Do You Remember?

Masked

A short horror story I wrote.

If you enjoy it, I have a wattpad account with more of them:

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

TW: Gore, depression & psychological horror

Perhaps it's just my world, but it might also be yours.

Everyone here wears a mask.

A real mask, maybe the one given from the beginning or one changed or even stolen.

Our masks decide everything for us: our emotions, jobs, school, friends, relationships, chances in life and even crimes. Our whole identity really.

Without our masks, we can't live since there isn't really anything underneath it.

We all get our first mask just after birth after all.

My life has always been rather uneventful, boring even. Oh how much I wished to be another. Everything about me has been determined from the start, written in stone, from beginning to end.

So I am done.

I don't want to continue this miserable life.

I stare up to face the sky, silently cursing its ways. Raindrops drip from my mask, falling down, making circles in the puddles beneath me.

The sudden sound of a door creaking behind me, awakens me from my self-pity and dark thoughts.

Quickly I turn to see who just invaded my space.

"Ah, sorry." A man softly mutters when he sees me: "I'm sorry for intruding."

I look at him slightly annoyed. Why can't people just leave me alone?

He looks a bit gloomy, but I must look worse.

From his mask I can see that he is one of the people born more fortunate, a higher class.

How can someone like that-

"Are you also bored?"

I sigh, it must have been written all over my mask.

But I ignore him.

Then he asks me a question, so very strange.

"Do you want to swap?"

Swap? Is his life that bad?

"Isn't that dangerous?" I carefully ask.

"If we do it quickly, no." he answers calmly.

"But it is illegal, right?!"

"Yes, but no one will notice."

It is quiet for a bit, only the sound of the rain surrounds us, soaks us.

I am the one who breaks the silence first: "Before we do, tell me about yourself! I won't make a deal without knowing what I might be up against."

"Then I will." He says with a sad smile and tells me his story.

He was born into a wealthy family, but wanted to leave to understand the rest of the world. To have the freedom to travel and not be stuck to the rules of the rich.

After he told his, I told mine.

I was born in a 'normal' family, but want a life less boring and not bound by the rules of the normal. I want to see things from another side, and a more meaningful one.

It was as if some deity had made us for this moment.

After this conversation we knew what had to happen, we counted to five and then quickly swapped our masks.

I was him, he was me.

His memories flooded mine, my memories flooded his.

He had told the truth, I had told the truth.

Both happier, we shook hands and left the building.

He went to the place I came from, I to the place he came from.

I lived a happy life, one where all wishes could be granted by money. One where I was very important.

No one noticed that I wasn't the original, but the mask held the most power, so I really must have looked like him. No, I really was him.

After a couple of years I suddenly found myself... bored.

Bored of the parties.

Bored of the people.

Bored of this way of living.

After being bored for a while, I took a walk in a park and found a man sleeping on a bench.

I asked him about his life and he told me a wonderful story of his travels, but also the tragic moments that led him to this life.

Then I asked him the question that was asked to me years prior.

"Do you want to swap?"

Strangely enough he refused, wanting to keep his mistakes and dreams for himself.

Something strange happened, I felt angry with the man's answer and decided to just take his mask, without swapping.

The man died right in front of me, no I was him and I didn't die. Neither did the man born rich, his mask was in my hand.

It didn't take long for me to get bored of this life and I took another mask.

And another.

And another.

And another.

And another.

I lived life as all the masks I could get my hands on and lived old and young lives. I lived as any gender and in any condition.

Sick and healthy.

Good and bad.

I had gotten myself a secret room, where I kept the mask I didn't use often. Surprisingly there aren't that many that freely wanted to swap with me, but the first hadn't stayed the last either.

One day I sat in my secret room and looked at my trophies, my masks.

A loud knock sounded on the door.

I swapped my mask for a quiet person, but that didn't stop the outsiders getting in.

They broke down the door, so I put on another mask of an innocent.

It was the police, they had found my hideout. They didn't seem to understand why I enjoyed what I did. Angry at me and disgusted at the masks they took me with them.

How could they be so disgusted, all those people were wonderful and lived wonderful lives.

All unique, all special.

All beautiful stories.

Arriving at the prison I had gotten the name: 'The masked killer'.

Why? I hadn't killed anyone. All of them were alive as long as I wore their masks. I was them, they were me.

