List 5 Things That Make You Happy, Then Put This In The Askbox For The Last 10 People Who Liked Or Reblogged

Just ignore it

One of the first stories I posted on wattpad.

On there I'm at 71 short horror stories right now, I'm not sure if I will ever post all of the stories I wrote before on tumblr, but here is one.

Word count: 1105

TW: Psychological horror

I look up at the old school building, just for a second I see the cracks. The surrounding plants around it have started growing inside. Some of the windows are broken.

The broken bell goes off and it almost sounds like a muffled scream.

I quickly go inside.

Inside the right classroom I take a seat at my table, it is a scratched old table with graffiti, not done by me.

Slowly the classroom fills with my 'classmates', these dolls with keys in their backs. They enter with their rattling keys and stiff movements. Opening and closing their wooden mouths, like they are talking to one another. I can't hear them, but I'm not interested anyway.

Lastly, the 'teacher' enters leaving its books on the desk and 'starting the lesson'.

I don't care to listen to the clacking of its mouth. It doesn't matter anyway, ignoring is for the best and pretending.

At some point the 'teacher' points at me and stops.

Carefully I stand and walk towards it, followed by the empty stares of the other painted wooden faces.

It is quiet.

It has always been quiet.

My 'teacher' seems to have stopped working, so I stand behind it and gently turn it's key until it starts working again.

Then just as quietly as before, I return to my seat.

I stare out of the window, without actually observing what is happening. Well nothing is happening really. Nothing ever is.

Just nature taking over this school, this empty building.

Even during break I just stare outside, while those dolls are clacking to each other.

If I go anywhere the dolls will be mean to me, they will sometimes throw things at me or clack mean things about me. So it is better just to remain in one place. They are defective.

I return home without looking back.

I live in an old dollhouse, it's almost completely empty and always silent.

I love the silence.

I enjoy the emptiness.

The rest of the house is just like the city with plants growing everywhere, inside and outside the buildings.

All buildings are slowly breaking apart and I just ignore it.

It's all fake anyway.

It's all useless anyway.

Nothing matters here, just that I do what I have to do and return 'home'.

The next day when I go to 'school', something strange happens.

The 'teacher' introduces a new 'classmate', another doll.

With a key and a painted face, just like any other.

It takes the empty seat next to me.

The new student seems to try to get my attention, but I just start doodling in my workbooks. Pretending I don't see or hear her.

The day passes by quite quickly, and I return to my old dollhouse.

I walk up the creaking stairs and past the rotting woodwork.

In my room I stare out of the hole in the roof, at the dark, starless abyss, most people call the sky.

And just like always, another day has passed.

The next day I do the same as all the previous days.

Stare out of the window, turn a key and return to my seat.

Then lunch comes around.

The new student is getting more annoying.

It has even started jumping in front of me to get my attention, which made the other dolls clack their mouths like they were laughing.

It's becoming more and more difficult.

Then suddenly it locks it's wooden hands around my wrist.

No matter how hard I struggle, It won't let me go.

Then it started walking and I am forced to follow.

We go up to the rooftop.

"I need you to listen." The voice coming out of the doll sounds vaguely human.

While blocking the only exit, it let's go of my wrist.

What does this thing want from me? None of them ever try to contact me as long as I ignore them, why does this one do?

The new student puts a hand under its chin, then a short click could be heard.

She removes her face, I guess she was wearing a mask.

I look at her face, her nose, her eyes, her eyebrows... Everything about her looks too familiar.

She looks like...

me...

Why does she look like me?

"I need to speak with you, please listen." She pleads with my voice.

I don't like where this is going and I take a step back. She doesn't seem to mind though.

"I need you to start looking around you and not ignore everything."

I remain silent.

"Remember what the doctor told us, about the ignoring of bullies and unfortunate situations? Well he was wrong."

I stay quiet and stare past her at the door, so close yet so far away. I just want to ignore her and continue my day.

"You can't ignore everything, you've already done that too much. You need help. You need to tell others about what's going on and learn not to just take everything."

So annoying.

"I don't care... I can just ignore it." I mumble to myself.

"Please don't." the other me pleads, her eyes starting to look red and watery.

I don't answer and take a few steps closer to the door.

"No you can't leave!" She yells.

I glare at her: "You're not supposed to exist. The doctor wasn't the only one who told me to just ignore it. Everything is better this way."

Defeated, she moves aside, her head hanging down: "S-so it has already gone this far... I see, it really is too late."

In silence I continue towards the door.

As my hand brushes the door handle she suddenly seems to want to give it one more try: "This whole city will collapse on top of us! It will kill us!"

