The Book

If I could travel back in time

This is a short horror story I wrote.

TW: Gore, psychological horror

If I could travel back in time, I would have changed a lot of things.

Would you?

I wouldn't just do better at everything or undo certain mistakes, I would probably become your friend.

Do you remember, when we were little, that we actually lived quite close to each other? Y'know when you're born here you just don't seem willing to leave. All the locals have this problem.

Well anyway, your house was just a couple of streets away from mine.

Back then we even went to the same kindergarten, we would play in the sandbox together from time to time. You were almost always the quiet one in class, I was the only one wanting to interact with you.

Even with all that I wish I had gotten to know you better.

Our parents could have been such good friends, they share some of the same interests, don't they?

We could go anywhere we wanted together, maybe catch a movie or go swimming?

I know you liked those things back then.

I wish we still had that time.

We didn't go to the same elementary school, but if I could go back, I would have made sure we went together.

You were really into board games back then, right? Did you like chess? A classic, I know. I totally suck at it, but I think that game fits you. We still could have played it together.

Do you remember around that time my aunt's dog went missing, we never found out what happened to him. And that wasn't the only missing animal from around that time.

I wish I could go back, since around that time I could still change the outcome.

We did have junior and high school together.

You got bullied around this time, you didn't accept help from anyone and I never got close to you. I'm sorry.

If I had just one chance to go back, I would show you that the world is still filled with kind people who love to help others. We would have gone to the same classes, have the same boring teachers and maybe break some rules for fun. We could do our internships together or work at the same place.

But it's too late now.

After school I would take you traveling, to see the world. Like I did before, just not with you.

If you wanted to go to a city, we could maybe go to London or even Paris. Not sure where we would get the money, but if I time traveled I could probably win us a lottery or something.

Maybe you prefer nature, then we could visit Canada or Iceland. I sure would have loved to go there someday. And you do seem more like the type to enjoy nature.

Anyway I'm sure we could have had a lot of fun.

So why... even if you don't know me...

We could start working for the same company, somewhere you feel at rest... at peace. No bullying, no annoying bosses that force their employees to work themselves half to death.

It might be boring to your standards, but I could make it more fun for you.

When you would feel down, I would make you feel better. If you would be sick, I would come visit you and make you soup.

I would do so much for you, just to make sure this wouldn't happen. We would have been the best of friends. We would be inseparable.

I try so hard to imagine you as a good person, as a good human being.

Like a good friend.

But it's just stupid.

I can't think of anything good about you.

I didn't know you back then, but now I do.

Imagining good things or fun situations with you, just feels awful.

I know I wasn't there for you in your darkest moments, but I never wronged you or hurt you.

So why?

Oh well, it doesn't matter.

It's just too late.

For you and for me.

I already suspected you for a while, even when the police didn't find enough evidence.

Well you sure did what I expected you to do. I don't know why I even went with you., but I went prepared.

Now I lie here, just like the others. With a bloody red neck tattoo and dirt in my face.

I don't feel anymore.

I don't see anymore.

My hands are like ice.

Just like them.

Just like you soon.

You were stressed this time.

I could feel it.

You weren't careful enough

I fought back, but even though I didn't survive I got evidence of your crime.

I also have people already looking for me as I lie here, staring empty at you shoveling more dirt to cover my ghostly pale body.

This never had to have happened.

Well I don't really care about what will happen to you anymore.

But I'm certain you will be found, you will be taken.

You will be put in a small, dark room. Darker than your soul.

You will spend your eternity there until we will come to pick you up.

Oh, just you wait until we get you...

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?"

When death visits

A Short horror story I wrote.

Word count: 889

TW: Death, ghosts

It's calm and quiet in my house.

So quiet has it never been before.

The silence is scaring me, making me feel all cold inside.

It makes me feel so lonely, even though it hasn't been so long since the last guest left.

I'm all alone in this giant mansion, I've tried everything, but escape seems to be impossible for me.

I'm stuck in the main hall.

I have tried every door, even upstairs. But to no avail, I guess I'm just stuck here until someone finds me.

Although, not every guest is a welcome one, of course.

After a while of trying everything that I could possibly do, including breaking down doors or walls (this failed horribly), I finally gave up.