Then one day someone wanted to speak to me.

I sat in a room, chained to make sure I didn't do anything.

It took a few minutes for my guest to come.

When the door opened, I recognized the person immediately.

It was me.

Well the one with my original mask.

So, he kept it.

Me?

I?

He?

He sat on the other side of the interrogation table and looked at me with sorrowfilled eyes.

"What the hell have you become?" He whispered.

"You and many others."

"Why have you killed them?"

"I didn't, they are still alive." I smiled.

He shook his head: "No, you killed them."

I laughed at him.

Doesn't he know better?

Across me sits the one whom I once swapped with, he seemed unhappy with his life, with his mask.

The Masked Killer.

I was the same, so the swap seemed like a good idea, but I see now that I couldn't be any more in the wrong.

He doesn't seem to know that I am here to end him.

With this creepy grin he stares at me, unknowing of the chaos he has created nor that of the lives he ended.

His hands are bound and he seems distracted.

Now is my chance!

Almost at the same speed as that of an attacking snake I swipe the mask of his face.

.

.

.

Underneath is not like it is supposed to be, something horrible is in the place where nothing should be.

Something dangerous.

The man on the other side of the table laughs maniacally.

Cold sweat runs down my back.

"It seems that sometimes these masks protect the world from what's underneath it."

The walls are bleeding

My most recent short horror story.

Word count: 724

Trigger warning: Blood (who would have guessed)

It was just half an hour when it happened.

I had come to the decision that my house was in need of a rather intense cleanup.

Starting with the living room, I took out all the junk and other stuff and then started cleaning.

I glanced at the wallpaper, pained by how ugly it truly is without any of my stuff cluttering around it. This wallpaper had belonged to the previous owners, it hasn't been too long ago since I had moved in and I hadn't really taken the time to change it.

So what's a better time than now?

I walked towards one of the walls that was facing away from the windows, took a chair to stand on and placed my fingers over the paper's exterior.

It was a strange sensation, is this really paper? I thought to myself.

I hesitated.

Lowering my hands again and just stared for a moment.

Then other thoughts started to convince me to continue: This must be some kind of fancy wallpaper I don't know about. Fancy, but ugly, that explains the texture. I should remove it.

No, it needs to be removed!

Again I raised my hands and started by putting my fingers in between the wall and the wall at a place where it was already slightly loose.

Suddenly I noticed that I was touching something wet and sticky. Something of which I was certain that it couldn't be glue.

I swiftly retrieved my hand only to find the tips of my fingers to be soaked crimson red.

There's no doubt about it...

It's blood.

I immediately got down from the chair and ran towards the phone.

I need to call the police! Was the only thought running through my head.

Dialling the number, it luckily didn't take long for someone to pick up. I told them about the situation and that it was making me fear for my safety. I was told to wait by the door and open it for them.

A little later the doorbell finally rang, I felt a bit underwhelmed when I saw that they had sent just a single officer to check in on me.

Had they thought me mad?

"Good morning sir, Please show me what you found." He greeted me.

I took the man into my living room and showed him the spot.

"Good God..." He murmured.

He reached for his walkie-talkie and pressed a button.

"This is officer Green... Send to the bleeding house alert. I'm in need of backup. Over."

Some white noise left the small object, but nothing audible.

"This is officer Green. Does anyone copy. Over." He seemed to be slightly panicking.

Drip...

Drip...

I heard something coming down from upstairs and it didn't sound very good.

"Sir, I got to check something real quick." I said to the officer, though I don't believe he heard me at all. He seemed to be caught up in the buzzing of his communication device.

I ran up the stairs.

The dripping seemed to come from the bathroom.

Opening the door I found something horrifying.

Instead of water, blood was dripping out of the faucet.

Slowly filling up the tub with the dark coloured liquid.

I tried closing the faucet, but it only got worse.

Blood started pouring out.

I left again quickly, closing the door thoroughly behind me, trying to forget about what I had just seen and proceeded to my bedroom.

This wasn't in any way better.

I felt cold when I stepped into a lukewarm puddle of the sticky substance.

It was coming down from the walls, dripping, colouring and messing with all the furniture in it.

Entering the small hallway again, the walls had taken a colour of dark red as well.

Careful not to slip, I made my way back downstairs again.

"Sir, have you reached your colleagues yet?" I frantically ask the officer standing facing the wall quietly.

Something is wrong though.

Something about him seems so much different than how he was before.

The air around him...

In his hands he's holding a big piece of wallpaper and he's covered in blood.

Without looking my way, he starts talking.

"Perhaps this is its way of cleansing itself."

His voice sounds different too.

"What the hell do you mean?!"

"Usually when a wound is bleeding, it is in a way cleaning itself. The bigger the wound, the less chance of infection. The dirt will be washed away by the blood itself."

I feel anger and panic boiling up in my body: "Are you trying to say that I'm the cause of this?!"

For a moment there's silence, but then he shrugs.

"Nah, I wouldn't know that."

Plastic mannequin city

A short horror story I wrote a while ago:)

Word count: 849

TW: Blood, insanity, body horror

As artificial light enters the shop, I start to get ready for the people who will be visiting soon.

I hang the new clothes on the plastic hangers on which they're supposed to be and clean in and around the store. Most of the clothes here are made of polyester, nylon or acrylic.

"We will open soon." I hear my colleague whisper in my ear.

I nod in response and help out with putting out the plastic signs.

As the store slowly starts to get flooded with customers I take my place behind the counter and finish some more chores before someone comes to me to buy something.

After a good few minutes some come to pay for the clothes they deem fit to their bodies.

"Do you want to pay with card?" I ask.

"Do you need a bag with it?" I ask after.

"Do you want the receipt?"

Some of them don't like the questions and get annoyed, asking me not to ask them. Unfortunately my memory isn't good enough to remember who asked who. After a long time, their grey faces have become nothing but a blur in my dreams.

They all look the same after all.

The faces of mannequins are difficult to remember after all...

Every time I scan something the cash register makes an annoying bleep, one that keeps getting more and more annoyed the longer the day continues on, making me thankful for the mask I wear.

A client thinks I'm doing my job wrong and swears at me. I've been working here for a while now, so compliments are hard to come by.

I have a few colleagues who do get many, they look a lot like the customers, other colleagues usually leave soon after starting.

I wonder how long I can hold out...

A couple of hours later I swap places and start working more throughout the store, it's a big one, but I will manage.

I have to...

Customers with their plastic grey faces come to me for questions now.

With their long thin bodies they ask me how much something is, if we have something in another size or even if something makes them look fat.

That last one always surprises me, their plastic bodies all look the same.

They're taller than me.

They're tinner than me.

They're much more beautiful than me.

Is this their way of calling me out?

Do they like asking me these questions in order to mess with me?

I've had enough of that by my colleagues already.

I get sent to the storage room.

Did I do something wrong?

Did I make a mistake I didn't know of?

Or is there something that really needs to be done there?

Please just let it be that!

I turn on the light, it's one for a rather big storage. Unlike everything outside, this light is powered by gas and it's old, very old.

The shadows this light creates always scare me a bit.

The shadows look almost like the mannequins outside.

They look down on me condescendingly.

They judge me.

Their glares are so cold they send me shivering.

I start unpacking boxes, one after one, I do it as perfectly as possible.

I don't want to lose this job.

Suddenly the knife I'm holding for the boxes glides into my hand.

I wince out of pain and am just able to stop myself from cursing.

Thick, dark red drips onto the ground, staining the white plastic floor with the fluid.

A dark thought enters my mind: Perhaps in order to overcome my fear, I should become it.

I look down on my quivering hands.

Could I replace them to become like them?

Could I replace my skin and have a plastic layer instead?

To have no eyes, no nose and no mouth.

To be perfect, just like them.

Would it hurt or bite as the hot plastic would creep up my fleshy arms and legs.

Would I feel pain at all after the procedure and be perfect?

Would I be able to join them after it and be able to get just as many compliments and love?

But then again in all truth, I don't like their perfection.

Their perfection is one of arrogance.

In fact, I think I might even hate it.

I've tried so hard to become like them for such a long time.

I wear a mask to have my face look like them, I skip my lunches in order to become thinner like them.

But all of it...

All of it is for nothing.

It doesn't matter how hard I work, no one will ever accept me.

No one will ever care.

I shouldn't become like them to overcome my fear, I should become something far worse.

Something only I can be, something they can never be.

The floor beneath my feet seems cracked all of a sudden, cracked on the place on which I am standing.

The Gaslamp flickers approvingly, like it tells me to do what I want to do.

I don't remember the last time someone or something said something nice to me or even approved of an idea of mine.

But this lamp, the only real one in this entire building does.

I drop the mask and it shatters into a thousand pieces.

I love the noise it makes as it hits the ground.

Will they make that noise too?

I look down to the object in my hand.

I wonder what color they would bleed.

Book of the Apocalypse - Chapter 4 Nightmare

TW: Gore, blood

Word count: 778

First chapter:

I look up from the book, this wasn't really the kind of story I was suspecting.

"How far did you get?" Quiller asks me not hiding his interest at all.

"I finished... the first."

He sighs: "Not the fastest reader, are you?"

I look at him, annoyed: "I read at my own speed.... reading just like eating? The slower you read, the more you... enjoy it."

"Alright, alright. So, did you-?"

"Nah."

"What?"

"I thought... it was going to be cooler, maybe something with heroes. Even a book about a ghost might... be interesting."

Utter defeat is written all over the 'imaginary' guys face, making me chuckle.

"You're mean."

"Kind people in an apocalypse are useless."

He looks at me for a moment and then asks: "So, you're going to throw it out now?"

I look at him: "Nah. It might become more... entertwini- entertaining later on." Speaking is still difficult, especially when I try to speak without mistakes.

He gives me a sad smile.

"Why do you care?"

He hesitates for a moment to answer.

"Well, like I said, It's a pretty good book."

I nod: "Yeah, you really aren't the... writer, right?"

He looks at me in shock: "N-no... I mean..."

"Just kidding, It just said Ex Libra's Q.F. Shannon. But that might mean it used to be yours." I'm not sure, but believe I might have used a wrong word there.

"I've never owned anything." Quiller protests: "I've always been imaginary."

If I were to throw away this book right now, I would probably lose my imaginary friend with it. Or at least that is my theory. I only met him after opening this thing after all.

Yeah, it might be strange for an adult to have one. But if this keeps me from going insane, then so be it.

I will be the most childish adult in this entire apocalypse.

Even if I'm all alone in it now.

I get up from the couch and start placing traps around.

"What are you doing?"

"Making sure I won't get... my sleep disturbed... by one of those... those half-dead jerks."

"I see." Quiller mutters, slightly hesitant probably due to me cursing again.

I lie down on the old couch.

Even though it's all dusty, I haven't had such a nice bed in ages.

I've gotten used to my jacket on the floor for a while now and it doesn't take long for me to fall asleep.

I'm sitting in something I recognize as a car.

I seem to be sitting here with a bunch of people with wiped out faces.

Even though that is the case I feel strangely at ease with them.

One of them turns to me and calls me by my name.

"Yes?" I ask and the other shows me a toy, a toy car? If I'm correct.

I look outside the windows and notice that we're driving.

We move around the corner and I see strange people standing outside.

Their eyes glow strangely blue.

The car crashes into something and the strange people outside start running towards us, their mouths covered in blood.

From one moment to the next, I notice that I'm standing outside and it's dark.

It's raining outside.

I hold up my hand to the rain.

It drips onto it and then a flickering streetlight shows me that there is something wrong with the rain.

It's red.

It's thick and red.

Falling out if the heavens like rain, blood keeps pouring down.

It starts to stick to the streetlight, making the only light in my world slowly disappear.

I run towards it for rescue, but it all turns dark just before I can reach it.

In the distance I hear growling...

My eyes flash open and I quickly sit up, completely out of breath.

What a horrible nightmare.

I guess even though I have a decent place to sleep, the nightmares are something I will never be able to get away from.

I look at the light entering the room via the clock.

I guess it's morning already.

This must be a good place to stay then.

I sit up and silently take out the old, worn map from it.

With a pen I mark the spot and write 'Clock/Attic' next to it, while using the book as support for the paper.

"Good morning." Quiller says, seeming a bit down.

"'Morning." I whisper, while looking at him questioningly.

"Don't worry, nothing happened while you were asleep. You did seem to be having a nightmare."

I shake my head: "What did you expect?" I nudge my head a little towards the window: "Be happy for the strength we gained from... a little shut-eye."

Unfortunately he doesn't seem to want to take the joke as a joke. Perhaps he didn't even notice.

"Life shouldn't be like this." He mumbles more to himself than to me.

I look at him with a sudden question burning in my mind: "Did you sleep on the floor? Or float?"

"Float? I'm not a ghost you know."

"Oh really?"

"I'm just a figment of your imagination."

"You keep that up, but really... it's getting harder to believe every time."

Angelic monster

A short horro story I wrote:)

TW: Blood & psychological horror

I've been such a coward.

Never before have I stooped this low.

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

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

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

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

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

I dislike this feeling.

I hate this memory.

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

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

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

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

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

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

That's when they found out.

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

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

If I could go back in time...

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

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

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

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

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

A monster that could destroy cities with ease.

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

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

Now years later, the monster sits before me.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And now it sits before me, eerily calm.

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

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

I can feel myself growing irritated by its tone.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I hate it.

I hate this monster.

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

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

"Be more clear."

"Yes, professor, I'm sorry."

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

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

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

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

"Go on."

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

"Continue." I say glaring at the monster.

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

"Yes, we noticed with the rat."

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

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

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

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

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

"Awoke?"

"The moment I heard their screams."

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

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

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

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

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

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

No that can't be.

For a moment it remains silent.

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

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

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

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

Somehow the monster remains completely calm.

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

"SHUT UP!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

in the rain

A short horror story I wrote

Word count: 1848

TW: Blood, death, confusion

The sound of the gentle tapping of the rain on my window awakens me.

Just by glancing over at the window I can see the dark autumn sky even though it must still be around noon.

Slowly I get up from the couch, I must have dozed off for a minute or so.

I walk over to my kitchen to see if there is anything to eat.

Opening all the cabinets and finally the freezer, I discover that I'm all out of food.

Damn, I forgot, it's grocery day today... and I still have to go out with this shitty weather.

Still I ready myself to go outside, I take my dark green raincoat and a bag.

I put on my shoes and finally leave, locking the door behind me, walking towards the nearest bus stop.

I know I'm being lazy, walking that distance can be done in about half an hour, but still this weather seems to only be getting worse.

As I turn around to face the weather I feel the cool breeze going through my coat and the water gliding off my face.

A greeting from the outside, a cold and wet greeting.

Quickly I make a run for the bus stop.

Each time one of my feet hit the middle of a puddle, the water flies around me, making me feel like a little kid playing in the rain.

It takes a couple of minutes for me to reach the small square hut, known locally as the bus stop.

I live in the middle of nowhere anyway.

As I finally lay eyes on it I almost dive for cover under the roof.

I know it doesn't really matter, I'm already soaked, but still, it brings me comfort.

Immediately I notice that I'm not alone.

Someone else is standing beside me.

Most likely also waiting for the bus to come.

Their face is obscured by their coat... Their dark green coat.

Did he get it at the same store as me?

For a while we awkwardly stand next to each other, not speaking a word, or perhaps letting the rain itself do the talking.

Cold seconds pass slowly and eventually I can't take it anymore.

"So... uhh... the weather is pretty bad, éh?"

I know the question is bad, small talk is not everyone's favorite, but worse than that, I don't get a response at all.

And we are back at listening to the rain and just standing next to one another, but this one more awkwardly than before.

The person next to me didn't show any sign of even hearing me.

Finally the bus arrives and I get on.

I look back, but the person behind me doesn't seem to be moving in the slightest.

Does he even breathe? I really can't tell.

"Hey man? Didn't you need to take the bus too?" I call over to him, gesturing that he can go in, but again he doesn't move at all.

I shake my head and then turn it towards the bus driver.

Unlike the usual uniform, they seem to be wearing another dark green raincoat. Almost exactly like mine, or perhaps it's completely the same...

I show the chauffeur my ticket, but he doesn't move a muscle.

Quietly I turn around to look further inside the vehicle.

It's almost completely empty, except for a few strangers dressed with the same dark green jacket.

For a moment I hesitate.

Do I really want to be on this bus?

But then the squeaking doors behind me close, cutting off my only escape route.

Obediently I take a seat, trying not to look around me and just stare out of the window.

When the bus finally comes to a halt at my stop I get out as fast as I can.

Strangely enough this is the first stop it made, no one got on and no one got off.

As I step outside, I am greeted by more rain, falling down even heavier than before.

Quickly I race towards the store and feel a sense of relief wash over me as I finally reach the entrance and hear the familiar chime.