"Then let it collapse. I can't go back to the time, when I still observed, when I still listened and I still felt everything. That time was hell. It was worse than death."

"But it is not too late. You can still get the help you need, before your world will collapse!"

"I don't want it."

I shove her aside and return to class.

The classroom looks more in disrepair than before we left, but I ignore it.

As school continues on, more cracks start appearing and I haven't seen the other me since I left her.

She probably won't return.

She must have left.

Given up entirely.

Well it's not like she could change my mind or anything.

She has no power over this place, unlike me.

I don't want to leave this place.

Yes, it's empty and it's lonely.

It might all be breaking apart, but this is my only safe haven. My own place of peace and quiet.

My own safe little world.

When the teacher stops working while pointing it's finger at me again, I turn the key on his back and return to my seat.

See, it all works perfectly fine.

I'm perfectly fine.

Nothing is wrong.

As long as I just ignore it all

And then at last the cracked walls can't hold the ceiling anymore.

I can hear its creaking.

But like always... I just ignore it.

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...

Writing for the lost

A short horror story I wrote a while ago.

Word count: 2096

I've always wanted to be a writer.

I've always so desperately tried, to then always fail.

I've written stories about dragons, stories about strange civilizations, and yet it seems to be that all my hard work has been for naught.

I grasp to every chance to write something, be it a competition or just for others.

And I always end up getting hurt, again and again and again and again and again.

Perhaps they've been right all along, I just don't have any talent.

That my stories are mere imitations of the great ones.

Well, they might be, for all I know they might all be damned.

Perhaps it would be better to stop, to call it quits, but I can't.

I can't.

I just can't.

As the thing I've been working towards my entire life, I can't let it go now or I will really have lost.

I work jobs I don't like in order for me to be able to purchase the things to write and to give myself time to read.

But a masterpiece is something I will never be able to write.

I remember once entering a competition just to be told that my writing lacks emotion and originality. Well I've been told worse before.

But still, I try and try again.

Probably until I can't anymore.

Until even breathing is something too difficult.

Recently I moved to a new house, it's old.

It's also difficult to keep clean, but the rent is dirt cheap.

I might be able to stay here for longer than half a year, so I'm pretty happy with it.

Perhaps it's time to hire a maid, though I would need to work even harder to afford one... Yeah, I should just do it myself.

Even though this house is in a bad shape, it feels almost as if it has a soul.

Like the house is a whole character in itself.

In a way it makes me feel less lonely.

The paint is slowly peeling from the walls and not all the lights work, but in a way it speaks to me.

Like something I've long lost or have yet to gain.

In all truth, there is something amiss with this house, something strange, but I dare not call it wrong.

The first night I sat by my mattress on the floor and took out one of my old notebooks.

"Alright, I think I'm going to write now." I said to the house, I said to myself.

Speaking aloud is something I do often when I'm alone, so I did not expect a response.

"What will you be writing?" a voice echoed through the house, entering my bedroom.

I was quiet for a moment, listening to the suddenly eerie atmosphere that had entered the room.

After a long while I finally mustered the courage to answered: "A story"

"What is this story about?" The house asked.

"I-I don't know yet..." I whispered.

I could feel my hand holding the pen tremble, but I didn't dare to run away, I didn't even dare to look behind me.

"How about you write a story about me?" The voice asked slowly.

"I-I can do that, please t-tell me." I hated the fact that I couldn't stop my voice from shaking.

"Hmmm..." The voice seemed deep in thought: "How about we write it together?"

I could feel a cold hand touch my shoulder, to then enter my body.

It was truly a strange sensation, nothing I had ever felt before.

But I guess I can say, I got possessed.

When I came to, I had written almost an entire book, my hands covered in blisters were sore as can be and I felt like I had had the strangest dream.

I dreamed that I was someone else.

I dreamed of the feelings they felt.

I dreamed of the pain they had to have endured.

As I looked at the pages written in a handwriting that wasn't mine, I could remember the dream more vividly.

I looked up to find an almost transparent man before me.

"Not enough." He mumbled: "Not enough."

"What do you mean?" I asked carefully.

"This is simply not enough..."

I let him think in silence for him, afraid of what would happen if I were to anger the spirit before me.

"It's not the whole story yet." He finally answered: "It has yet to be finished."

As I tried to get up, holding up my arms for him, wanting to tell him that he can try again, dark spots start appearing in my vision and before I know it I fall over.

"That must be the problem." I heard him say: "You are too weak."

The words sound harsh, but I also know that they spoke the truth.

