short horror story I wrote.

Word count: 1504

TW: blood & grief

I look up from my phone as I hear the noise of falling books.

It seems that Camilla has pushed Emily again.

My shy classmate is lying on the floor with eyes red from crying, though she certainly isn't the only one.

It's the funeral of another classmate after all, Jane, now the dead girl, used to be quite popular at school.

Always running around and helping others in need, even with her status, she never forgot about others.

Yes, she did break the rules more times than anyone could count, yelled back at teachers and was overall never afraid to speak her mind.

She was hard to dislike and everyone seemed to want to be close to her.

Unfortunately this means she had few 'real' friends, very few, but I digress.

The once so joyful girl, now lays weirdly calm and quiet in the open coffin.

I can't stop myself to wonder if underneath that layer of make-up our friend really is.

Would her lips be blue?

Would her skin be cold?

I too have bawled my eyes out when I got the news, Jane was dead and yet no one seemed to know or care what had caused it.

Like it was some kind of secret, would it be bad if it came out?

As her class, we were taken to be at her wake to show our respects, but I'm pretty sure the teachers would want to hang another lesson on this.

Perhaps they might have us write an essay on death or learn from our former friend to not become like her.

It sucks.

They suck.

But from all the people here, I hate myself the most.

The last time I spoke to Jane was last week, the day before she had passed.

If I had said something different, if I could go back, if I had known.... Would I have been able to change the outcome?

Would we be in school? Would she pass me by with a smile? Would she talk back to another teacher again?

But there won't be anything like that again and honestly it is difficult to believe.

I just... I can't accept it... not yet.

As the other girls leave I walk over to Emily: "Hey, are you okay?" I ask her, while helping her gather the books.

She responds in a sad nod, though in my heart I know she's not okay.

She looked up to Jane as an older sister, the two had always been close even before high school.

I look at one of the books I help her stack up and notice how well-made they are.

"T-these are pretty." I say, my head starts hurting again from the amount I've cried, I don't think there are any more tears left.

"Thanks" Emily sniffles and then she takes one from the pile: "Here, take one... you were one of her real friends too, I can tell." A sad smile crosses her face.

"Thank you."

I carefully take the book from her hand and help her back onto her feet, after that we quickly part ways again.

I look at my phone, it seems that I still have some time before my dad comes to pick me up.

I don't feel like talking to anyone and on my phone there only seem to be posts about Jane, so I don't really feel like being on it either.

I walk to a corner where I can be alone and take a seat on the couch.

I tuck my phone in one of my pockets and open the book.

I'm pretty sure Emily has made this herself, she's very creative and this looks like her style.

Like usual she has turned it into a sort of scrapbook with fitting pictures.

When I first held it I had already noticed it being pretty heavy.

It seems to be filled with pictures.

On the first page it says: 'Goodbye Jane, our dear friend, our dear daughter', with a recent picture from the girl in question smiling brightly, the birth- and death dates are noted underneath.

She didn't get much older than sixteen.

Did her parents commission Emily to make this?

I turn the page.

So... so this is what she looked like as a baby, huh...

I wonder... are all her pictures here?

I flip through it and it seems like that might be the case, though mostly the good ones.

There are some bad ones, but even so they are more light-hearted and funny, showing all her sides.

"Only Emily could have made something like this." I mumble to myself, she was probably the closest friend after all.

I stop at a random page, here the pictures seem more recent. They are from one of her social media accounts.

Jane had always wanted to be a photographer, so there are really a ton of them. Mostly herself though, with a few pictures of scenery in between.

I flip to the next page.

Is it just my imagination... or did she just move?

I look closely at the picture.

I'm... right?

It's a picture from about four years ago, taken in a theme park.

Both Emily and Jane are in this picture.

The Ferris wheel behind them, it seems to glow... like really glow!

I hold my hand slightly above it only to see the light reflecting back at my hand.

Suddenly the sweet scents of popcorn and cotton candy enter my nose just as the sound of cheerful music enters my ears.

From the page, Jane looks at me, turning her head and smiling at me.

Quickly I slam the book shut.

I'm just imagining things right?

Weary, I look around, but it seems like no one has noticed me at all.

So, too curious, I open the book again on a random page.

This time it's a picture from four months ago.

Jane seems to be alone in a garden filled with butterflies, not only in the picture itself, but also in the scrapbook around her.

Though this time nothing seems to move.

I sigh, a bit disappointed and look up from the heavy book watching the world outside the window.

Unlike what I expected, it suddenly seemed to have turned into the butterfly garden.

I can even see Jane standing by the plants with a camera in her hands.

Without thinking I walk towards the window, still no one seemed to have noticed me, neither me nor her.

I can see some of the butterflies walking on the glass and with each breeze the dark green plants sway gently.

I place my hand on the glass and Jane notices me.

With a familiar laugh she turns to me and waves.

Then she slowly raises her camera and takes a picture of me.

As the flash ends, I'm back on the couch.

Did I not move?

Not at all?

The book is still on my lap, I haven't even closed it.

I look down at the garden picture again, but it doesn't move.

I look out of the window and am only greeted by the parking lot. Yeah, there are a few plants, but not as many as in the garden.

Jane is also nowhere to be seen.

I turn back to the book and flip it to another random page.

This time it's from four weeks ago.

Jane is standing outside, watching the sun go down on the beach.

Only her dark outline is visible at the center of the slowly darkening sky.

Still, it's a good picture.

It feels mystical and mysterious.

As nothing happens I start looking around again.

Then I notice a white wall slowly turning yellow and shortly after purple.

The lights in the room turn into stars and if I listen closely, I swear I can hear the sea.

I can smell the salt water and feel the warm sand underneath my feet.

Jane's silhouette seems to welcome me, inviting me to join her.

Suddenly a loud noise or at least louder than my thoughts, takes me out of it.

It's her family, her parents are crying.

I feel horrible and I can't even bring myself to go up to them, to tell them about how wonderful their daughter was.

How she took me, as many others, out of the darkness and back into the light.

That it's okay to make mistakes, that it's okay to cry.

But I can do nothing.

I can only go back to the book, pretending I didn't notice a thing.

I open the book again, this time on the final page.

The last picture.

It's not a picture of Jane.

It's a picture of the city at night.

Is this the final picture she made?

I look at the date.

Four days ago...

That's the last day she's been alive.

Was this the night in which she had passed?

It had to be.

The picture starts to move again.

Jane seems to be holding whatever took the photo.

She is walking, from the way she takes each step, I notice that she's anxious about something.

There aren't many lights on.

Just a single street lantern, casting shadows around itself.

Suddenly she stops.

Something is moving close to the lantern.

"W-who's there?" I hear Jane say, fear clear in her voice.

No answer.

Something is moving closer.

And then it moves faster.

Jane drops the camera, or perhaps she fell.

A loud slashing noise can be heard, followed by a couple of horrid screams.

I can't move my eyes away from it.

Blood enters the picture.

But it won't stop at the picture.

It starts to consume the book.

And it doesn't stop.

Floods and floods of blood leave the pages.

I drop it, but my hands are already stained.

It just won't stop flooding. 

Delivery

A short horror story I wrote:)

Word count: 1757

TW: Gore, psychological horror

Click, click, click, thunk!

It could not comprehend what it saw above us.

A scarlet red sky greets us as we finally left the dusty old warehouse.

Dark buildings casted their shadows over the old and empty streets, only letting red light stream into view at specifical parts, showing what I wish not to see, almost like a spotlight on a stage.

To be honest I’m glad that the package I have to deliver can walk by itself. The thing would be way too heavy to carry.

Standing slightly shorter than an adult, this porcelain-looking (I don’t know, I’m not the collector, might be porcelain after all) automaton, is the object I’m meant to deliver.

Since the world has gone to hell, I’ve been doing deliveries for people with money and resources that are too scared to get stuff by themselves.

It’s a dangerous job, but to survive in need of things like food. This, right now, is the most comfortable job.

I point towards one of the dark buildings, only one of the door handles on which can be seen the reflection of the red light.

The automaton turns its head slowly upwards to look at me and then turns its head to the door. I can hear the gears working overtime.

Carefully and slowly we make our way to the door.

At the door I stop and the package does the same.

I swear that is some great tech…

While readying my crossbow, I listen to all the sounds around me.

The trusty sound of my crossbow.

The gentle ticking of the automaton’s gears.

The dripping of water… or blood.

Then I turn my concentration to whatever is behind the heavy doors.

The quickest way to the point of delivery is right through this building, so there isn’t much of a choice. Of course I could walk around it, but the chance of being seen by monsters is too big of a risk and I’m unsure if the little one here can run or not.