So I took a seat on the stairs, in the middle of the big hall.

Fortunately I still have the candles giving me light, outside it is pitch black.

It is strange, even outside it seems to be quiet.

I have lived in this building my whole life and there has always been at least some sounds, like the creaking of old planks or the trees brushing against each other outside. But today it is different.

No sound, not a single noise. There is only silence.

Even though I live with more than just myself, no one seems to be here.

Something is very wrong here.

I close my eyes and start praying.

I am not even religious, but I really don't know what else I should do. Fortunately it helps me calm down a bit.

When I close my eyes, I feel as one with the house.

I can feel the rooms almost like they are my own limbs, I can feel everything inside, but there is no other living being. Not even the spiders in the cellar or the cat in the kitchen.

While in this praying state, I look in each and every room, looking for something or someone that could be useful to helping me escape this nightmare.

I am so used to this house, that I know every little crook and cranny like no one else.

I look at my bedroom, I look at the bathrooms, the old ballroom and yet I can't seem to notice anything outside.

All the doors are locked.

All of a sudden a strong wind from outside blows against the house, making it creak like never before and then the rain starts.

At first tapping softly, but changing rapidly in a storm. All this causes the chandelier to swing gently from right to left.

Shocked by the sudden explosion of sound, I bury my head in my hands.

How long has it been silent? I wonder.

How long have I been sitting here? On the stairs, doing nothing in the middle of this empty building?

And so I sit here silently, until I get used to all the sounds again, calming myself with empty thoughts.

I just listen.

I just listen to the wind and to the house.

To the heavy rain and the ancient wood.

To the chandelier moving.

At first I thought it was lightning, but now I know that is not what it sounds like.

It is a window. A window that shattered. The sounds of broken shards, flying across a dark, empty room.

Something is inside...

Something broke the glass...

It broke something, I couldn't.

Again I close my eyes and start praying, I can feel something moving around in the house.

It is not human. Nor is it an animal.

With every cold step it takes, my terror grows. I freeze up, unable to move.

WHAM!!!

A door slams open.

It didn't even need to touch the knob.

The invader leaves the path behind itself filled with cold, oh it is so cold...

It breaks, whatever is in its way.

I can feel my heart racing.

KKKRRRRRKKKKKK!!!

The other sound of a door screaming in pain while being broken and trampled.

The steps keep getting closer.

I can feel it.

I know everything about this place.

All the blood in my body turns to ice.

CRRRREAAAKKKKK!!!!

The loud noise is followed by a soft, almost unhearable thud of the falling lock.

I can't believe it, it just ripped it off the door completely.

Again without touching.

Why is this happening to me?

I squeeze my eyes shut. I don't want to see.

Another awful sound and I protect my ears with my hands.

No more, please no more!!

I don't want to hear it, I don't want to see it, I don't want to feel it...

But it doesn't matter, I can still feel every step it takes.

Getting closer and closer, in an inhuman speed.

I start to wonder if it is really walking, it might as well be floating.

Then it enters the great hall.

The room I'm in.

A cool wind blows out the candles, leaving me almost in complete darkness. The only light is that of the outside.

I don't want to look, I don't want to know.

Please don't make me!

Now the entire house has cooled down and the only slightly warm thing is my own breath, which is also cooling down rapidly.

It has stopped walking for a bit.

Determent I keep my eyes shut, holding my breath, acting like I am not there.

Maybe it won't see me.

Maybe it won't come for me.

But no, it is here for me and only me.

A cold, bony hand wraps itself around my shoulders, making me as cold as the house itself. As cold as it.

I still refuse to look, I don't want to see whatever nightmare is looking at me like I'm its friend.

The tears of fear on my cheeks have become ice crystals.

Death is here.

And it is here for me. 

The machine that brought the dead back to life

The continueation and final part of a story I wrote.

Word count: 2151

TW: Death and cursing

A sudden shock awakens Drew and he opens his eyes, only to find himself inside some sort of machine.

The space is small and he almost can't move anything, turning around is out of the question.

Luckily since he's used to working in cramped spaces, he's able to keep himself calm.