I was weak... No I still am.

I can't do anything.

I have no talent for anything.

I am useless.

Somehow the ghost decided to take pity on me and sat next to me.

"You gotta eat something, my friend." He said in a kind voice.

I could feel an ice cold hand on my shoulder, so cold that it felt like it could freeze my body and turn it into solid ice.

Slowly I got up, my 'friend' following closely behind me, making sure I wouldn't fall over.

He helped me sit down at the table, where I reached for some of the fruit in the basket.

I took a bite and only then noticed that it had long spoiled, still I continued until I had finished it completely.

"What is it that made you so obsessive over writing a story?" My friend asked.

"Good writers live forever within their works, good writers never leave this earth."

"What caused you to think like that?"

"People disappear often, swiftly and without much noise. I don't want to go out like that."

My friend hesitated and then answered: "I see." I think he said it because he didn't want to invade my privacy.

"So, why do you want to have your story written?"

He shrugged: "I guess it's almost the same reason as for you to write. I don't want my story to disappear. I came to my end in a way I don't wish upon my most feared enemies."

"Why not find someone stronger and more talented than me?" I asked out of curiosity.

"You're the first."

Just what does he mean with that?

"The first that was able to allow me to write to speak out my anguish."

As I have regained some of my energy I carefully stand up, this time not falling over nor seeing dark spots cloud my vision.

"Alright, let's work together." I offered and my friend nodded in agreement.

Days went by in which I took better care of myself and had a moment in which my friend could take up my pen.

Day after day, more empty pages got filled with a story, the story of him.

As the final day grew closer, I could feel his frustration slowly ebb away.

Then it came.

It arrived much too early for my taste to be completely honest.

After all, I made a friend, a good one at that, someone that only I could hear and see, someone that told me different from my dark lingering thoughts.

"May I request something?" He asked kindly like always.

"But of course, anything that may be of help to you."

His face turned serious.

"I would like it if you were to publish this, under your own name."

Shocked, I looked at him: "But this is your story, yours and yours alone, you can't leave it to me! If you want it published so badly, I can bring it to a publisher and say that you, my friend, are the writer of this masterpiece."

He looked down.

"But you wrote it." He silently protested.

I immediately shook my head: "No, you did, you did it, you wrote the story of your life."

Then he slammed his fist on the table.

"Dammit! I want you to take it, you have been nothing but kind to me. I have worn you out to have my last wish be granted through you. Most people would run away if they ever were to even lay eyes upon me. You are the only one to understand me, so please... just listen to me."

Shocked by his sudden burst of anger and frustration, he reminds me that his last day is coming closer.

This time I look down: "Fine." I mumbled: "I will publish it under my name, but I will tell everyone that I wrote it with the help of a friend."

A sad smile crossed his face: "You better do."

And thus I went to the publisher the very next day.

It was one of those that had refused me before a couple of times, but this was the closest one to my house.

As I knocked on the door, I was greeted by the man that owned the company.

"What the hell are you doing here so early in the morning?!" His voice was stern, perhaps angry even.

"I've come to show you something."

"Again?! You know I ain't reading anymore of that garbage that is written by you!"

"I wrote it with a friend."

"Oh, yeah, who ist?"

"He... he prefers to remain anonymous."

"Anonymous? Bah, the only thing I smell here is bullshit!"

"It's because it's his personal story."

A mailman walks by giving the owner a couple of letters.

At first I wasn't sure, but I noticed that one of them had something like 'EVICTION' written on it.

He then confirmed it to me.

"Look pal, there is no story big enough to save this company of mine. Rent is due and there are mouths to feed."

"Please..." I begged him: "Please just read, even if it's only the first page. No first half of the page is good enough."

He sighed.

"Fine then, but this is your last chance. If it's bad again, I will never allow you to enter this place anymore."

Thanking him, he let me inside.

Carefully I handed him my manuscript as he sat down on a chair.

"Half a page you said?"

"Yes." I nodded.

To my delight, as the owner started reading the story, he almost seemed to get absorbed in it.

He didn't read half a page at all like I had requested, page after page he read.

At some point I could see tears well up in his eyes, at another I could see the frustration in him like that of the protagonist of the story.

And then he closed the last page.

It had already gotten dark outside and he had read every word, not skipping anything.

With a satisfied sigh, he wiped his head and then looked at me.

"Well that certainly is how you do it, son."

I bowed and thanked him.

"I-it's truly almost something close to a miracle."

"Could you publish this for me?"

The man nodded: "Yes, yes. Of course."

It didn't take long before I could find my book in the local bookstores.

But I didn't take the time to celebrate this victory.

My best friend was gone after all, his place felt empty.

I couldn't care less about my income or the fact that I could finally live somewhere else that was cleaner or in better shape.

I visited his grave often, even talking to him, knowing full well he wasn't there to listen anymore.

Then one day another one came.

A spirit.

A lost soul.

Someone in need of my help.

Like before I wrote them a book, I wrote their story.

And in time they left me again too.

I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, I wrote and wrote.

Somehow in time I had become somewhat of a best-seller, people would even recognize me in the streets and ask me for an autograph. And I would always tell them that I never wrote a story alone.

I always told them that I shouldn't get all the praise.

Eventually I started noticing myself growing weak again.

Weaker than I had ever felt before.

Though some spirits would try to take care of me, I got sicker and sicker.

It wasn't something a doctor could cure.

It's my curse after all.

My curse is sucking away at my life force.

My unnatural talent is killing me!

Scared, I look up, dropping the pen from my trembling hands, spilling small drops of ink over the floor, my hands and on some of the pages.

"Are you okay?" The man, or rather ghost, before me looks worried.

"I...we..."

He looks down with eyes filled with regret: "Yes, you and I are the same. We both have the same curse, if you're not careful enough, death will come to get you earlier as well."

White hell

Here's another short story I wrote.

I hope you like it:)

TW: Gore & psychological horror

It's all white...

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

I don't know where I am.

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

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

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

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

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

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

There is barely even any shadow.

There is constant white light.

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

Will I go crazy?

Some time later...

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

How long? I don't know.

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

I've no clue.

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

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

I wonder if I'm still alive.

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

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

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

An unidentified amount of time later...

I found something!

Not an exit unfortunately, but something with color.

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

The water is a calm, light blue.

So I jumped in...

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

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

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

Later...

I've made a friend!

My first friend in forever!

The most beautiful friend one could ask for.

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

The one thing that totally made my day.

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

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

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

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

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

More time passed

I don't know what to do.

I hate myself.

I killed my friend.

My one and only true friend in this white hell.

Poor little butterfly.

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

Oh God, what have I done...

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

I cried.

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

I mourned him.

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

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

A new color.

Red.

It came out of him, just a little bit.

Just a small drop.

A beautiful crimson red.

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

Date unknown:

I have found more red.

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

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

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

I didn't know it could do that!

It's pretty.

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

There is nothing else then this white hell.

The flames in her eyes

The most recent short story I wrote.

I wouldn't call it horror, but to some it might be seen as frightening or dark. Personally I find it to be closer to fantasy.

Word count: 2298

This place, if I can call it that, feels like the strangest place I’ve ever been.

It’s so very cold here, although that might also just be my own body temperature, coming from within me. Am I cooling down this place? Though there still remains the slight chance of me being wrong about everything.

It’s far too dark to see, pitch black, darker than any place I’ve ever been .

Darker than the most cloudy of nights.

Darker than my room with the curtains closed at night.

I quietly wonder if I’m still asleep after all and decide to take a step forward to test this theory.

Unexpectedly I drop onto an unfamiliar floor.

So… I was standing when I awoke?

Not lying down?

With my hands I blindly scan the texture of the floor.

It’s colder than the air, my fingers run over something that feels like old tiles.

Damnit, why does it have to be so dark in here? If I could just see, I could have avoided falling.

Then the real question hits me: How the hell did I get here?!

Abduction?

I don’t remember a thing.

A nightmare?

It’s too real for that.

Should I wait? Would that be better? Maybe someone will rescue me.

Or perhaps this is a dream in which I must first die to wake up again?

But then I would need to get up and walk around…

After a couple of minutes of contemplating my choices, I finally decide that it’s time to get up again.

Almost embarrassingly childlike I stumble around in the dark.

Tripping over my own feet and at times an alien object, I finally reach something that could possibly be a wall.

Gently running my hands around me, I find another wall that seems to be made of something like metal bars, like those inside a prison cell. Too tight too escape from.

Still following this one might bring me to the exit.

I use the cold, rusty bars in order to move around, they feel old.

Taking one after another I carefully make my way forward.

Had this been a prison at some time? I question myself in silence.

Right, the silence.

This place seems to almost be completely without sound.

No noise of the wind, not even a little bit. Though I guess if I really want to hear it, I can just wave my arms around really quickly and create something like it.

Furthermore, there are no voices, no breathing from any other possible creature within this place.

I wonder if this might be normal or abnormal here, though both fill me with a sense of fear.