The bright light hurts my eyes, it's a lot brighter than outside after all.

I let out a shivering sigh from the cold. It might be less warm here than outside, or perhaps it's because of how wet my clothes have gotten.

The water has gone right through my coat after all.

I notice my breath leaving my mouth in small clouds and rub my hands together for some warmth.

I guess it must be cold here after all.

Carefully I look around, it seems that I'm the only customer inside the store.

I should probably hurry up, I'm not sure if there will be many buses leaving after I'm done with shopping.

I take a shopping cart and start to move around the store.

Taking with me things for breakfast, things for lunch, things for dinner and of course some snacks.

Eventually I find myself next to an aisle that's entirely empty.

"How strange..." I mutter to myself: "I was sure these were filled just last week..."

I take a few steps back, towards the fridges where they keep milk and stuff.

Something about it seems off.

Carefully I take a closer look.

It looks like all the cartons of milk from the highest shelf to the lowest have all been cut in half in a straight row.

No, cut isn't the word.

More like half of it has been melted off.

The contents are spilled all over the floor.

As I inspect the next row, I see that these all have half-faded packaging.

I look up to find a huge dark stain on the ceiling above it, water is slowly dripping down onto those products and the floor.

It's almost as if the rain is washing it all away.

Quickly I leave for the check-out and find another one behind the counter.

A person, dressed with the same raincoat as mine, somehow still with a faded nametag on their chest, too faded to read.

Honestly it looks a bit silly.

Their hood is up and they look down, causing me to be unable to see their face just like with the others before.

I greet the 'worker' like normal even though he doesn't move at all and I hand them the money, which they don't take either, so I place it before them.

"Keep the change." I say, trying to joke away the fear I feel inside.

That is the truth after all.

I'm scared.

I'm terrified.

I'm terrified, but I don't want to let it show.

Everything about this day has been strange.

Normally I don't fall asleep during the day, normally I don't take the bus to the store, normally I don't stand waiting for a bus with a stranger...

Then there's the fact I haven't seen a single familiar face since I woke up. Why isn't anyone here when usually this store is filled with people I know?

I pick up the pace, too scared to look behind me.

What if they did move?

What if they did move, but only if I wasn't facing them.

What if they were right behind me, staring at me from underneath those hoods?

What if they wanted to do something to me?

I shake my head and enter the rainy and windy outside world again.

The rainfall has gotten even heavier.

I can barely keep my eyes open from all the water pouring down, only able to open them again as I blindly enter the bus stop.

This time I'm alone.

Though I doubt if that really is the case.

I mean, what if they're watching?

While waiting for the bus to come I look at my sleeve.

The dark green fabric has been completely soaked.

Why is it that we all wear the same? I think to myself.

Where and when did I even buy such an ugly thing?

I have another one, a blue one... right?

No, now that I think about it I'm not so sure.

This rain... it's making it difficult to remember.

The bus finally arrives for me to go home again.

Trying to avoid the spats coming from the sky, but failing, I enter the vehicle.

It's cold here too.

Like in the store small clouds leave my shivering mouth.

I look at the driver.

It's one of them again.

Or am I supposed to be one of them?

My coat shows our resemblance.

My hood is still up too.

I take it off and smile at the driver.

"Good afternoon sir, bad weather we're having, don't we?"

Suddenly I hear something moving in the back of the bus.

Multiple people dressed like me are sitting there, more than before.

All of them seem to stare at me from underneath their dark hoods.

I smile at them too, but now that I'm looking at them too they have stopped moving again completely.

The door behind me closes and I take a seat.

Everything feels so unwelcoming, it makes me feel a bit sad.

Looking outside of the window I appreciate the beautifully dreary scenery from my home.

It looks like the water levels have been rising far.

Much further than it normally would.

Almost like the water is trying to swallow it all up.

I'm glad I live up high.

We drive past a small cliff.

I look down at the water through the window.

The rain is still relentlessly hitting the windows, coming down unforgivingly at the windows, making me scared that it could shatter them any moment.

It has become a droning noise overtaking any thought I might have had as suddenly, I feel light.

Everything starts feels like going in hyper speed.

The bus has made a turn.

A turn off the cliff.

And we hit the water before I even realized what was going on.

It's all going so fast and yet, none of them moved even an inch.