His head seems to be in a fog, he doesn't remember what happened to get him inside the big object.

Carefully he tries to move his arms, but not much happens, he is completely confined within the machine.

After a while of trying not to panic Drew hears a strange mechanical hissing sound.

It's the door.

The door is opening.

In the opening stands a man in rags with a zombie-like look on his face, suddenly he grabs Drew by his arm and hisses in his ear: "Act like the rest or you'll be dead."

At first Drew doesn't understand at all, but as he looks around he sees in the dark many people moving around almost robotically.

All of the people are working.

Drew quickly looks back at the machine he came from.

It takes a second, but then it dawns at him...

He had been revived.

Trying to remain calm he follows the man before him, trying to take the same slow dead steps.

He thinks of Clara, who must be grieving terribly right now. The reason for him being here must be because she wasn't able to pay for the revival fee.

The day or perhaps the night, there's really no way to know, starts horribly.

People looking like old corpses are walking like slaves with other machines keeping watch if they're working good enough.

Drew is forced to work on broken machinery without break, being monitored almost non-stop.

Thankfully he does quite well, since he has been chosen to do a job he had done last he had been awake.

As the moment finally arrives that the security weakens and no camera's look at Drew, he is completely exhausted.

He feels a hand on his shoulder, it's the man that had warned him before.

"Hey buddy, you gotta keep going, if you don't want to die that is."

"What is this? Why are they doing this?" Drew almost begs the man to answer his questions.

"Once pronounced dead, your rights as a human being are lost. You will be nothing more than an object, a slave. We are supposed to come in here as mindless, but some of us, like you and me, come with one still intact."

"This is a different machine than the one used on the commercials, right?"

The strange man laughs: "Of course, you think people would write a good review if they were to wake up in a dump like this? This place is for those that are too poor or have relatives that don't want them anymore, but the people here are chosen because of having certain skills."

"Skills? Do the mindless even possess those?"

"Bare fractions, but that's all they need. A person's build can also go a long way."

As the monitors return they quickly get back to their work again and after a while Drew learns that the dead down here really don't get any rest.

Still he tries his best, causing him to almost faint.

Slowly it gets even darker before his eyes and he feels himself stagger and the ground seems to be dragging him closer.

Just in time, the strange man pulls him up and hands him something.

"Get up buddy, if you fall now, we're both fucked."

Drew takes the object closer to his face and recognizes it as old bread.

He takes a bite and swallows.

It's absolutely disgusting, but it helps him to continue again.

"How long have you been here?" Drew asks as they have a moment to talk.

"Not so long either."

"Then do you know how you died?"

"Not sure..." The man hesitates for a moment: "But from what I heard, this damned company sometimes picks people and sends others after them to kill them. I believe that at least happened to you."

"What, why?"

"You can't see it right now, but you had a really big scar on your back. They don't patch us up as good as the people who pay for it."

Drew doesn't remember what happened, one moment he had been working and the other he had woken up inside the machine. This information of him possibly being murdered strikes him hard.

"I need to get out of here." He mumbles.

"Don't we all?"

"If I don't they might kill her too."

"You got someone, buddy?"

"My wife, she works here."

"On the bottom I presume?"

"Yeah..."

"Well that explains it then."

"What do you mean?"

"Why were you picked?"

"Do you mean to say that they screened everything about her? And all the people in her life?"

"Yeah..."

Drew firmly places a hand on the man's shoulder: "Just how do you know all this information?"

"Buddy, let go."

"I want to know!"

"Buddy, you're hurting me."

"Just answer me, please!"

The man sighs: "I used to work at the top. I was one of those fuckers at the top. One that could see the sun rise, one that could see above the smog."

"Then why are you here?"

"You really want to know everything, don't you?"

Drew grips the strangers shoulder even harder.

"Ouch! Damnit, I fucked up you know! I didn't agree to their shit!"

Drew lets the man go.

"Thank you." He says annoyed.

"I'm going to get out of here." Drew says while picking up something he things that might be useful as a weapon.

"You're going to get yourself killed going like that."

"Better than dying here. If you want me to survive, maybe you could help."

Defeated, the man sighs: "Fine, then I will."

"So what are we going to do?" Drew asks, some of his old energy returning.

"We have to carefully follow the red lights."

Both drop their work and start their plan to escape.

It doesn't take long for an alarm to sound, the camera's must have noticed that they've left.

Thus the two start running.

As strange looking robots get closer and closer the two men finally reach a door, the strange man opens it and pushes Drew through it.

"You better get her to safety, buddy." The man says and closes the door immediately.

For a moment Drew stands unable to do anything, he had no time to thank the man before and now it was too late.

As his mind finally starts to process everything he decides that he can't do it all alone.

When he rushes outside the building, he notices that it is morning.

But even though the sun is out, seeing it through the thick smog is difficult.

People rush past him to go to work, like none know of what takes place beneath the big company that grants wishes.

Drew hurries home, but as he arrives, notices that Clara has already left for work. He stops for a moment to see hate mail on the floor.

The mail must have been sent by those that knew about his passing.

Drew picks them up and throws them in the trash, might be nice for starting a fire later.

Maybe he can get help at the workshop?

He runs to the place he worked just before he died.

The door is closed and gravity has been sprayed all over the walls.

Vile words are written on the walls, did the boss take Clara's side?

Drew tries to open the door, but it seems to be locked.

He knocks.

No answer.

He knocks again, this time louder.

Then the door finally opens, the boss appears, at first he doesn't notice and wants to ask if he came to harass him, but then he looks up and recognizes Drew.

He takes his arm and almost drags him inside.

"Drew? How can that be you? You look horrible."

Drew starts to explain everything that he knows.

It takes a while, making Drew tumble over his words, trying to get it all out at the same time.

When he finally finishes he says: "So I have to go get her now!"

"Drew, you just came back to life. Please, be careful."

"I'm sorry sir, but I can't, they probably already know that I was the one who left after all. I can't stay here too long. They might even come after you if they know that you kept me here for a while. You sided with Clara, didn't you?"

The older man on the other side of the table sighs in despair and old grief: "Don't let yourself get killed again, son."

The boss turns around to see if he can find Drew something to use as a weapon, but as he hears the front door open and close again, he knows that it is too late.

Drew finally reaches the building again, trying to rush and hide at the same time to get inside quickly and efficiently.

People do tend to stare at him, probably because of old clothes and the fact that even though he's been revived, he still doesn't look much different from a corpse. Possibly a side-effect by the machine at the bottom.

Drew opens door after door to find the room in which his beloved should be working.

A lady walks up to him, asking: "Sir can I help you?" She looks like a normal employee.

"Clara, have you seen her?"

She shakes her head: "Not since she was sent downstairs."

Drew glances at an old staircase that is mostly dark, too dark to see the floor below it.

"Thanks." He mumbles and continues down further.

He rips open a door not knowing if it's the right one.

It shows a big grey room, lighted by white ceiling lights and the many blue screens on the many desks.

At a glance some of the people here look close to dying themselves.

But something else is wrong with the room.

Something very wrong.

Perhaps it looks too clean?

Drew starts to look around, looking for Clara.

The illusion gets shattered the moment Drew accidently pushes a button.

A short glitch appears, like a flash all disappears.

The room is not clean at all, there is even a small layer of water covering the ground.

Drew can see something that looks like a bridge without handrails and on it he sees her.

"Clara!!" He yells at his beloved: "Clara, get away from there!" Blindly he rushes towards her, but it is too late.

She falls, plunging into the murky water that embraces her with its cold deepness.

Without a second of hesitation Drew jumps after her, uncaring of the coldness of the water.

He sinks after her, but loses sight of her quickly.

As he finally reaches what he believes to be the bottom, he frantically searches for her.

With his hands he feels around, but feels a strange object lying underneath his feet.

Unable to hold his breath any longer he swims to the surface and climbs onto the platform.

Even though the illusion is gone, there are still people typing away at the computers, still working even though they should be able to see the real working conditions.

Drew runs up to one of them and pulls them close: "Where are the lights?! Any lights, flashlights, I don't care!"

Panic has wrapped its claws around the desperate man's throat, almost choking him, as is to kill him again.

Unfortunately the yelling doesn't help getting the worker out of his state, only staring blankly at Drew or perhaps through him, unable to see him at all.

Angry Drew tosses the worker aside and starts searching on his own again, quickly opening random drawers without closing them.

As he wants to kick something a hand gets placed on his shoulder: "Here son, use this."

It's the boss of the workshop, handing him an old flashlight, he must have come after him.

Drew takes it saying a quick thanks and uses a useless fire-extinguisher to sink faster to the bottom.

The old flashlight luckily seems to work underwater, it doesn't show much, but it does so for the bare minimum.

As Drew reaches what he believes to be the bottom, he quickly puts his hand before his mouth to stop himself from choking on the water trying to invade his lungs.

This is not the bottom at all.

As Drew slowly moves the flashlight to look around he slowly shines it on many corpses that lie around.

Some new, some almost entirely bones.

It's a pile.

So many people.

And if Drew isn't fast enough, Clara will join them forever.

Slower than he wants to he swims closely to the bodies, trying his best to find his beloved, made worse by the look of all the dead down there.

The water is still murky, but Drew has an idea of where Clara could be.

Soon he finds himself at a deeper hole, one with less bodies.

Using the fire-extinguisher he tries to get to the botom quicker.

.

.

.

Then he finally finds her.

She seems almost deadly pale, almost like she has already joined those deep down.

Swiftly he takes her in his arms and lets go of the heavy object, causing them to slowly rise up again.

As they finally reach the surface, Drew's boss is already awaiting them helping them up.

"Son, what took you so long?"

Drew, completely out of breath, tries to explain: "All... are... all are dead... down there..."

"What do you mean?"

Drew shakes his head: "Please... please, save her."

Clara has gone awfully cold and doesn't seem to be breathing anymore.

Both men feel at a loss, until at the same time they know one way to get her back again.

The mirror room

This is another short horror story I wrote a little while ago.

I hope you like it.

This time it's much more of a ghost story:)

Word count: 1495

TW: Ghosts

With the soft flickering light of my candle I look upon the dark oaken wood door in front of me, regretting my willingness to do something this stupid.

It is already dark outside, so the only light in the whole mansion is that of time.

I'm staying over at my nieces place, she recently moved here in this old mansion. Our family is quite wealthy, so this isn't anything too strange for us.

I arrived this morning by carriage, the road was too rigid for an automobile. With a full suitcase in hand, I was greeted by my relatives. I am staying here for a week after all.

My niece and I spend the whole day looking at every nook and cranny of the old mansion. It was definitely built by some very rich people and most likely during the renaissance. Even so the condition it was in was immaculate like it was dust proof, or perhaps they just happen to have a witch or wizard as their cleaner.

I was shown around and told stories about each room, but there was one room my niece really wanted to show me. The room she said was magical.

The mirror room.

Carefully I open the old door with my still free hand, trying to not make any noise and accidentally wake up my uncle and aunt. They can be quite strict and if I get found out we will surely be punished, though my niece probably more than me. But still I don't want her to get into trouble and it was me who accepted her challenge.

When the door gently creaks open, a soft breeze blows out my candle.

That's strange.

The windows are supposed to be closed here, in fear of thieves and burglars.

I'm sure my uncle closed them before.

How did they open?

I enter the room and as I gently close the door behind me, it gives the same soft creek, although in reverse this time.

My niece was right, even at night this is the room with the most light, not by candle of course, but by the stars outside. They shine into the many mirrors, reflecting the tiny lights, creating this ghostly light. I know she said magical, but I find it somewhat unsettling, especially the fact that all the windows have been opened somehow.

As I cautiously walk towards the first window to close it, I look at the ceiling. It has been beautifully ornamented by a painting of the stars and small renaissance angels. With the soft echoing of my footsteps behind me on the black and white tiled floor I think to myself: this building is almost a half-palace.

During the day when my niece showed me this room, she was very excited and told me all sorts of stories about it. Way too fast, honestly, I could only understand the part of it that it may or may not have been a ballroom once and that many lavish parties have been thrown here. When she first told me that this was her favorite place in the whole mansion I honestly thought that it might be because she could see herself in the mirror. She is rather prideful of her appearance, taking ages to get ready.

