just thought i'd share this little short story i wrote with you, from what i've been told there is SOME degree of copyright on it :badgrin: , so just tell me what you think ...oh yes, the genre is horror. Wind blew. It blew through the still Autumn air, whistling through the old, gnarled boughs of the great ash trees. Some of those trees retained what leaves the season permitted them to, while others stood bare and barren. Dead and broken leaves covered the ground, fallen and conquered by nature. The wood was thick with thin, straight ash trees and briar thorns, which seemed to harbour as much malice as the forest itself. And for all it’s ugly, bland botany this wood played host to no flowers. Or colour. Or joy. It had been this way since the those dreadful events took place at the old wooden bridge not two hundred yards from the forest’s edge. Those events occurred several years ago, around the time of young Jesse Nath’s tenth birthday… It was summer. August fifteenth. School was out, the sun was bright, the weather was hot, what could be a better atmosphere for a child’s birthday? However, all this was soon to change as and idyllic summer afternoon became a nightmare. Jesse was a mature girl for her age. Instead of playing tag she played chess. Instead of watching children’s television she learned piano. Some called her a prodigy. She could have been a great woman of medicine, or a renowned scientist. Which made it all the more tragic that her life, full of hope and promise for the future, was cut so brutally short. It was a terribly hot day, and as such the children of the town roamed free, not confined within those tombs of bricks and mortar that the adults called houses. Jesse had invited several friends over for her birthday: Heather, Laura, Sophie and Beth. Jesse was past the stage of large parties, and so she had kept this one modest. Instead of standing around a frosted cake with party hats and noise-makers, they decided to head down to the creek. It was a popular spot that creek. Children would go there to play, to sit and talk, or to wade through the gently flowing water. It was strange, however, in that you would never see anyone but yourself and those who came with you if you were to go down there. The wood seemed to have a way to play with people’s minds. It always seemed as if you were alone when you were in that wood. If only. Poor Jesse Nath’s untimely death gives testament to the fact that no one is quite alone in those woods. But I digress. Back to the morbid and macabre tale of Jesse and her equally unfortunate friends. They were heading down to the creek for a picnic, or so it was said on the news reports, of which there were many. It’s not often a murder is this gruesome. The papers were sure to leap on this story like a lion onto an antelope. What could be sweeter than five young girls heading down the an innocent brook for a birthday picnic? Nothing. Two hours after they had left, one of the girls turned up at her parent’s house, her face and hair caked in blood. Not hers. She never stopped crying for hours, and she was hysterical for much longer, and ended up severely traumatised by the experience. Once she calmed down, or enough so that she could communicate with even the slightest sliver of clarity, the investigating officers were able to make sense of her story. To summarise; they were having a wonderful time. Talking, laughing, enjoying themselves in general. That was all until they heard something approaching. Leaves crunching, twigs snapping, the general sound of anything walking through a wood. They thought it was a person, and called out to them. Who (or what) ever they were they remained hidden. So, as you would, the girls went to investigate, but found nothing. Perplexed, but not too shaken, they carried on with their business. Then there came a great booming sound, like a great deep drum being beaten far off in the woods. The birds from nearby trees flew away, terrified. The ambient sound disappeared. No crickets. No birdsong. No breeze. They were scared. They ran. Something…something flew through the air. It hit Heather. Blood sprayed. Everyone screamed. They ran faster, no longer driven purely by fear but by the body’s will to survive. But the flesh was weak. And susceptible to assault. They couldn’t have survived, no matter how strong their will. It was only when she was telling their story to the officer that it occurred to her that the others were still somewhere out there. She lost sight of them in her flight. Everyone said they had probably returned home, but she could tell they were lying, trying to console her, to calm her nerves. She overheard the officers talking about launching a search effort to find the missing girls, but she knew in her heart that they were long beyond saving. Two days later, they found the first of the girls. Lying face down in the creek. The immediate assumption was that the cause of death was drowning. But not only did the autopsy reveal there was no water in her lungs, but they also found a sizeable rusty axe-head embedded in her back. The entry wound was so impossibly small, no one had considered any possible cause of death other than drowning. The next day, they found the other two girls. Not fifty yards down the creek from the picnic site, there was a rock formation named Divel’s Rock. Needless to say, it was also recognised as Devil’s Rock. It consisted of an underwater stone outcrop, which rose up to mere inches under the water’s surface, making a series of smooth, black stepping stones. At the other side of the water, the stone continued on to make a cave in the steep hillside. Not a big cave. Maybe two metres wide, about four deep. The bodies were found in there. Lying in a pool of their own congealed blood, they were roped together, back to back, bound together at the wrists and ankles. Their bodies were picked clean. To the bone. However, it was strange in that there were no scratches or holes to be found on the bones. No marks like teeth or a blade would leave. There were many more details, but these were considered to distressing to be released. Something involving buttons. But, in more recent news, the stranger who shall remain nameless (tragic and untimely deaths lose their sting somewhat if the story of the event is kept…impersonal.) was striding with misplaced confidence through those same woods, heading for the same creek where so many people dared not stray. Heading in the rough direction of the old wooden bridge that spanned the flowing river which held so many terrors for so many people. And so many of those horrors were dug so firmly into the minds of locals that the very woods at the edge of the town had become a place as undesirable to visit as the very depths of hell itself. But there was one place that held yet more horror in it’s old grey bricks and ivy-covered walls than that river of blood. This place was roughly three hundred yards beyond the bridge. It was an old mansion house, where horrific and terrifying events had occurred. Ritual sacrifices of small children and animals. Not killings. Sacrifices. Sacrifices to some infernal god or gods. This case was never solved as that house had never hosted any residents since before anyone could remember. And there was no evidence to convict anyone. The accounts of the investigations today still collect dust, filed as a ‘cold case’. Religious residents of that ill-begotten town considered the old house as evil eye, gazing at the town from the very depths of hell. Judging them. On the other hand, the more scientific minds described the house as “The mirror by which they judge themselves.” But back to the woe-begotten tale of this unfortunate being: The wind blew. It shifted the branches of the old ash trees. It shifted leaf and twig, and blew through the hair and in the face of the poor soul striding through those woods. The stranger knew something was wrong. Everything was wrong in those woods. There was little wind in that area. At all. Yet, it always seemed to blow in those woods. Always. Not merely did it chill people’s bones and skin, but it chilled their hearts. Their souls. Their minds. Made them….scared. More susceptible to frights. But not this person, no. for them in was welcome relief from the blazing sun outside of the boughs and branches of that forest. They were almost at the bridge they were headed to. There was another more conveniently placed bridge. But it was struck by lightning. No elaboration this time. Just lightning. Of course, our unnamed protagonist was undaunted by any of these events. Their mind had been polluted by science and logic, not healthy superstition. They rationalised the events of years past and took them with a pinch of salt. Except this pinch of salt was set to leap up behind their back and devour them. They walked through the woods. Down the gentle slope. Through the leaves. They stood on a twig concealed under the layer of dead leaves. It made a sharp, surprisingly loud cracking sound. They paused. Though they were not terrified to enter this wood, they were only human. They were considering running back, but then paused. Far away, they heard another rustling of leaves. And an answering crack. They couldn’t see what made the sounds, but it sounded heavy. The stranger waited…and waited…but there were no more sounds. So, unnerved but undaunted, they carried on, but with more caution. More carefully. Quietly. Within ten minutes they reached the bridge. It was a slightly higher bridge than the other one, for this bridge was built over a point in the river where steep slopes reared up on both sides. Raised about twenty feet above the surface of the water, it was a daunting thing to cross. But they made it across. More’s the pity. On the other side, the woods were much the same. Same ash trees, same breeze, same briars, same leaf-covered floor. Utterly boring. Equally threatening. There were many paths of trodden earth, or off-road trails, but they knew better than to follow them. No good came from following anything in this wood’s dominion. Eventualy, the trees thinned, and soon disappeared, their withered, foreboding forms only to be replaced by the grim silhouette of the aforementioned mansion house. The nameless stranger walked up to the rusted iron gates. On either side of the gate stood stone columns on which perched horrific gargoyles, terrifying in their weather-beaten solemnity. Moving on from the foreboding entrance to the terrible place, the grounds inside were surprisingly well-kept. Neat, even lawns. