In The Rain

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 not-so-genius detective

I recently decided to challenge myself to write a non-horror short story.

This is my first time attempting to write a story that is supposed to be funny.

When I told my family about this they asked me if I was sick...

Without any further ado, I would love to hear what people think of this attempt at a comedic story:)

Word count: 2076

TW: Profanity (Doesn't go much further than 'shit' though)

“And this is detective Jayden Falkenstein.”

My boss has his hand on one of the shoulders of some kid, while looking like a proud father.

“That’s your nephew isn’t it?” I remark.

The chief looks astonished: “Oh my, you’re already familiar with him?”

“No.” I answer honestly: “But I feel like there’s something you too have in common.”

The man laughs as if I was giving him a compliment: “Oh well, he’s actually a lot brighter than me.”

“You wouldn’t say.” I scan the child before me with my eyes, there’s just something… terribly annoying about him. His clothes are made of many bright colours that don’t go well together, making me believe that he might be color blind. He looks unprofessional and attracts way too much attention.

His face bears the expression of a terrified child trying to hide his fear, with a look of fake confidence that is way too easily shattered.

There’s just no way that he’s a detective.

“So, sir, is he going to work here with us? Like an intern or something?” Or is he here to be baby-sitted by one of us? I secretly add.

“Oh, no, no, no. We need my dear nephew here to help us solve something.”

“Is he good with computers?” The chief is old, maybe that’s the problem? Was an IT-guy too expensive?

“I told you before, he’s a detective.” The man’s face turns serious, he must have noticed that I’ve been having difficulty with believing him.

His nephew must really want to play detective, there’s no way he went to school for it. Let alone leave with diploma in hand.

“You two are about the same age, so I expect you two to get along.”

“Around the same age?” I ask dumbfounded. I know the chief is getting old, but does he really have such difficulty with discerning 15-year olds with those in their twenties? It’s just impossible, he doesn’t even look close. And his terrible sense of fashion…

That and I don’t believe he would even be allowed to take his first driving lessons, let alone be allowed to step inside a bar.

The kid smiles at me: “I’m twenty-five, you know. I heard that you’re two years older.”

What…?!

I shake my head: “You’re not allowed to lie to a police officer, show me your ID.” I gesture to him to hand it over.

“Officer Coldon!” The chief calls out to me in frustration.

But the ‘detective’ hands me something “Here.” he says in a kind tone.

I take the object not really taking it seriously, until the picture and text reaches my sight.

…

…

He really is…

I feel utterly flabbergasted and it takes me a bit to finally find my composure again. While double checking if the ID is real or not.

I cough: “So chief, what’s the plan?”

The man in question looks at me still slightly annoyed: “Well, we got a message from the art gallery asking for help. Someone is threatening to take down the building.”

“I see, have they had the thread on paper or via mail?”

“Paper. The author of the note mentioned something like ‘sneaking inside like a snake’.”

“Can I see it?” I unconsciously reach out, hoping for him to give it to me.

Instead the older man shakes his head: “It’s being analysed by the lab right now. And it’s almost time to go.”

“Already?” The detective asks pouting.

That really can’t be an adult…

Both me and Jaiden get sent back home to change into more formal wear.

I’m lucky that I live quite close by to the gallery itself, I can head straight to the building.

After quickly finding something I believe to be fitting for a guest, I leave my apartment behind and walk to the place the chief wants us to meet up.

It’s in a park close by, I see they were able to get a normal looking van.

Then the other thing that I notice…

As if someone had eaten rainbows and puked them back out…

I frown and try to look away from the almost glowing thing standing before me: “Hell no, you’re not getting in there dressed like that!”

Surprise, surprise… It’s Jaiden standing before me, dressed in a manner even a freezing and naked hobo wouldn’t want. That hobo would most likely prefer to die.

Unconventional, torture to the eye itself. That describes it at best. I can feel the shame… Yet he does not seem to show that at all.

He’s comfortable in that?!

Detective Falkenstein looks at me with a smirk: “Well you’re dressed way too fancy for someone just visiting a museum.”

The audacity.

Suddenly the chief pulls both of us by our collars: “Damnit, both of you, get changed!!”

Both are forced to change on the spot for more casual looking clothes.

As we enter the building I glare at my colleague that did get his way by secretly keeping his God awful looking shirt underneath, slightly better looking clothing.

The chief had decided that the two of us have to partner up. There are others that are doing the same, but are given different routes to walk.

“So, one ticket for an adult and one for a child?” The lady behind the counter asks, taking my thoughts of annoyance to another place.

“I-I’m sorry ma’am, could you repeat that?” I’m pretty sure I heard something wrong.

“One adult.” She nods towards me, speaking almost in slow motion: “And one child.” She nods to Jaiden.

Immediately I shake my head: “That’s a grown man.”

A mischievous smile crosses my colleagues face, one I don’t like the look of.

“Sorry ma’am, my dad is only joking.” He takes my arm and I do my best to resist the urge to slap it away.