I feel my way out of the room, it seems like I’ve not been imprisoned.

Still I don’t feel any relief, because it seems to be terribly dark everywhere around me.

I find myself in what I believe to be a hallway, the walls stretch out always further than I anticipate and are made of a different kind of stone from the walls inside the cell.

I’m starting to lose hope and am just able to stop myself from panicking.

I don’t think I will get out of here.

And perhaps that might be for the best.

My thoughts turn darker than wherever I am, like it’s trying to swallow me whole. Dragging me deeper down with each desperate escape I try to make.

Perhaps I’ve been eaten by some kind of giant creature…?

If it was a creature, it would probably still be warm.

Finally I decide it’s enough and sit down hopelessly on the floor.

Yet no tears leave my eyes, they’re useless anyway.

I sit.

I wait.

I pluck my clothes, until it tires me.

I wait.

My body has now almost completely turned as cold as the floor.

My thoughts, only turning darker and darker.

I close my eyes. Well I’m not sure, perhaps they’re still open. It’s too dark to see.

I wait.

Suddenly something wakes me up as it tumbles over me. Something moving.

“Ouch.” I say even though it doesn’t hurt.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so, so sorry!” The voice breaking the silence startles me.

Echoing, I can make out that the voice most likely belongs to a girl in her late teens.

“Wait, someone else is here?” She asks frightened: “I thought I was all alone.”

“I thought so too, but I guess that’s not the case.” I answer as calmly as possible.

I feel a warm hand helping me stand back on my own feet.

“You’re so cold.” The girl whispers: “How long have you been sitting here?”

I shrug: “No idea.”

I hear her hair moving, most likely she’s turning her head to face me.

And then, I finally see something.

In the eyes of the girl, I spot what seem to be two little flames.

Two blue dancing little flames.

Two little flames that seem to have not lost hope.

Two little flames that want to escape this darkness and return back to the world of light.

“What’s going on with your eyes?” I ask without thinking.

“What do you mean?” She asks surprised.

“It’s like there’s fire coming out of them.”

She giggles: “Yeah sure, the chances of you starting to see things thanks to lying on this cold floor for so long, is pretty damn high.”

Ignoring her I ask: “Do you happen to know a way out?”

“What do you think? I almost can’t see a thing.”

“Almost?”

“Yeah, sometimes only a wall when it’s near and of course my own hands.”

I move my hands, but don’t see them. I can’t see the walls either.

“Really?” I ask.

Could it be that she’s somehow able to see more in this darkness?

She giggles again: “You really can’t see anything? You should be able to see your own hands at least.”

“No…” I hesitatingly answer, shaking my head: “But I can see your eyes.”

“That’s weird, maybe you're imagining it?” It’s clear as day that she’s not taking me seriously.

Ignoring her tone I ask: “Should we try to get out together?”

“Yes please, I’m super glad I’m not alone anymore.” I can hear a sense of fear in her voice, she seems desperately trying to hide.

The girl takes my hand, probably that there’s no way I would be able to find her once lost.

I mumble a thanks and we start walking.

“Are we inside some kind of labyrinth?” The girl complains as we find another wall.

“That might just be the case.” I answer now slightly annoyed by the girl.

“You know, it would help if you weren’t so cold all the time.”

“Sorry.” I apologize. I’ve been told this many times before. That I should act warmer if I want to have a good life. Yet, I’ve found it to be rather difficult. I’ve known what it’s like to be too warm and kind. You often get used by others.

I’ve learned my lesson and cut people off, blocked them away from me. It’s safer that way.

Feeling around with my free hand I suddenly notice a crack inside a wall.

“Hey, could you check this out?” I ask the girl.

“Sure.” In my mind she shrugs as she answers, perhaps she really did it, perhaps she didn’t.

“I think… we can break this down.” She whispers as she lets go of my hand.

I can hear her rummaging around, most likely taking out loose bricks.

“Do be careful that it won’t fall on us.” I warn her.

“Leave it to me, I can see it… though slightly. I believe this should be able to be opened up.”

I take a step back and let her handle it.

She takes out brick after brick.

“I think it’s big enough for both of us to fit through now.” She finally whispers.

She takes my hand again and leads me through the narrow hole in the wall and we enter a new place.

Probably the same as the one before.

“Is this just like the rest?” I ask.

She takes me further away from the hole and touches another wall: “Yeah, we’re still stuck in this labyrinth.”

Suddenly I spot something out of the corner of my eye and quickly take the girl further back, to the other side, away from whatever that is.

“What’s wrong?” She asks slightly frightened.