She told me about the music she sometimes hears from this room and the talking of many merry people. Although when she enters the room, no one is there.

I don't get scared easily and am secretly also a bit curious, so she decided that it would be my job to investigate.

I look around.

I think I can see why now, the reason why this is her favorite room.

It is a clear night, the silver moon shines almost as bright as the sun and I can see thousands of stars sparkling the night sky with its colorful dust.

All of the sky's wonders let this silver, grey light into the room, creating a hauntingly beautiful place. Much, very much different from the one during the day.

The mirrors do their part, making the room look so much bigger than it actually is.

As I look around, the only other person I can see is my own reflections in the mirrors. Small, pale, almost dead because of the shadow the light creates on my face.

Carefully I walk towards the windows, all of them are wide open. Like they are inviting something in and the moon is inviting something out. Me?

Should I really be here?

At this time?

As quietly as possible I close the windows one by one.

When I am closing the last one... I hear something.

Whispering.

Footsteps.

It is behind me.

Quickly I turn around to see... no one.

Not my uncle or my aunt.

Not my niece trying to prank me.

Something is wrong, I am missing one other.

.

.

.

I am missing.

My reflection is not there.

It starts getting colder.

It turns my breath into small silver clouds.

I rub my hands together for warmth, but I can't get much out of it.

Since the last window is not completely closed yet, I turn around and close it fast with a soft THUD.

Again there is the sound of whispers behind me, closer this time. Like they are just a couple of steps away.

Swiftly I turn around again, just to be greeted by the empty mirrors again.

"Is someone there?" I ask, instantly regretting it.

There shouldn't be anyone.

I am alone.

I am really alone.

There is no one else.

Just me in this empty room.

Calming myself doesn't seem to work that well.

All of a sudden all the windows open and smash closed in unison.

Startled, I run towards the entrance, the old oak door.

I try to open the door, but it is locked.

As I panic I start pounding on the door and calling for my aunt and uncle like crazy.

No answer, everyone is asleep of course.

No one can hear me.

No one can help me.

The light in the room starts acting weird and I look up.

It is coming from the ceiling now, all the stars are glowing.

It is like it took the light from outside, since there is no light coming from outside anymore. Just pitch black darkness.

Even the moon has gone.

Those are not the only things that are wrong.

The angels on the ceiling.

They are watching me.

Following me with their eyes.

As I turn towards the mirrors, there is one with the moon still reflected in it.

Not knowing what to do I slowly walk towards it, preparing myself for anything that might jump at me.

Nothing seems to happen for a long time and I decide that it is safe enough for me to check the mirror.

Gently I place my palm against the cold surface.

It is getting even colder now, my own body feels like stone.

Then a shadow passes in the mirror... or did I just imagine it?

No I didn't.

They really are there. They are with many and I can't predict their next move. There is one for each mirror.

Wait, where is the rest of the room?

I am only surrounded by mirrors.

No windows.

No door.

Just me and the shadows from the mirrors.

The shadows have somewhat the shape of human beings, but just not right. All seem to be cloaked.

Then they float out of their mirrors.

I am surrounded.

As they get closer, my panic grows.

Closer.

Closer.

Closer.

Using my candle without a flame as a weapon I try to escape.

But they keep coming.

As I try to hit them it just goes right through.

I hit.

I kick.

I scream.

They won't let go.

One of them starts getting really close to my face.

I can see it.

The ash grey skin.

The holes for eyes and mouth are much too big.

The eyes and mouth are filled with an endless abyss.

Still I keep on fighting.

They take me by my arms and legs.

Then my throat.

I scream until I can't anymore.

Until it is so squeezed shut, I can't even breathe.

They lift me up and I can see more of their inhuman faces.

Closer.

Closer.

Without stopping.

What do they want from me?

My vision gets overrun with dark spots.

Is this the end?

The strength in my arms is gone, I can't hit anymore.

Help...

The strength in my legs is gone, fighting is impossible now.

Please, someone help me!

Then as if by magic a violin starts playing on the other side of the room.

Unlike before the shadows now gently place me on the cold floor.

I can breathe again.

Gasping for air and shivering from the cold and fear, I quickly get up.

My head is pounding and so is my heart.