It was so strange, well the whole thing.

The guy that wanted me to get the automaton… crazy inventors I guess.

I found the machine inside a coffin shaped box.

I was told that the machine could walk and that I should use that to my advantage, so of course I did.

I can’t carry a whole coffin in my lonesome, no matter how hard I train.

A soft sobbing behind the door takes my attention.

I listen more carefully.

There is a distinct difference between the cries of a monster and that of a human luckily.

So, there might be another survivor in there.

My hand hovers over the doorknob, which looks almost to be glowing thanks to the lighting.

I’m scanning it in a way, trying to sense if there’s any heat coming from it.

But there’s no warmth coming from it and as I finally lower my hand I feel the cold iron entering through my gloved hand.

It might sound bad, like it’s completely frozen, but it isn’t. It’s just clear that it has been a long time since the door was opened last.

As quietly as possible I turn the knob and open the door.

The heavy object lets out a, for my feeling, too loud creaking.

Immediately I feel cold sweat in my neck.

Slowly. Slowly. Slowly. Carefully. Careful. Be careful!

I nod to the automaton that it can enter, but it doesn’t understand.

“Get in!” I whisper to it.

I can hear some of the gears turn, finally it responds entering the darkness without a word or hesitation.

I follow suit and close the door behind me again, terrified that something might have heard it.

Suddenly I sense something moving.

There really is still someone in the building.

Let’s hope that it isn’t one of the insane roaming around.

The constant blood red sky doesn’t help much when it comes to calming folks down.

Exposed too long and one might lose their mind… or so is told. I haven’t had any trouble with it yet.

There’s a shadow moving, well more like trembling in fear, behind the altar.

The red light behind him exposes him to be a priest.

Calmly I walk forward, until I make out his wrinkled face.

The look he shows me is one of pure terror.

I lower my weapon.

“Good evening sir.” I greet him, while holding my free hand up in the air to show that I’m not planning to do any harm.

“Y-y-you’re not o-one of t-them?” He asks, still trembling and almost falling over his own words from fear.

“No sir, as you can see I’m not.”

I sense the ticking of gears approaching closer to me and the priest shrieks.

I see him opening his mouth to scream, but I won’t let him. In a flash I rush over to him and cover his mouth with my hand.

“I need to deliver this package in one piece, so please don’t give away our location.” Then I silently add: “That would benefit you too.”

I can feel the thin old body shaking in fear, making me feel bad for scaring him like this.

Slowly he closes his mouth again and falls to his knees.

Quivering he puts his hands together, but just before his two hands touch, he drops them to the floor again.

“We’re just passing through, I don’t have a problem with you praying.” I tell him in a gentle tone.

The old man shakes his head, his state says it all, he’s seen too much.

“I-I don’t think God i-is h-here.” He cries.

I’m not a person of faith, I never was, so I’m not sure what to tell him.

“Do… Do you think I-I’m wrong?” He asks after listening to my silence: “T-that there never t-truly was a G-God?”

I sigh, just what the hell am I supposed to answer to a priest who has lost his faith?

“Sir.” I bow down to him, holding out a hand for him to help him up: “I just deliver packages. I don’t know what is the truth and what isn’t.”

He doesn’t take my hand and instead turns his head to the dusty floor: “Perhaps the teachings were wrong after all…” He mutters more to himself than to me.

I scratch the back of my neck: “Well…” Don’t say it, just don’t: “There’s a place with other survivors I can bring you to, if you want that is.” Only in my head I add ‘You can talk about this stuff with them’.

But he shakes his head.

“Leave! You won’t understand!” His voice is suddenly filled with anger and frustration.

“We’ll be going anyway.” I shrug.

“Leave!” He yells again and I suddenly hear something big climbing over the roof.

I curse and quickly grab the automaton’s arm.

“We gotta go!”

We rush further back.

Back door. Back door.

Where the hell is the back door?!

Part of the ceiling breaks down and a huge, spider like monster drops down, casting the room in even more shadow.

I hear the priest scream.

The monster turns to him.

I can’t see anything, but the next thing I hear confirms my suspicion.

The crushing of bones.

The tearing of flesh.

The dripping of blood.

As I turn back to the machine, it seems almost as if it found the door.

It’s holding it open and looking at me with its normal expressionless face.

“Great job, buddy!” I whisper to him, taking his arm again and rushing back out into the crimson coloured streets.