All of the other 'passengers' keep sitting the way they sat before, not even trembling because of the fall. Making it look like they were plastic figures glued to their respective benches.

Windows break and water starts to pour in even faster than the rain.

Loudly I curse and get up from my seat in a daze.

My head is pounding terribly, did I hit something?

I'm not sure.

It just hurts.

The vehicle starts to sink and I start to panic.

A heavy tree branch falls through one of the small windows in the ceiling.

I jump back, but then see that it has shattered the entire window and created a way for me to get out.

The water is rising higher and higher and I reach for the window.

Now the people in the bus do start to move.

In a strange and shocking way.

Moving like they have never used a limb before.

Crawling around, stumbling around, a strange form of swimming.

Shit!

They're coming for me!

They're coming for me!!

They get closer and closer with their strange movements.

Trying to wrap their arms around me.

As I feel their freezing cold fingers touch me I kick around me as hard as I can.

"Stay away!" I yell: "Stay the Hell away!!"

Desperately I hold on to the branch.

The first few already have their hands wrapped around my ankles.

"Let me go!!!" I yell, kicking and screaming.

More hands.

And then they start to grip and pull.

The gray light from the sky starts to grow distant, my head is getting closer to the water.

The heavy rain has started pushing me down now too.

Pushing back my hands, letting me slide back down.

I've never seen or even felt a rain storm this heavy, it feels like it's trying to get rid of me.

Trying to clean this place by getting rid of me.

Like a ghost town being washed away by the rain...

The library

Books are scary...

A story I wrote about someone stuck in a strange library.

TW: Psychological horror, gore

Only darkness.

No memories.

No thoughts.

No feelings.

No 'me'.

All of a sudden a bright light fills the place.

It is so bright that I can't see anything.

I?

Me?

As my eyes adjust to the light, I notice that I am in a library.

It is not a normal library, the bookcases look like trees, with their branches reaching far up.

Their leaves, all different, give the room a dreamlike feeling.

The roots which are growing all over the floor are connecting all the trees together.

The floor where I awoke is covered in a beautiful mosaic.

The light is coming from two big windows with stained glass, one above me and the other on the wall I'm facing.

It is not like how it is in a church, the stained glass is in much more colors and the image is something I can't really understand

It looks really vague, but maybe that was the intention.

Carefully I stand up and walk towards the nearest bookcase.

There are many, many books.

None of them seem to be sorted in any way, the genres couldn't be any more different and none of them are in alphabetical order. Not the titles or the writers.

It's a bit of a mess honestly, some of the books aren't even placed properly on the shelves.

As I walk around the room, I notice that there are no doors present.

How did I even get here?

I have no bruises or wounds and I don't remember being kidnapped, so that probably isn't it.

But neither do I remember coming here out of free-will...

I should investigate more.

As I look around I notice one other strange thing, it's one of the bookcases.

Just like the others it looks like a tree, but it looks like it has been dead for a long time. There are no leaves on the finger-like branches and it almost looks like it has been burned.

Still it is connected to all the others by the roots.

When I take a step closer, I can unexpectedly feel something...

Something bad.

An emotion?

A memory?

I don't know, but for now I shall leave it be.

I walk to another bookcase, this one has many children's books.

From bedtime stories, to those of wild adventures.

From fairytales to informative books.

And then there are the books without an author.

Carefully I take one out.

It is heavy and rather dusty, so I clean it off and open it with care.

It is someone's childhood.

Mine maybe, but it could also be someone else's.

I just don't know.

The pages are filled, everything is written to the furthest detail.

Every day, what happened, what they ate, people they met.

As careful as I took it out, I place it back in the bookcase.

I take out another, but similar book, again it is about the same child. Most of the other characters in it seemed to be the same as in the last book.

I can see now, why there are this many books, they must all be about this person's life.

So all these books are sorted! Not by genre or writer, but by date!

Quite proud of myself for figuring that out all by myself I continue on to another bookcase.

In it are a lot of schoolbooks and a couple of story books, these don't look as much for children as the previous. Most of them are too difficult or scary.

And again I open a random book from the ones without an author.

It is about a teenager, I think this might have been the child from the other bookcase before.

The same as before, everything is written to the finest detail.

The places they went to and the lessons they learned.

The bookcase after is about an adult, whom most likely has been the child and the teenager at some point.

This is by far the one with the most books, they must have enjoyed reading very much.

Same as before, the authorless book I take of a shelf is written into the smallest details.

About where they traveled to where they bought a house.

About losses and new lives.

I truly wonder who could have written these and all I am left with is the ability to wonder about who all these people are or were.

Although all of this is quite nice to read, my curiosity grows towards the 'dead' bookcase.

It has started making noises.

Scratching.

And something like speech.

I can't understand it though, it is all too muffled.

Quietly I walk towards the tree, step by step I get closer.

When I am close enough, I can see that none of these books have an author.

As I stand close enough, the sounds suddenly come to a halt and I place my hand on one of the books to take it out.

Slowly and with as much care as the others I take it from the dead tree.

This book is different from the rest, it is way heavier than it looks and the cover has been all scratched up. I am not sure if it was done with a knife or fingernails.

Or maybe it could have been teeth?

Vigilant of anything I can think of, I open the book.

As soon as I do, the scratching starts again and the muffled noises sound more like screams.

In this book are bad memories.

Fear.

Discomfort.

Sadness

Jealousy.

Pain.

Hate.

The handwriting in this book is terrible, more like someone scratched it in.

As I try to read what the words say, the tree starts to shake.

Quickly I take a few steps back.

Veins start to appear in the tree, filled with a strange growing color.

The roots of the other connected trees start to die, causing them to all drop their leaves.

Before they hit the ground they turn red and then turn into blood as they fall, splashing and making the mosaic disappear underneath the dark liquid.

Suddenly the first bookcase catches fire, burning all books with it in an instant.

Then burns the second and after that the third.

Before I can do anything, all the bookcases have been burned to ashes.

The blood washes over them, making even the last bits disappear.

All the books are gone and now I am only left with the dead tree.

The roots grow rapidly and start to cover the windows, until I am back in complete darkness again.

Only this time with all the awful memories.

The tree

The most recent short horror story I wrote:)

Word count: 722

TW: Psychological horror

Rain mixed salt with fresh water.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She's barefoot and looks dirty.

Her eyes are red from crying.

I estimate her age to be around 14.

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

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

She nods, still trembling.

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

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

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

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

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

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

I return home and close the door behind me.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The mirror room

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

I hope you like it.

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

Word count: 1495

TW: Ghosts

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

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

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

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

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

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

The mirror room.

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

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

That's strange.

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

I'm sure my uncle closed them before.

How did they open?

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

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

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

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

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

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

I look around.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Should I really be here?

At this time?

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

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

Whispering.

Footsteps.

It is behind me.

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

Not my uncle or my aunt.

Not my niece trying to prank me.

Something is wrong, I am missing one other.

.

.

.

I am missing.

My reflection is not there.

It starts getting colder.

It turns my breath into small silver clouds.

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

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

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

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

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

There shouldn't be anyone.

I am alone.

I am really alone.

There is no one else.

Just me in this empty room.

Calming myself doesn't seem to work that well.

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

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

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

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

No answer, everyone is asleep of course.

No one can hear me.

No one can help me.

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

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

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

Even the moon has gone.

Those are not the only things that are wrong.

The angels on the ceiling.

They are watching me.

Following me with their eyes.

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

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

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

Gently I place my palm against the cold surface.

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

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

No I didn't.

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

Wait, where is the rest of the room?

I am only surrounded by mirrors.

No windows.

No door.

Just me and the shadows from the mirrors.

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

Then they float out of their mirrors.

I am surrounded.

As they get closer, my panic grows.

Closer.

Closer.

Closer.

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

But they keep coming.

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

I hit.

I kick.

I scream.

They won't let go.

One of them starts getting really close to my face.

I can see it.

The ash grey skin.

The holes for eyes and mouth are much too big.

The eyes and mouth are filled with an endless abyss.

Still I keep on fighting.

They take me by my arms and legs.

Then my throat.

I scream until I can't anymore.

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

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

Closer.

Closer.

Without stopping.

What do they want from me?

My vision gets overrun with dark spots.

Is this the end?

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

Help...

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

Please, someone help me!

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

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

I can breathe again.

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

My head is pounding and so is my heart.

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

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

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

The violin is still playing.

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

One of the masked people approaches me.

A girl around the same age as me.

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

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

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

"Would you like to dance with me?"