The stars on the ceiling start shining brighter, chasing away the dark shadows and brightening up the room like a lamp would.

As I look at my surroundings, I see that the shadows from before are now gone.

Instead there are a lot of festively dressed people, all of them are wearing masks.

The violin is still playing.

The sound of the instrument is a bit more livelier than before.

One of the masked people approaches me.

A girl around the same age as me.

"I'm sorry, we don't get visitors that often. They aren't used to it." She says in a soft voice.

She smiles at me, but I can't see if her eyes do.

Slowly, as if trying not to scare me, the girl stretches out her hand to me.

"Would you like to dance with me?"

Book of the apocalypse - chapter 2

Chapter 2 - A place to rest

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

Word count: 801

Previous chapter:

"C'ome on! I even checked it for you, it should be safe enough."

"How can I... be sure of what... lies beyond if you... are... imaginary?"

Defeated, he sighs.

We have been arguing for a while now and the rain outside hasn't stopped at all.

"I'm going to...one of the stores... usually they have a room... in the back that can be... locked." Old words slowly enter my mind. I guess I didn't forget everything.

"But the clock tower has a better view, you can be certain of your surroundings and make better plans for when the rain stops!"

"Quiller... I am not going in there-!"

Quickly I place my hand in front of my mouth and stop talking.

I must have yelled too loud, because I hear something approaching us.

Something dragging.

Another walking faster.

Shit!

Taking out just one is already quite the feat, two might be impossible, especially in such a confined space.

I've lived like this for years, but only thanks to knowing when to run and when to fight.

After all... they aren't a lot like zombies from old moving pictures.

And it certainly wasn't a virus that caught them.

Not a virus any human or animal could have gotten.

Quickly and quietly I hide behind a corner.

I see the two- no... four!

There's four of them!

Goddammit!

They're still scanning their surroundings.

I just hope they don't-

The one that seems to be the leader looks straight at me, making a strange noise.

Quiller is standing by the door to the tower: "I think this really is our safest bet."

"You... you asshole, you knew didn't you?! You planned for this to happen!"

I don't look at his face, I don't want to look at it.

Wow, betrayed even by an imaginary fiend.

I hold my spear in a way to protect myself as one of them lunges at me.

Before I know it I'm surrounded.

Their half decaying flesh, half robotic faces look hungry at me.

"You assholes fight like... like bitches!" I yell at them, knowing full well the futility of it. The same strange words I recognize as curses leave my mouth one after another.

How strange... but it feels right.

Trying to give myself an escape route I slice off an arm from one of the creatures.

With a sloshy thud it falls onto the floor and rolls away.

Almost immediately a new arm starts to grow, one not made of flesh... but of some kind of metal.

A dark liquid spills onto the floor, smelling like a combination of something rotting and machine oil.

As I try to slice the new one off, I'm only able to dent it a little bit.

I feel my hope sink.

"I guess I have no choice but to use 'that'..."

I take a small machine from one of the pockets in my belt.

It's still a work in progress, but this is better than nothing.

Do I really have to use my piece of hard-work here?

Well... I guess it beats dying.

In a swift movement I press a button and make it stick to one of my attackers' heads.

I'm sorry...

The creature starts to scream.

A scream sounding more and more like that of a human it once was.

I'm sorry...

The others get alerted by the sound and start attacking their once fellow creature.

I hate to do this, but a better decoy doesn't exist.

Even if the creature had become fully human again, it would have died in an instant.

I haven't found anything against that yet.

Quickly and quietly I rush to Quiller.

I give him a glare, saying: 'Fine... I will do it your way asshole!' and get myself through the small door in the ceiling.

He seems to be slightly frightened by my cursing.

It's a good thing I've gotten used to doing parkour.

Jumping from one wall to the other and climbing up is nothing.

I breathe a sigh of relief as I notice that it doesn't end in a small space to crawl through.

I might have gone right back out if that was the case.

It's open.

I close the small door behind me, I really don't want those creatures getting up here and then I turn my flashlight on to look around.

The room is mostly empty, except for the layer of dust and an old couch.

The clock is the window, but it has gotten so dirty thanks to the dust, seeing through it is nearly impossible.