“I think… someone is there.” I whisper to her.

I see two large flames welling up in the distance.

“Are you sure?” The girl asks.

I nod, but of course she won’t be able to see that.

Carefully I try to lead the girl further back, but am only greeted by a cold wall against my back.

Too late.

The flames look our way.

At first I believe to hear something crackle, only to realise that it’s laughing. Laughing of an old woman.

“You don’t have to hide for me, dear girls.” She laughs in a sweet voice: “I may be old, but my eyes can still see very well.”

I can feel the girl trembling: “How… how is it possible for you to see us?”

“What do you mean, dear child? There is enough light to see everything.”

“No, that’s not true… it’s pitch black, I can barely spot my arms before me.”

Still holding onto each other we slowly walk towards the older woman with her flaming eyes.

Her voice turns to me and so do her flames.

“Can you two really not see anything?”

The girl answers for me: “She can’t, I can just see a little.”

“Do you know a way out?” I ask the older woman.

I see her flames moving, almost as if shaking her head: “No, unfortunately not. Though I believe that now that we’re not alone anymore, we will find a way out much easier.”

I guess she isn’t the one who has brought us here, if it even was someone.

“Let me come with you, we might find our way out quicker.”

I look at her flames and nod.

“My child, how were you able to see me, if you can’t see anything else?” The old woman asks questioningly.

Before I can answer, the girl does it for me: “She keeps saying that she sees the flames in other’s eyes. Still it’s probably just-“

“So you can see the flames of other people’s souls?” The older woman doesn’t allow the girl to continue.

I shrug: “I don’t know… it’s probably just all in my head. I’ve never seen anything like that in my ordinary life outside of this place.”

“Here’s a mirror. Can you hold it by yourself?” The old woman shoves a cold and heavy object in my hands, almost having me slip it out of my hands. Hurting my fingers to keep it steady.

I try to look at it, but there is no reflection of my own flames, if I even have them.

“Well, do you see them?” the lady asks, way too enthusiastic.

I shake my head and answer with a plain: “No.”

Both of them take a stand next to me, probably looking in the mirror.

Then I see something inside of it.

The flames.

Their flames.

So… I don’t have them?

Could it be that… I’m soulless?

“So? What do you see?”

“I see nothing, but the reflection of yours.” I answer honestly.

“That’s unfortunate.” The woman says, sounding deep in thought: “Could it be… that you had a not so fortunate life?”

As I remain quiet, she apologises: “I’m sorry, it’s not my place to ask such questions. But if you need someone to listen to you, I’m more than willing to help you lighten that burden of yours.”

“Thanks.” I say, though slightly annoyed. I don’t like people poking into my problems.

The old woman leads us through the hallways, making sure, neither I nor the girl end up falling over something.

“You two should be thankful that you can’t truly see this place. Something horrible has taken place here.”

“I see.” I answer coolly.

“Don’t be like that!” The girl starts panicking.

The woman laughs joylessly: “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“Why did you have to say that? Now I can only imagine all the shapes as dead bodies.”

The woman remains quiet.

So that must be the case.

Still, there don’t seem to be enough to cover the entire floor. Since the older lady is able to guide us through them so well.

“Gosh, this seems to be a dead end.” The woman sighs.

“Really?! I don’t want to go back there!” The girl cries out.

Carefully I let go of the girl’s hand, something has taken my attention.

There is something shining dimly straight ahead of me, it’s unlike the flames of my two companions.

Somehow friendly and familiar.

“What’s over there?” I ask while straying away from the others.

“You shouldn’t go there!” The girl calls out, but even though her voice sounds terrified, I don’t listen.

I feel like the light is calling me.

“My child! You shouldn’t venture there!” The old woman calls out to me, her ancient voice trembling in anguish: “Terrible things have happened there!”.

But I ignore her as well.

I feel myself walking into something like a puddle, too thick to be water, but I decide not to think about it.

The light is getting closer and closer, brighter and brighter.

“Ma’am, please get back here!”

“You’ll hurt yourself if you continue!”

I feel something sharp digging itself into my right leg.

Quickly I kneel down to push whatever it is away, but it starts digging deeper into it.

It hurts.

It hurts so fucking much!

Every time I try to reach it, my hands seem to slip away, whatever I’m standing in is way too thick to be just water.

Don’t think about it.

Don’t think about it!!!

As I’m finally able to take out whatever it is, I notice that little lights are dropping down.

I try to look at what I believe to be up, only to find out that the small lights are coming from me.

I smirk, I guess I’m not soulless after all.

I hear both women behind me yell at me to return, screaming for the fear I might get hurt or lose my life.

I don’t pay it any attention and continue.

The light I see behind that door.

My own tears seem to be leading me there as well, dropping quietly without sound, slowly they turn dark like everything around me, just showing small pieces of my path.

I reach out my arm for the light.

But instead of holding something warm, it’s something cold.

It’s an old door handle.

Very, very old. Something I would expect to find inside an ancient castle.

As I hold it, all the light fades once more and I open the door.

Delivery

A short horror story I wrote:)

Word count: 1757

TW: Gore, psychological horror

Click, click, click, thunk!

It could not comprehend what it saw above us.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Carefully and slowly we make our way to the door.

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

I swear that is some great tech…

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

The trusty sound of my crossbow.

The gentle ticking of the automaton’s gears.

The dripping of water… or blood.

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

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

It was so strange, well the whole thing.

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

I found the machine inside a coffin shaped box.

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

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

A soft sobbing behind the door takes my attention.

I listen more carefully.

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

So, there might be another survivor in there.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Immediately I feel cold sweat in my neck.

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

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

“Get in!” I whisper to it.

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

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

Suddenly I sense something moving.

There really is still someone in the building.

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

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

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

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

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

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

The look he shows me is one of pure terror.

I lower my weapon.

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

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

“No sir, as you can see I’m not.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he shakes his head.

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

“We’ll be going anyway.” I shrug.

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

I curse and quickly grab the automaton’s arm.

“We gotta go!”

We rush further back.

Back door. Back door.

Where the hell is the back door?!

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

I hear the priest scream.

The monster turns to him.

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

The crushing of bones.

The tearing of flesh.

The dripping of blood.

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

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

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

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

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

It’s much bigger than the church.

Again I hold my weapon ready.

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

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

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

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

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

I remain silent and listen to the soft noise.

There might be another person in that room.

Quietly I walk towards the door and open it.

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

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

“Oh… so you’re human?”

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

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

“I see.”

“Do you have any memories of attending school?”

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

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

“I see, that must be nice.”

I take a step closer.

“What are you reading?” I ask curiously.

“A book of faith.”

“Faith?”

“It’s all true you know.”

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

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

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

Crap that only made him yell even louder.

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

Something from outside is trying to climb inside.

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

I warn the man by pointing behind him.

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

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

We rush out, further, out of the city.

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

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

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

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

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

Wait…?!

Is it nodding?!

Trainride at night

A short horror story I wrote a while ago

Word count: 1208

TW: Gore, body horror, blood

For so far I could see and hear, the train seemed to be entirely empty. There was no movement or other sounds either, except for my own.

A soft krrsss can be heard as I turn a page of the book I'm holding.

Outside its dark. Not just dark that you can see something, no it is pitch black. Like the windows are just painted walls or someone put the plastic bags made for trash cans onto the windows.

Bored I stare at the unmoving words in the book I am holding in my hand. Too tired to actually read them. Too tired from the long day, but it's not like I have anything better to do anyway.

With my elbow I lean against the window in order not to fall asleep.

"ugh..." I sigh annoyed as I slam my book shut, I can't stay awake if I keep staring at my book!

I look around, but the only movement is that of the moving vehicle as it gently drives over the railway tracks. It drives so gently and quietly it almost sounds like humming. The sound is not annoying in any way, but doesn't help me with staying awake.

Even if the train drives so quietly, it is still going quite fast.

Sudden all the lights go out and it becomes even darker.

I can't see the windows.

I can't see my hands.

I can't see the closed cover of my book.

I can't see anything.

It is almost as if the world stopped existing, the only proof of it not being the case is the soft humming of the train wagons.

I am tired.

So tired.

I wonder if the train driver has forgotten that they still have one passenger, but we are still driving and we haven't passed my station yet.

Blinded by the darkness I feel around for my bag and take out my phone.

Too Bright!!

I shield my eyes from the light from my phone as I try to find the flashlight function.

My tired eyes really seem to need the extra time adjusting to the light.

I look around, something was off.

Not my seat, but all the others looked... thorned up and very old.

Weird, I'm sure that this is a relatively new train.

I quickly put my book in my bag and decide to look around. I don't feel safe to just sit in one place.

I decide that the best option is to look for the driver, so forward it is.

With my light forward and holding trying to keep away the fear, I walk through the seemingly endless train.

After a bit I notice that everything in the train starts looking worse, missing seats and then broken glass.

All of a suddenly another train passes mine, the lights are on, but no one seems to be on it... wait no, someone is there.