The lady behind the counter smiles a little, though clearly with murderous intent when her eyes rest on me.

Then she turns back to Jaiden, a soft smile crosses her face: “Would you like to participate in the scavenger hunt?”

The idiot smiles brightly: “Yes please.”

We get the tickets and I hear the lady whisper to one of her colleagues: “He’s so polite, he really did not get that from his dad.”

The other nods, “Yeah, he probably has a much better mother.”

When we’re finally out of hearing range, I pull the detective closer to me in anger: “That’s illegal!” I whisper-yell: “With our job we need to set a good example!”

Jaiden smiles carefree: “We also aren’t allowed to stand out.”

I hate to admit it, but in a way, just a tiny bit, he has a point. I better talk it out with him later.

Or perhaps I should set him the good example.

Engrossed in the piece of paper that was handed to him earlier, he mumbles: “Hmmm… where should we go next?”

It really isn’t the time to go on a scavenger hunt.

We soon find ourselves inside a long hallway, the walls are neatly lined with many paintings each in slightly different colours and moods.

I can understand why people calls this true art, the way the emotions are showing, the dreams and ideas of their creators all come together in one-

“That one looks super ugly!” My colleague bursts out in a loud laughter.

I look at him threateningly, but he doesn’t seem to notice at all.

“That…” He points at it: “Is truly the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen. No one would want it on a t-shirt. They did call this art right? Is this the collection of the ugliest man-made squirts?”

“Jaiden!” I hiss his name at him to quiet him down, but it only seems to show him that I’m still here.

He turns to me, ignoring the emotions that I’m clearly showing and asks a question in an annoyingly casual way: “So, the scavenger hunt is asking me to give this one a name. I’m thinking of ‘barf in the barn’ or ‘shit cow exploding’…”

He’s asking me.

Damnit, how clueless can a person be?

I take a deep breath to calm myself down: “We should continue to the next.” I try to remind him. There’s no time to be loitering around here, we have a criminal to catch!

I cannot truly see what this painting means, but I bet it has something to do with the painter's hidden anger bursting out. I think to myself as we’ve entered another hallway and a painting has taken my attention.

“Ha, a six-year-old could do better.”

I’m a cop. I remind myself. Murder is a crime.

Though I need to repeat it multiple times in order for it really to seep into my mind.

Continuing on I suddenly notice someone in the crowd acting strange.

A man is staring at a painting, without moving or even blinking at all.

Is he even still breathing?

Carefully as to not get his attention I glance his way a couple of times.

Trying to concentrate, I think about what I should do.

Should I let my other colleagues in- and outside know?

Or should I-

Crunch…

Crunch……

The sound of someone eating right next to me takes me out of my train of thought.

Guess who it is…

Jaiden…

Again.

Yep. That’s right…

He’s eating a bag of chips.

I’m thinking of ripping the thing out of his hands, but he walks off just before I’m able to.

You’re not allowed to eat inside this part of the gallery! I want to yell, but he’s already stepping towards the man I’m suspicious of.

I can see him say something to the suspect and then hold up his bag of potato chips.

The suspect is taken out of his trance and smiles, accepting the offer and taking some of the chips from the bag.

The detective comes back to me: “You know officer Coldon, not everyone is a suspect. That man was simply entranced by the painting. It isn’t pretty, the painting, but to him it feels like something special.”

I would love to be allowed to hit this kid over the head.

I remain silent, trying to show in this way that I still don’t agree.

“We should go this way.”

“Why?” I ask.

Did he suddenly have a good idea?

“The scavenger hunt continues down that hall.”

I follow him, tired out by my own anger and frustration.

I want to be part of what saves this gallery, but now I’m unsure if I can really do it.

“This has to be it!” Jayden suddenly calls out.

“Please lower your voice…” I feel too tired to lecture him again.

He picks up a random looking, empty piece of paper.

“This piece of paper must have another message… like with invisible ink.”

I swear I’m done with this guy.

“There’s no way…” I say, knowing that it’s clearly bull.

Not paying attention, while taking a few steps back, he accidentally bumps into someone.

“Ah, I’m sorry.” He immediately apologizes.

I guess he does have basic manners.

“Don’t worry, it doesn't matter.” The man he walked into answers in a kind tone: “It still happens to me from time to time as well.”

“Still I’m really sorry.”

Are these two going to keep doing this or are they finally going to stop and move on?

We still have to catch someone.

“Oh right, sir, do you happen to have a lighter?” Jayden quickly asks: “I need it for the scavenger hunt.” He points at the piece of completely ordinary paper.

“Oh yeah, I have one.” The man starts digging through his pockets: “Please do return it to me.”

“Thank you.” My babysitting job answers politely.

Carefully he lets the small flame from the dark metal object lick the paper.

As his face turns sour he finally turns off the lighter.

The paper really was just a piece of random paper.

Before returning it, he takes a quick glance at the small object in his hand. For a moment it looks like something clicked inside his mind.

With a smile on his face he returns the lighter to its owner.

“Thank you for letting me borrow this. Unfortunately it seems like this isn’t part of the scavenger hunt.” He hangs his head down showing rather theatrically his frustration.

“I see, well kid, I hope you find it.” The man takes the lighter and calmly walks away.

As the man has gone around the corner, Jayden suddenly jumps and pulls my sleeve: “That’s him!” He stops himself just in time from yelling: “The snake mentioned in the letter, it’s on the lighter! His means of destroying this place is by fire.”

Too tired to struggle, I press against my hidden earpiece and call for backup, giving everyone the best description I can of the suspect.

As we’re finally called back, the chief tells us that our suspects fingerprints matched that of the letter that was sent.

But a better investigation and court will be held later to find out what really happened.

I glance at my colleague.

I guess he might have his charms, solving a case might not entirely be beyond him…

Though dumb luck did most of the job.

But I still can’t get over his horrible sense of fashion!

Book of the apocalypse - Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Farren - Book of the apocalypse

(This chapter has a different protagonist)

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

Word count: 1111

First chapter:

"Book of the apocalypse"

What is an apocalypse?

The dictionary will probably tell you something like:

Apocalypse

The complete destruction of the world or an event involving destruction or damage on a catastrophic scale.

Movies will probably talk mostly about zombie apocalypses in which the world has been taken over by flesh eating monsters.

But then I wonder...

Does there exist something like a quiet apocalypse?

Perhaps a personal apocalypse?

One in which life as we know it is destroyed for maybe even a single person.

Or perhaps it is the silent self-destruction of the world itself.

Slowly killing itself, wrapping itself in plastic until breathing becomes impossible.

Willingly suffocating itself.

Because it had always wished for death.

For silence.

For peace.

For the end.

For now you may call me Farren.

I believe that the world I live in is one of a silent apocalypse.

One in which humanity itself decides to extinguish their own flame.

A mind destroying apocalypse.

All the while acting as if nothing is wrong and everything is going great.

And perhaps it really does make some people happy.

Perhaps they want to see the end... and they might want to see it really soon.

My world is one of constant loneliness.

I'm surrounded by many people.

They walk past me without even batting an eye.

Well it's not like I am the one paying attention to them.

No, I'm just like them.

Isolated.

Alone.

Uncaring.

A cog in a machine that's killing itself off joyfully.

This story is about the apocalypse during a time of computers.

An apocalypse so silent no one notices.

And even those that do, try to ignore it.

To be born in a time like this truly seems unfair.

After all, I live in a world in which doing something else is seen as weird, insane or wrong.

Well then again, it's not like I care that much either.

I'm not brave, nor smart.

And rebelliousness is something that can be seen as the polar opposite of me.

Just like most, I work in this society like an ant.

An ant who does nothing else but what it's told.

There are moments though, moments in which I truly regret it all.

My life choices, my weaknesses, my birth.

If I had done this differently, then maybe I would have had a better position at my job.

Maybe if I had been less shy I could have made friends who would stay with me.

Maybe if I hadn't been born, the world wouldn't be this insufferable.

Well nothing I can change about it now, I too am stuck in my own personal bubble.

A friendless, lowly bubble.

Yet somehow still desperate enough to keep on surviving.

The sudden sound of my alarm clock awakens me from my daydreams.

Crap! If only I had paid better attention to the time, I might have finished more...

Well, again, nothing to be done about it.

I guess I just have to work harder tomorrow.

"Hey Farren!" A loud voice that immediately gives me shivers comes from behind me.

It's the manager of my floor.

Carefully I turn around, whilst trying to hide my trembling hand.

"Y-yes?"

Shit, I screwed up already.

"It's 'yes sir', for you."

Yes, he's pissed.

"Sorry s-sir."

He looks down at me almost like he sees before him not a human being, but instead a cockroach.

Or perhaps more something like dog poop.

Well, anyway, he doesn't try to hide the look of disgust on his face as he speaks to me, even keeping his distance to protect himself against the smell of the dog poop or the moving cockroach.

"You should know what this is going to be about."

His eyes stare threateningly into mine.

"Is this about yesterday, or..."

Honestly I have no clue, but it's better to guess than to admit it with him.

"Not just yesterday, lately Farren, lately."

"I should work faster...?"

God, I'm hopeless, especially now that fear has taken a hold of me.

Desperately I seek for an answer around me, while trying to avoid eye-contact.

"Like hell! You've been so slow lately, just what is your problem?!"

Thank God I guessed right.

"I-" I try, but he doesn't let me finish.

"No excuses, you should try to be more like Kathan. Great guy always on time at work and with his work."

"Kathan the intern?"

"So what, he does this a thousand times more efficiently than you."

Kathan is our unpaid intern, that's what I want to say followed by: of course he is better, because he literally works for free. But luckily I'm able to hold my tongue at the right time.

"I will do so, sir." I reply automatically, but it doesn't seem good enough for him.

He's always like this, belittling those he sees as lesser than him.

Makes me wonder if he talks like this to his wife and kids too.

"You know, I let you stay out of the goodness of my heart, even though you're older than most people I hire."

Bullshit, hearing that coming out of the mouth of a man at least twice my age sounds really weird.

Old? Yeah, to a teenager. I'm in my twenties, the manager is in his forties or fifties.

He just doesn't like me because I get paid almost as much as him, more than a sixteen-year old.

Also, he wasn't the person who hired me. It was our old CEO, who did care.

The floor manager continues his rant: "If you keep going like this, I will have no choice but to fire you."

I nod: "Yes sir, I understand."

Perhaps it's time for me to start looking for another job again.

Sucks, I've been working here for a couple of years now and even though the manager sucks, other things are okay.

Well...

I've avoided the bullying for now...

It's really stupid, when you enter the adult world, you learn how childish people can really be.

After his rant is finally finished, he lets me leave.

Kathan seems to have seen it all and wants to walk over to me, but I act as if I didn't notice and hurry out of the building.

I don't want to be pitied.

Exhausted, I take the train back home to my apartment.

It's a bit run-down, the building, but at least I have a place to sleep, shower and cook.

Even if all is just in two small rooms.

As I look outside I can see the dreary cityscape, reminding me how hopeless this world really is.

I drop myself on the couch (that's also my bed) and turn on the tv.

I watch video after video, mindlessly, not listening to anything.

Because in truth it really is just background noise to make my brain stop thinking unwanted thoughts.

After a while I look at the clock and notice that it's almost one in the morning.

I turn off the tv and fall asleep.

The loud noise of my morning alarm wakes me up again and I'm reminded that I haven't eaten since yesterday lunch.

Quickly I take a soda from the fridge and drink it.

The chance of me being late to work today is pretty high, so I rush out of the building without looking back.

My colleague

A short horror story I wrote a while ago:)

Word count: 929

It's loud and crowded in the office today.

I don't know why, but honestly I don't really care and just continue with my work.

Suddenly someone taps me on my shoulder and I look up.

It's Jimmy, one of my colleagues.

I quickly look away again, ignoring him and continuing my work.

"Hey, I want to talk to you about something."

"Sure."

He sighs, seemingly annoyed about my answer: "It's something I would rather discuss in private."

I look around to see the others working hard or talking loudly: "It doesn't matter, no one will hear you anyway. Everyone is too busy with their own things, they couldn't care less."

He turns his head away from me, making me unable to see how he is feeling.

"You're really not trying to hide it, huh?"

"Hiding?"

He scoffs: "That you aren't you."

Honestly his answer takes me by surprise, but I don't want to show him.

"What gave you that idea?" I ask him.

"I knew the original you, that's just a completely different person. Maybe even a different being..."

Annoyed, I look at him: "Seriously? How did I change then?"

"You used to always be very friendly, I knew you really well. We knew each other from high school, but suddenly you're gone for a month and come back like this."

Part of me gets what he is talking about, but the other part of me is just angry that he even came to ask me about this matter.

"You sound like you want something from me. What is it?"

"I want my friend back."

I shake my head and whisper: "That's impossible."

Jimmy looks at me with a face as if he is about to start crying: "If you don't tell me the truth... I will tell everyone." He suddenly says rather certain of himself: "I even have evidence."

I can't bear to look at him and just mumble back to him: "Fine, after work... I will show you."

After work is finally finished I get my stuff and take my coat to leave.

I'm stopped by Jimmy: "We're going together, remember?"

"Don't worry, I didn't forget." I grumble without looking up at him.

We walk out of the building, I don't look up, but can see snow falling slowly. There isn't much yet, so the buses should still drive normally.

"Where are we going?" Jimmy asks curiously and even a little anxious.

"To the place where you will get your answer."

It might be mean, but I really have to take him there.

We walk to a nearby bus stop, deserted by all of the living.

Might as well continue our conversation: "So, by 'other being' what do you think I am?" I ask.

"I saw you walk through a wall, maybe you are a ghost?"

"A ghost?" I laugh joylessly: "Are you sure?"

"No, not at all." He shakes his head: "You might even be an alien at this point, you look just like my friend after all."

"A doppelganger, or a clone then?"

"Maybe... you might even be an evil fairy at this point."

"Evil fairy? That's too kind of a thing to say for you, you're not going with zombie? Or even vampire?"

"If you were a zombie it would have been obvious and I have never heard of a vampire being able to look like someone else."

"Vampires can shapeshift into bats, why not other humans?"

He takes a step back: "So you're a vampire?"

"No, of course not."

The bus arrives and I shake off the snowflakes that have landed on me, I really stood that still.

The door opens and we get inside the warm vehicle.

Even the bus seems to be empty, it's only us here. So I decide that it's safe enough to talk again.

The snow outside has started falling quicker now, was the weather back then like this as well? I don't remember.

"So..." Jimmy asks: "What are you then? And what happened to the real you?"

"You will know when we are there." I answer cryptically.

Though I don't seem to be able to stop him from asking questions.

"Are you two friends?"

I shrug.

"Are you identical twins or something? If so, why have I never met you? Maybe a robot?"

I look outside, ignoring his stupid question.

It doesn't take long for the bus to arrive at the place we need to be.

I press the button.

"Where are we going, this is in the middle of nowhere?"

Ignoring him again I get out, immediately we are greeted by the cold.

It has gotten dark already, so I turn on the flashlight on my phone. There are no street lights here after all.

"It's just a little further." I tell my impatient colleague.

We walk further through the dark and the cold snow.

"It's here..." I whisper, barely being able to talk thanks to the cold and low energy.

Jimmy looks around: "Here? There is nothing here. Are you just joking around? Do you think this is funny? Or could this be a plan for you to get rid of me?" I can hear anger in his voice.

"Please stop..." I whisper, but this time he is the one ignoring me, ranting on.

"You're such a jerk!" The harsh words left my lips before I knew it.

He turns to look at me and his expression turns into one of shock or maybe even worry. It takes me a second to realize why: drops on the ground have started to appear. Melting away the snow. It's not the rain, it's the tears falling down from my face.

Why doesn't he get it? Why won't he understand?

It hurts so much.

Even though my body had gone ice-cold, I can still feel the heat from the wreckage of that day.

Swiftly with a wild gesture of my arms I point to the road.

"This is where you left me... and where I changed."

The confession

A short horror story I wrote.

TW: 920

Word count: blood, gore, murder, religion

It's quiet today, yes it is most of the time in a church, but not this kind of silence... I might even be able to call it eerie.

It's so quiet it feels like there is someone here with me, just one that is able to hold their breath for a very long time or never had a breath to begin with.

From the corner of my eye I notice a dark red curtain close.

Ah, it must be someone whom is here to confess.

I carefully close the book I was reading and whilst holding it close I walk over to the one who seeks the guidance and forgiveness of God.

I enter the small room on the opposite side and close the curtain behind me.

As I sense the person in the other room make a cross, he speaks in a shaking voice: "In the n-name of the F-father, the Son a-and the Holy Spirit..."

I recognize the man's voice, it's Benjamin, the kind farmer from the edge of town.

He comes here often and is very devoted to God.

Just what could it be that scared the poor lad this much?

Ben continues his prayer: "May last confession has been..." He takes a break, seemingly deep in thought.

"I'm sorry, I... I don't know. I have been here every Sunday though, I truly didn't have anything to confess at that time."

"That is alright, I know. Please tell me what happened Ben."

"So..." He swallows loudly "It all started a couple of days ago."

"Recently my crops have been dying, much, much faster than normal. All of them are now nothing more but dust. At first I thought it was divine punishment for something, but after asking even my youngest it seemed not to be the case. There was something killing them. It didn't take long for it to go over onto my life stock, all dead. My sheep, my cows, even the little donkey.

All had been more than healthy before then.

No blood, just dead.

Of course I went to ask around and seemingly I wasn't the only one with this horrible occurrence. My neighbors Peter and Hans had the same problem.

Something has been eating away at the land. It was something evil, father.

The others and me, decided to investigate and found out that something strange happens at night.

There was something wandering our fields when even the moon and stars hid behind clouds out of fear.

We all saw them.

It looked human, a human with long dark hair.

Each time it even just passed something alive it would quickly perish.

Last night, we decided to make our move.

Armed, we followed it.

It led us into the dark forest, everything decaying in its path.

When it finally halted, Peter attacked first.

But he was touched by it by accident and turned to ash.

It was a terrible sight father! I won't ever be able to forget.

So Hans, enraged by the sudden death of our friend, screamed at it, grabbing it by its hair and yanking it back.

He held a knife to its throat ready to slice it open, and yet... he too lost his life right there.

The monster turned to me and asked: "Are you going to kill me too, mister?"

I could finally see its eyes, its horrid eyes.

I think they might have glowed, but I'm not too sure.

When the moon finally showed itself, it had turned just as blood red as the monster's eyes.

It had to have been the devil's work.

It has to!"

"What did you do?" I ask, trying to get him to continue his story, he came here to confess after all.

A strange giggle escaped the man's lips, one I have only heard once before from a madman.

"Ben! What did you do?!"

He remains silent for a bit.

Is he even still there?

"Father... I killed a child. I killed the devil's child" Ben answers with insanity clearly audible in his voice.

"Ben... you killed a child?"

Another strange giggle: "Father... I did it to save everyone. I stabbed it and stabbed it and stabbed it and stabbed it... In the end the monster even smiled at me as I cut out its facial features, to make it look more like the monster it was."

A chill runs down my spine, what in the Lord's name is going on?

Probably sensing my silence, Ben starts to weep: "My Lord... Father... I killed a child... I'm going to hell... aren't I?"

Unsure what to answer, I open my bible looking for a way to guide the man.

Suddenly I start to hear scratching on the other side, softly at first, but before I know it, it gets louder and louder.

'Is he nervous?' Is my first thought, but quickly the scratching doesn't sound human anymore.

I can't help it: "What's wrong?" I ask desperately, trying to hide my own panic.

"Father, please help me. God, please forgive me!" The man starts begging in great distress.

If this goes on, he might hurt himself, I have to get him out!

"Ben! Please, let's take a breath of fresh air! Please calm down, I'm sure He will forgive you!"

I jump out of the confessional, rush to his side and open his curtains.

But instead of being greeted by the panicked man's face, I am to an empty seat.

Empty.

No one.

Have I been talking to myself all this time?

No... The scratches are there.

The scratches in the woodwork are deep and look more to be made by some kind of animal, than a human being.

It almost looks like there is dust inside them.

With an audible gasp I take a step back, gazing into the empty room.

Then I notice something else amiss.

The light entering the church...

It has turned blood red.

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...

What's for dinner?

A short horror story I wrote:)

Word count: 1025

TW: Gore

That is the question I've been wondering about lately.

Mom and dad are amazing people, so it's really not that I don't trust them.

The truth is, sorry I know I'm not allowed to do so, I've been listening a lot to Carl recently.

I know, I know, he always says such weird things.

But I mean, he is still my brother.

Our family is so big, but he's always on his own, so I decided to be his friend.

He has always seemed quite lonely, never saying a lot, if not remaining silent for multiple days at a time.

Sometimes it looks like everyone has decided he is crazy, but I have not.

Even in silence we are able to play together.

Yesterday as we played with our toys he spoke an entire sentence.

It was a question.

"Do you know what's for dinner?"

At first I looked up in shock at the fact he spoke at all, but I quickly regained my composure: "I don't know." I answered.

"You should see."

I tried asking him more about it, but he stopped answering completely.

No word, not even a peep came out of him for the rest of the day.

After a while he got tired of playing and started reading a book.

I left him to it and started looking for mom.

It didn't take long for me to find her.

"Mom, can I ask you something?"

"Of course you can, dear."

"What are we having for dinner tonight?"

It takes a second for her to answer.

Did I accidentally scare her?

I thought her face looked like that, even if it was just for a second.

"Chicken, mashed potatoes and some veggies. Did you not see it on the board?"

Oh right! I can be so stupid sometimes!

"Sorry mom, I forgot to check..." I hit myself in the face: "Can I help you with cooking?"

She smiles at me in a rather sad way: "I'm sorry dear, not today. Maybe some other time."

"Okay!"

I give her a hug and walk off to do something else.

As the time to finally eat dinner the sound of the bell can be heard throughout the whole house.

Like always, we eat by candle-light and we're eating everything like it says on the board.

Nothing weird, nothing strange.

Was Carl just messing with me?

The next day I spent my time with Carl again.

"Hey Carl" : I ask my brother: "What did you mean yesterday about the food?"

He stops moving the arm his toy is in and then looks up to face me.

"So you haven't seen it?"

"I don't know what I'm supposed to see."

"You should look again."

And off I am again, as I walk towards the board dad notices me.

"Hello dear, what are you doing here?" he asks with a kind smile.

"Well dad, I was just wondering what we were going to have for dinner today."

He laughs just as kind as he smiles: "Well aren't you curious! We will be eating soup and bread today."

I nod: "Thank you, that sounds delicious!"

And then I add: "Is there anything I can help you with dad?"

He pats me on my head: "Don't worry dear, you should just go and play with the others."

And just like he told me to, I go to my other siblings.

Unfortunately they don't seem willing to spend time with me, they even make mean jokes about me.

All because I'm supposedly stupid for spending time with Carl.

They say he's a bad child and that me spending time with him makes me just as bad.

Crying I go back to my room.

After a little while I suddenly hear a quiet knock on my door.

I don't open the door, I want to be left alone.

The others might even make more fun of me if they see that I'm crying.

I hate it.

But my thoughts have no control over whoever is behind the door and it slowly opens.

It's Carl.

Quickly I wipe away my tears, but it seems that he has already seen it.

Without speaking a word he walks into my room and gives me a hug.

Comforting me in silence.

After I've calmed down a bit more, he whispers something: "You should see what we have for dinner."

Again?!

The question makes me a bit angry.

"I already know! It's soup with bread."

I push him away.

Defeated, he looks me in the eye and then shakes his head.

"You should see again."

"I don't understand, Carl! Please just help me understand!"

The tears are back again and this time not only from my eyes.

Carl is crying.

I've never seen him do so before.

"Dinner... is not..." He mumbles, stumbling over the words or perhaps not finding the right ones.

He strangely makes no attempt to wipe away his tears, mumbling the same words over and over again.

Just what could he mean with that?

Isn't this going too far for a joke?

This time it's my turn to give Carl a hug, but as I get closer, he starts to shake.

Is he scared of something?

Then just before I can wrap my arms around his body he runs away, leaving a trail of tears behind.

Just why is he crying?

I try to go after him, but can't find him anywhere.

He doesn't even seem to be in his room.

As I look under his bed to see if he might be hiding there, I notice a small object with a note attached to it.

I take it to have a closer look.

On the note he has written my name.

It's a flashlight.

I click the on/off button a couple of times, but it seems to be broken.

Still I decide to take it with me.

At dinner, we all gather at the candle-lit table again.

I look over to Carl's seat, but it's empty.

I ask the others, but they only snicker and mom hushes to make us go quiet again.

The rule is 'No talking while eating', so I too stop asking.

Today I don't feel particularly hungry and get bored quickly.

The candle light makes it so it only shows the food we're eating, I can't see any of the others.

It's almost as if I'm eating alone or I might not even be there either.

As I fiddle a bit with my fork I suddenly remember that I have the flashlight.

Without much thought I take it out and press the 'on' button.

This time however it did turn on.

It showed...

The table...

In a terrible condition...

The food...

It looks horrible...

My family...

Doesn't look like my family...

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 :)

Hidden ritual

A short horror story I wrote a while back:)

Word count: 888

TW: Blood

In truth I've always known that the house I live in is haunted.

The soft sounds of soft footsteps when you're home alone, the whispers when the house is empty...

You know all the signs.

All have been told before already after all.

We were just lucky that it never got worse than that, yes sometimes small objects would have been placed elsewhere, but we never got the feeling that we were dealing with something that was dangerous or angry.

So we just let it be, whatever it was.

Then one day, one of the kids was playing in the room with a tennis ball, I told them not to, but they did so anyway.

The ball bounced around the room, first hitting the floor, then the walls, then the ceiling and then it went into the hallway.

Full force it smashed itself through one of the walls.

I scolded my child, because we heard something break and then we quickly went to assess the damage.

And there it was, a hole as big as the ball itself showed a dark space behind the wall under the stairs.

"What's behind this?" My child asked me and even though I was angry I found myself to be curious about it as well.

I went to get a flashlight and shined it inside.

Something had been painted, or maybe written, but all was unreadable.

I didn't remember any room with such writing in it, for all I knew there shouldn't even be a room behind this wall.

After the whole family had gathered under the stairs, I decided to take out a hammer and see what could possibly be behind it.

BANG!

BANG!!

BANG!!!

The hole was now big enough to see through.

I took out the flashlight again and shone its light inside to reveal...

A person.

A person, as pale as a ghost, unmoving, perhaps even unbreathing.

A person lying in a coffin without a lid.

A person dressed strangely old fashioned.

"Don't look children." My wife tried to have our kids close their eyes.

We immediately took to the phone and called the police.

The entire wall was getting broken down now and shortly after they told me that the person in the coffin was in fact deceased. From the look of it, it hadn't been very long ago either.

All of us got questioned, but of course none of us knew.

That wall had been sealed off far before we started living here and none of us knew of any other way in.

The same day we were allowed to leave the station and stay with the neighbors, a nice elderly couple.

Even before these events my children have seen them as their grandparents, it wouldn't be possible for them to have committed such a heinous crime in our home.

I did tell them about what happened, but they seemed just as surprised as we had been when we found it.

The next day I decided to check up on how it was going, only to not find a single police officer there anymore.

"What's going on here?" I asked the people inside my house, to which they replied that they were archeologists sent by the police to investigate.

The strange story they told me was something about the fact that the corpse had actually been there much, much longer than we had initially thought.

The body had been lying there for centuries, the archeologists suspected that the walls might have been sealed shut in a way to make it air-tight. That way no bacteria would have been able to grow nor live there, making it impossible for the body to decompose.

It didn't take long until we were allowed to go back again, we weren't sure if that was something to be happy about, but we still did so anyway.

The first night we went back, none of us were able to sleep, so we let the kids sleep with us in our bed. Luckily all of them are still rather young, so it all just fitted.

When I finally fell asleep I had the strangest dream, I was sitting in my room, but unlike how it was, it was completely empty.

There was a knock on the door I was facing.

"Come in." I answered and silently the door opened to show a figure behind it, somehow the person looked familiar, but I couldn't seem to remember them.

The next night I dreamed that I was looking at a ceiling that had been chalked up with the strange writing I had seen in the space under the stairs before.

Not much else happened in that dream, but it felt strangely eerie.

Then on the third night I dreamed that I was walking in the hallway, someone was behind me, a woman that somehow resembled my wife.

She held a knife.

At the moment I turned around, the weapon was already stuck in my chest.

Glistering red victoriously.

The day afterwards I decided to talk to some of the archeologists and asked if they knew anything about the writing was on the walls.