I scan through the room with the light in my hand, I really hope there is nothing up here.

There is a dusty, old couch in the middle and the only source of light is coming from the dirty clock, that's also somewhat of a window.

Luckily there is no one here.

"Hey, are you okay?" Quiller asks, looking rather worried: "You didn't get bit, right?"

I shake my head, I better not answer him right now.

Those creatures one floor below us, worry me.

I carefully walk over to the couch.

Maybe now is the best time to start reading that book.

I take the old object out of my bag and open it.

Dreamselling

My most recent short horror story.

Word count: 748

TW: Existential horror/dread

To sell your dream.

Dreamselling

Sold dreams

Someone decides their dreams impossible and sells them to someone without dreams

"I've had it!" I yell: "Mine is just simply unachievable!"

My colleague laughs: "Some dreams just are that way, many people here sell them, here there's no need for them anyway. Dreams just get in the way of getting finished."

We're sitting inside the grey lunch room of our workplace.

I turn to him and lean back: "Did you sell yours?"

A proud smile crosses his face: "Of course I did, daydreaming doesn't get you anywhere and I earned money with it too!"

I shake my head: "I don't think that it's the right thing to do."

"Why not?" He looks surprised.

A colourful memory comes back to me, one from very long ago, when I was still a child. I was playing in the green grass of my grandmother's garden. In both the bright yellow of the sun and the shade of an old tree from which the pink leaves almost seemed to glow.

That day so many years ago I told her my dream, the one I still hold to this day.

"That is such a wonderful dream, don't ever give up on it okay?" My grandmother told me after listening to it. I was so happy to hear those words, she wanted me to achieve that dream.

"So, why haven't you sold it yet?" My colleague asks again, taking me out of the blissful memory.

I shrug.

He continues: "If you do, you don't ever have to complain about it anymore. Life is so much lighter and happier without it."

"I know, I know... Live in the moment, right?"

He nods proudly: "I knew you would come to understand it."

The bell buzzes, letting us know that it's time to go back to work.

Back in my spot I think back about the conversation, should I do it? Should I not do it?

Honestly the dream hurts, I'm far from the place where I truly want to be.

As I get back to my apartment I find a bill lying on the floor by the door.

Damn, I guess I'll be losing a big chunk of my loan again.

Hesitantly I open the letter and look pained towards the many numbers.

Will I have enough to escape during the holiday? Or not?

I let out a long sigh and head to bed.

Closing my eyes I only find nightmares to haunt me, to taunt me.

This dream of mine is really that bothersome... isn't it?

After another day of work I feel more and more overwhelmed. Should I make the appointment? Would that bring happiness in my life?

It takes a while before I finally decide to go through with it...

"Please." The doctor gestures towards the bed and I lie down on it.

He notices that I'm a bit hesitant: "Don't worry, you will only come out a better person." He tells me in his kind voice.

I nod in response and the doctor pushes the bed with me on it into the machine.

There really is no going back now.

By the memory of my grandmother's words I start to quietly sob.

I'm sorry grandma, I'm really sorry, but I can't live with such an unachievable dream. Only to see others that have already achieved and others that already live that life that I want. It's better for me to leave it behind, to burn it, to let it be eaten by the flames. To leave it for another with a better chance.

The following years I work hard, get promoted multiple times and climb into the highest ranks. It's not because I want to go there, it's just because I don't care. Once you do something good enough you get faster at it too.

A colourful scene appears before me once again, it has been so long and yet in a way it also seems to have the same dull and grey look as the rest of the world.

Do I remember it correctly?

This is what I originally wanted, right?

Why do I feel so empty?

I've achieved that what I once dreamed of.

Oh, right... It's because I sold it... right?

I don't dream of this anymore, so it's simply useless.

It doesn't bring me happiness.

It doesn't bring me joy.

Because I left it behind.

I left it for another. Something better with quicker satisfaction.

Why did I even decide to sell it in the first place?

I feel strange.

Is that the feeling of regret?

This thick, slowly slithering snake, showing me the emptiness of my heart.

Was it really just a dream that I sold? Or was it more than that?

Was the money that I received from it really worth it?

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 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

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 :)