A strange figure stands by the window, as I look closer I see the familiar shape of myself.

It's me.

But wrong.

The head is twisting too fast for a human and bones are sticking out of its body.

I can see my ribs poking holes out of the chest with blood streaming down.

Both trains seem to be going the same speed now and I stand facing the other me, without saying a word I stare at it, readying myself for anything.

Then the head stops twisting and it stares at me with one eye hanging loosely over the right cheek.

I quickly take a step back.

"Who..." I whisper, but as I try to speak the other me shakingly puts a finger against its lips.

I try to breathe normally, but it is getting more and more difficult.

After a staring contest (and battle for me not to empty my stomach here) it suddenly jerks an arm pointing to my left.

What the hell?!

Don't go to the front of the train, go back.

Was that a voice in my head? Or did I say that out loud? How much is the other me able to take control?

"Right..." I whisper as I back off further, walking in the direction 'me' wants me to go.

A creepy smile appears on 'my' face, not mine, not mine at all.

Quickly I start running, I almost drop my phone thanks to my sweaty hands.

Luckily there is still some light from the other train, but on the other hand it creates many creepy shadows and sometimes it looks like other people are sitting or standing around me.

I run as fast as I can until my breath has all run out and I fall to the ground gasping for air.

I got to keep going.

I got to keep...

I got to...

I got...

I...

Darkness consumes my vision like many hands appearing and blocking my view.

Screaming doesn't work, something is blocking my mouth from opening.

.

.

.

As I open my eyes I see that the trains lights are working again, the other train is gone and I'm lying on the floor.

Did all of that really happen?

No, there is no way.

Carefully I get back up on my feet again and pick up my phone.

Oh crap, the screen is scratched. Well, hopefully I can get it repaired.

I turn it on, it still seems to work.

Something catches my eye, my phone's battery is 48%...

I could have sworn I had less than that, like 30% or something.

I put the device in my pocket and walked the way I was going before I collapsed.

Sssrrkkk....

Sssrrrkkk...

What is that noise?

It sounds like it is coming from a few seats in front of me.

Quickly I walk towards it, hoping to find another living human being that doesn't have bones sticking out.

Someone seems to be reading a book.

Again?

It is another me again, no blood this time though.

Quietly so as not to make a noise I walk by, when I stop, two steps apart, the other me stops turning the pages.

I take a step back, they suddenly turn a page again, the other way this time.

Don't tell me.... Is that 'me' in reverse of me?

When I take a step forward 'I' do it again.

So It really is reversed, now that I think of it, the train sounds different, so... is this also?

I don't get it, I want to get out!

I quickly run past myself to make sure I don't get attacked.

The thought of breaking a window jumps in my mind, but I don't want to attract any unwanted attention.

As I run I see another me and another me.

Everyone of them, doing something different or sitting somewhere else.

All of a sudden the sound of something breaking behind me catches my attention and I turn around to look.

It seems to be nothing at first, but then something else breaks again...

It's the lights.

One by one, like the darkness decided to walk toward me and with each one, it goes faster.

Again I run, passing by more other me's.

I can hear someone speaking behind me, but it all sounds like it is in reverse.

When I look behind me I bump into another me standing close to a door.

"Get out, get out!" I yell.

"Get OUT!!!"

I look up from my phone, did someone just talk to me?

I look outside, it is dark outside the train like usual around this time.

The humming of the vehicle almost makes me fall asleep.

The train comes to a halt.

Is this my stop?

Seems like it.

I press the button for the doors to open and after a second they do.

As they open and I step aside, my reflection appears rather strange.

Was I just smiling? Like really creepy?

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.

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."

Snowglobe

A short horror story I wrote.

TW: Abuse, blood

Word count: 655

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

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

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

It's time!

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

Just before lunch her aunt arrives.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes, Yes, I love it!"

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

"Auntie..."

"Yes."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The snowflakes fly around everywhere.

Then the sky starts to break.

It breaks and shatters.

Shards fall down.

And then the blood rain starts.

Coloring the cold snow a hot, dark red.

The smell of iron can be smelled everywhere.

In just a few seconds everything has turned red.

A woman sits crying in a corner.

"ImsosorryImsosorry!"

She can't stop herself from apologizing.

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

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

Hilda whimpers.

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

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

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

Is it really my fault? She wonders.

I don't even know what I did wrong?

Her husband is completely red-faced from anger.

So much anger.

He yanks her by her hair.

Then he takes her most prized possession.

Her snowglobe.

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

And again.

And again.

TWHACK!

TWHACK!

CRACK!!!

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

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

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

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

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