I was told that their translator had found out that it somewhat looked like a ritual of some sort.

It might even have been a ritual of resurrection.

As you might believe I had too many questions to ask and very few answers to it, since all of it was still being investigated.

I decided to talk about it with my wife and as I did she suddenly said something strange:

"He really looks like you, doesn't he?"

"Who do you mean?"

"The man in the coffin."

Sleep paralysis

My most recent short horror story:)

Word count: 953

After a long day of work I finally got home.

While rubbing my tired eyes I open the door to my apartment.

I reach for the light and turn it on.

My eyes scan the room that has appeared before me.

Thank God, it looks exactly the same as how I left it. I think to myself.

Quickly I glance behind me in the hallway.

No one is there.

Good.

I enter my home and close the door behind me.

One lock.

And the second lock.

You can never be too sure.

You can never be too safe.

I live alone, so leaving and coming home is always connected to some sort of fear of an intruder or a change.

Or perhaps it's just me, I've always been told that I'm quite anxious.

Well whatever, I'm home, I'm going to cook myself dinner.

As the food in the pan has finally come to the right heat, I turn of the stove and put my dinner on a plate.

I go over to my couch, turn on the tv and start eating.

I always do it like this, especially whenever I need to work the next day.

Usually I don't even pay attention to what's on, I just stare at the screen blankly.

I need the noise in order to feel safe.

In order to feel... well, not alone.

A while after I've finished my food, I decide that it's time to go to bed.

I keep the tv on and go to the bathroom to brush my teeth.

As I get out and back into a room, I suddenly hear the tv blaring some news I really didn't want to hear.

"The serial killer that has taken the lives of five has yet to be caught. The police have let us know that all of the murders have been done by the same person, evidence has shown-"

I quickly turn off the tv, I feel my body has turned cold by the voice of the newscaster.

It feels terrible.

"I really didn't want to hear that." I say speaking to myself, something I've been doing more and more since living alone.

Maybe I should check all the doors and windows again... just to be sure no one could enter.

I turn on some happy music in order for me to go through with my triple checking round.

As I check everything for the last time, I finally decide that I am in fact alone and that no one is inside my home.

I close the curtains and get into my messily made bed.

Then it's time to turn off the lights.

It takes a while for me to sleep, the thoughts of the news from before still linger freshly in my mind.

Suddenly I hear something moving in my room.

I open my eyes.

It's really dark.

At first I don't see anything.

But then I do.

Something is inside my room.

I can feel my heart starting to beat faster.

Unmoving it stands in the corner of my room.

Something seems to be staring at me and I'm staring back.

My eyes blink and as my eyes open, I notice it standing closer to me.

It moves what I believe to be its head and I hold my breath.

For a moment dark spots start appearing and I'm forced to start breathing again.

The dark spots disappear, just as the figure.

Did it really go away? I wonder.

I try to turn my head, but somehow I seem to have lost all control of my body, except for my eyes.

Suddenly I notice something in the corner of my eye.

A face.

Someone is standing next to me.

Their face right next to mine.

The person, if I can call it that, in my room looks rather unsettling.

The face... has something unnatural to it.

One eye looks just slightly too big and the other too small.

The smaller one seems to be staring into my soul.

The big one seems to be almost bulging out of the eye socket, though that might still be in part my imagination. I wouldn't be able to tell you which eye is the smaller or bigger one.

Still in a way it does still look like a normal face, but also not at all.

Their skin is incredibly grey, like ash.

Their fingers are thin, so thin I've never seen before.

The intruder takes out something that glistens in the little bit of light that enters my room.

Immediately I know what the object is.

A knife.

"I know you can't move, so I will give you a chance." They say in a voice that seems devoid of humanity.

"With this mark, you are the next."

I try to move, but even just trying to move my lips end up accomplishing nothing.

My heart is beating so loudly I can't hear anything else.

The intruder smiles, too widely for any human being to be smiling and then slowly starts to cut through my skin.

It hurts.

It hurts!

I want to scream, but I can't.

I want to fight back, but my body won't let me.

A creepy chuckle leaves the person's lips.

Lips that seem to have something inhuman.

They take their time, cutting away at my shoulder.

Meanwhile I'm unable to do anything.

My blanket has fallen onto the ground and the figure picks it up and tuck me in.

"Ssssh... there, there." They say in a malice filed tone: "Don't be scared, I'll come back for you later."

Then the intruder leaves the room and I close my eyes.

My alarm wakes me up and the first thing I notice is that I'm able to move again.

What a nightmare.

I sigh.

Looking around, I finally feel at ease again.

No one is here.

I'm alone.

I get out of bed and get ready for the day.

When I'm ready to leave, I place my hand on the doorknob of my front door and, shocked, I pull it back quickly.

It's unlocked.

Both locks.

I'm so certain I locked them.

I checked and checked again.

A sudden pain enters my shoulder and I rub my hand against it, only to find it stained red.