In order to keep to the shadows, we enter another building.

I believe this was a university at some point, built around the 13th century.

It’s much bigger than the church.

Again I hold my weapon ready.

You never know, it’s because this building is so big, it could be a nest for those things.

“Let’s be quiet.” I whisper to the mechanical being next to me and immediately think about how strange it is to talk to it. It’s a machine, not a human or a pet.

But it’s nice to have something to talk to, even if it’s just a bundle of gears and porcelain. As long as it’s not a hungry monster I’m okay with anything.

While wandering around I sense something moving inside one of the rooms.

I stop in my tracks and as the automaton notices, it too stops.

I remain silent and listen to the soft noise.

There might be another person in that room.

Quietly I walk towards the door and open it.

A person inside is sitting behind a desk that I'm pretty sure used to be a teacher’s.

This person doesn’t look as frightened as the priest from before, or perhaps I’m imagining it.

“Oh… so you’re human?”

I nod: “What did you expect? Or what did you hope for?” I did notice the man’s disappointment even though it was just a slight hint.

He seems to have noticed that I noticed and turns his gaze back to something on the desk: “I used to teach here, you know.”

“I see.”

“Do you have any memories of attending school?”

I shrug: “Nothing that stands out, just a more peaceful life and worries about nothing.”

The man smiles, his face looks red in the light.

“I see, that must be nice.”

I take a step closer.

“What are you reading?” I ask curiously.

“A book of faith.”

“Faith?”

“It’s all true you know.”

“They mention the apocalypse and the end of the world.” As he speaks he loses his composure and starts speaking rapidly in a desperate tone: “It’s all because people went to church less and less. I never did after all and you certainly don’t look like the type that would. Oh God, I should have gone and prayed, but instead I’ve weakened the Lord’s power to protect. This is divine punishment.”

“I see.” I answer: “If you want to, I can take you to where the other survivors are.”

The teacher shakes his head: “Never! We are meant to perish! It’s the only thing that can save this forsaken world!”

Crap that only made him yell even louder.

I notice a strange shadow in the corner of my eye.

Something from outside is trying to climb inside.

Arms that almost look human, but also very far from it.

I warn the man by pointing behind him.

“God is the one who decides my faith! You should join me in it!” He stretches out his arms to grab me, but instead the creature behind him has already taken hold of him.

I don’t want to see what happens next, so I quickly rush out of the classroom, taking the automaton with me.

We rush out, further, out of the city.

Into a forest, here even the leaves are red, but not scarlet like the sky.

As I believe that we’re far enough away from the shadows of the old city, we slow down.

I take a seat on a tree trunk and let my traveling companion sit next to me.

“Don’t mind all those people, buddy, just decide what you want to believe for yourself.”

Slowly I see the automaton’s head go up and down and then up again.

Wait…?!

Is it nodding?!

Book of the apocalypse

I've recently started posting a new book I'm writing on wattpad and I was wondering if there are people who might be interested in me posting it here on tumblr.

The story is about someone trying to survive on their own in a zombie apocalypse and ends up finding themself drawn to a book they find.

Anyway here are the prologue and the first chapter, please let me know what you think:

TW: Gore, psycological horror, spiders, depressing theme's

Word count: 673(prologue)+1800(Chapter 1)

It's dark.

An oppressive silence prevails.

Only to those who live close to the ground, a loud rhythmic noise can be heard.

This is of course exclusive for those like mice and creatures much smaller.

Creatures with a good sense of hearing.

To a cat or a dog it might still be audible, though they would probably only hear a soft tapping.

Something tapping across the floor at an almost unearthly speed.

Driven by something unknown to any breathing kind.

Yet somehow able to scare away those creatures with incredible hearing.

The tapping is the true sound of doom.

The ticking across the floor clearly means nothing less than death.

The tapping is that of many small insects.

Insects moving strangely in unison.

Insects all move in the same manner, as if not multiple but just one creature.

The ticking races onto a metal shelf and stops there for about a second.

To those with the good ears, they might catch something sounding closely like something's scraping the metal.

Or better... something eating the cold metal.

If you were to hold a light there and perhaps something like a microscope, you might spot some of the small scratches made on the metallic surface. Since they are so difficult to spot.

As the second passed the small insects continue their journey once more.

A loud noise can be registered by them, vibrations can be felt and they immediately stop in their tracks.

A person, a human, has come into the room.

Loudly to the insects, quietly to the human.

His heart makes the loudest, yet calmest noise.

A noise of comfort.

The man does not care or know that he's being watched.

He turns on a light and the insects start sprinting towards him.

The light shows what they are.

Their truest nature.

Small spiders, about half an inch per length, excluding their many thin legs.

The legs that made the tapping noise.

Small red eyes, seemingly scanning their surroundings effortlessly in high speed.

But the light shows something else about them.

Something else that is wrong.

They are in fact not any natural kind of spiders.

They're mechanical.

The light turns them into small flashes of silver.

If you were to inspect them up close with a magnifying glass, you might even spot very tiny screws and threads across their bodies.

The spiders leap and like some of the kind they're meant to represent, they almost seem to be able to fly.

The man has noticed them now too, but far too late.

The small man-made insects have already landed on his bare forearms.

He quickly tries to remove them with his big hands, which he is successful with only a few.

About two thirds are still on him and have decided to dig themselves into the skin of their prey.

The man yells for help and another one comes, just in time for those who had fallen back on the floor.

For some strange reason, there seem to be more of them now, it's like the spiders have copied themselves many times over. Perhaps with the help of the metal they had been 'eating' before.

The first man can feel the spiders move underneath his skin, climbing and digging their way further up his body.

Looking closer you should be able to see them move as little lumps through his flesh, they don't go too deep, well not at first at least.

Further and further they go.

They have a mission.

At least if you could call it that.

Crawling further without a moment of rest, almost oblivious to the panicking man trying to stab them with the help of a knife.

An ambulance has already been called and is on its way.

Too late, too late.

The small spiders make their way into his neck.

Mercilessly they continue.

As they finally reach their goal.

The head.

The brain.

Now they do dig deeper and deeper.

All the small spiders secretly and silently communicate to one another strange messages, such as: 'OUT OF CONTROL HUMAN' and 'ERROR'.

They had been made in order to help human beings, but ended up being the defining factor of their decline and deaths.

The spiders all drugged and changed people so much that they turned into nothing more than zombies.

Devouring the flesh of others without a hint of sadness.

The minds of these people were lost completely.

Chapter 1:

Grass.

Buildings.

Cars.

More grass.

Plants.

Metal.

What are these called again?

It's morning.

I'm thinking about words.

Thinking in words... it's been getting more and more difficult.

Am I going to lose them?

Train racks...?

No, train tracks! Those are train tracks!

It's morning and I'm living.

I'm alive... I think.

I'm alone.

There was something about mornings... right?

People counted them?

Back in the old times... I think.

Now mankind has long stopped counting the years.

If there even is something I can call mankind.

For all I know they have all but me died out, leaving me alone in this dark and dangerous world. The only one who can protect me is myself.

The only reliable one in this world is myself.

The only one making sure I don't end up like one of the monsters, is again myself.

Even with the fact that the world has practically ended for my kind, the sun still rises and after a while, it goes down again.

If you want to know how this all started, you're asking the wrong person.

Because I don't care.

Surviving till the next day is the only thing left on my agenda.

Even though dying might seem nice, becoming one of those things would be horrible.

I glance out of the window from the old train, watching the rising sun, all the while clutching the handle of my spear.

I made the thing myself so it's pretty shabby looking, but at least it does the job right and keeps the monsters at a distance.

Quietly and swiftly I leave the dark, abandoned vehicle.

If I stay here any longer they might find out after all.

Vigilantly I follow the tracks to the station, ready to fight or flight at any moment.

Those hungry bastards aren't getting me for dinner!

I won't be their prize nor the one they might see as a hero.

Though I highly doubt that they are able to either 'see' or 'think'.

As I walk into the broken down, but still dark train station I notice that even though it's in a bad shape. It still has some beauty in it.

It's an old train station, most of the part that has collapsed is the newer, later build-on part.

The old part is still standing strong.

Yes, most of the stained glass is broken, but the ornamented walls are still clearly visible.

Somehow giving me this really nostalgic feeling, to a time unknown to me.

I shake my head, It's not the time to be in awe with old junk, it's all useless now after all.

Making sure that nothing is around, I climb onto one of the platforms.

As I wander around I suddenly notice a strange object on one of the still intact benches.

Somehow it draws my complete attention, I cannot help myself but to investigate it.

I hold my spear before me, so if it moves, I can kill it immediately.

Step by step I get closer.

Is it dangerous?

Is it edible?

A million wordless questions race around in my mind, but none of them ask the right one.

Carefully I take the object in hand.

It's a book, my inner voice tells me.

It's a leather bound book.

Old, but still intact.

Without thinking I open it.

Not even the spiders have taken it, that's weird.

As I see the first page, something is hand-written on the bottom. It takes a moment to understand what it says: 'EX Libris: Q. F. Shannon'

This must have been the name of the previous owner.

I wonder what happened to them.

Though that is completely unimportant.

I turn a couple of pages and find more small black words scribbled on them in a strange form of...writing.

They make me feel... lightheaded... that's the word... right?

Suddenly I sense a presence behind me.

I take out my weapon and attack whatever is standing there.

Somehow it goes right through...

I can feel my heart pumping quickly.

Cold sweat slowly makes its way down my neck and back.

"Good morning." A strange voice out of nowhere says to me.

It's... speaking... human speech...

It's speaking to me.

Shocked by the sound, the voice of another human being, for the first time in a long, very long while, I turn around and point at them with my spear.

It's a strange person, wearing some kind of old and strange costume. One from the lost time.

Without speaking I threaten them with my weapon.

They are unlike me.

My spear should have hurt them... but it went right through!

I can't trust them!

I can't trust them!!

Distrust washes over me.

How could someone still be alive?

And be dressed like that?!

"Please, I mean no harm." The person says while holding up their arms

I don't answer and only stare at them with contempt.

Only now I've noticed that I've dropped the book as the person is looking at it.

Have the spiders evolved this much? Or have I finally lost my mind?

I swallow, scared of what to do next.

The thing before me tries to comfort me: "I'm not real."

"What... does that... mean?" I ask, having difficulty speaking, hurting my throat in the process of creating words.

The creature nods: "I'm imaginary. I'm simply something you made up. An Imaginary friend if you will."

Friend...?

What did that mean again?

Something about that word makes me agitated.

Something about that word makes me angry.

Something about that word makes me want to cry.

Something about that word makes me want to scream...

"Don't... You aren't that... I don't think..." I mumble.

They smile at me: "Well then, I'm Quiller. You may call me that or just mister or... something else, if my name is too difficult."

He looks at me as if waiting for an answer, but I don't.

"So what is your name?"

I think.

I think deeply.

At first I'm not sure what he means by the word 'name'.

Then a bad memory fills my head and just in time I'm able to shake it away.

It's been a long time since I had something of a name.

I remember that I was called something too, it was normal back in the day.

Back when there were still other people in the world.

I press my hand against my chest "...Don." I whisper: "I was called... that... I think."

Quiller gives me another smile: "That's a wonderful name, nice to make your acquaintance." He stretches out a hand and I stare at it.

"You... are supposed to shake it..." He says as he scratches the back of his neck with his other hand.

"Shake? But won't... it go through?"

His expression turns to one of pain: "Yeah, sorry. You're right." He takes back his hand.

I take the book from the ground.

"That looks interesting." He sounds surprised.

"I found it, it's mine." For some reason I'm clutching the heavy object against my chest as if it's my long lost treasure. Honestly I don't know why. But it feels like... I have to keep it with me.

"So you're going to read it?"

I skim through the pages, they're made of paper.

"It...would make for a good fire-starter."

Quiller's expression turns horrified: "Wait, no! You can't do that!"

"Why?"

"It holds someone's memory!"

"Memory?"

"Yes, every book is written by someone. They write it with their love, their hate, their life, their passion, their dreams. Never take another person's work too light."

Gibberish he seems to speak.

"Are you... one of them?" I ask nudging back somewhere.

He sighs: "No, of course not. Have I been trying to eat you since I met you?"

I just stare at him confused.

He takes another look at the book: "I... think I know that book."

I look at him questioningly.

"Maybe you should try to read it, it has a pretty good story. You can read, yes?"

"I'm able to read ingredients from food."

He laughs awkwardly: "Well that's a start..."

Without much care I put the book in my backpack and I continue my search.

It feels strange to have someone that at least seems to be real and walking close by, especially since he doesn't seem to be hostile in any way shape or form. What most things are.

I will keep a close eye on him, I don't really understand why I'm seeing him and I don't have another person like me here to check if I'm really making it all up in my mind.

It really does seem like the most reality-based explanation right now, I've been alone for a long time now.

I vaguely remember a story about someone befriending an object to stay sane after being alone for a very long time. It is said to be normal when someone is lonely.

But even so, is that really the case right now?

While scouting out the area, it suddenly starts to rain outside.

I guess I have no other choice but to stay the night.

As we walk into the inside part of the station I suddenly notice a couple of them, standing closely to the rooms that once had probably been stores.

Their bodies made of a combination of rotting flesh, metal wiring and some of them have something like mos growing over their heads and shoulders. Water slowly dripping from their horrible monsterous bodies.

Luckily they're standing far away, staring into space and not having noticed me yet.

Sometimes they shake in the strange way they usually do and return to staring.

It reminds me a bit of how they used to be when all of this started, back then they were out to kill every last human. Back then they rarely stood this still.

I guess since most people have died, they don't have much to do anymore, so staring is probably the only thing they can do.

Staring and standing.

It makes me wonder if they think...

No, that can't be true.

Monsters like that must be unable to think, if they do it must be about devouring the innocent and weak.

"Hey."Quiller whispers: "You should probably head the other way, they don't look very nice."

They don't look very nice? Is he oblivious to what happened? Does he not know?

Didn't he mention knowing of it before though? Well I should ask him later.

Now is not the time.

I tiptoe away from the creatures, making sure not to make a single sound.

When it all went down, I taught myself a new way of walking which was a lot quieter than how I used to.

Now it's second nature to me, I don't walk any other way now.

Well, okay, if I have to run, I run and sound doesn't really matter if there is something out there that wants to rip you apart.

I take the stairs to the second floor, scanning my surroundings thoroughly.

More old, empty shops and a lookout onto the platforms and surrounding area.

"Do you think I could go further up?" I ask the strangely clothed man.

"Well yeah, this building is old and even has a clock-tower. Maybe we should try getting in there?"

I nod approving, maybe he might be useful after all.

It doesn't take long for us to find a small hidden passageway.

"It should be through here." Quiller says to me.

I look at the narrow door in the ceiling and shake my head.

I hate small spaces, I would rather get there by climbing from the outside.

I look outside but am only greeted by the heavy rainfall, it's almost like the clouds are laughing at me.

Laughing at the fact that I'm scared.

And I hate them for it.

Next chapter:

Do you remember?

I hope you all had a great christmas!!

Here is another short horror story I wrote recently, that I thought to be fitting:)

Word count: 362

TW: horror

Do you remember?

The falling snow?

The warmth of the fire?

The kind smile on your mother's face?

That day we met... do you remember?

That day, many, many years ago.

When you came by and we became fast friends.

You were so kind.

I didn't have any friends, but you wanted to be mine.

I have always really appreciated that from you...

Your kindness.

Your openness to whomever, whatever...

Remember when we first played outside together?

The crunching of freshly fallen snow underneath our feet.

The woods surrounding your house, slowly getting darker and darker.

That day we completely lost track of time.

That day was truly amazing.

Remember that day when there was a snowstorm outside?

We couldn't play outside, so we sat by the warm fire in the living room.

We played with your toys and told each other stories.

I still remember all of them.

Do you?

Do you remember our first sleepover?

We talked and talked, until your mother came to your room, telling us to be quiet.

At night it would start storming and you tried to keep me from getting scared.

So warm, so gentle.

But now... you've changed.

You've... gone cold in a way.

Still breathing, yes, but you feel like a colder person now.

Do you even remember who you used to be? What you used to be like?

Has it really been that long?

Is there something I should remember?

When you just looked at me, you made a face like you were looking at vermin.

Remember the crunching of snow, remember the crackling of the fire, remember our laughter from those many, many days gone by.

I guess it's time.

Nothing else to be done other than this.

If I leave you like this...

You're going to be wasting away.

You're going to rot.

You're going bad.

You'll be spoiled before long.

I guess to you I might not even be vermin, I honestly think more that you might see me as a monster.

I'm different from you.

I scare you.

I scared your family.

Well I might be truly a monster to your kind.

Hiding in the shadows.

Eating creatures that are still alive.

Drinking their blood.

Most of your kind don't do that... right?

Or perhaps they do in some other way?

Do you remember?

Because I don't.

My head is too busy thinking.

Thinking about how I will stop playing with my food.

Yes, you guessed right.

You are.

Because if I don't... you'll expire.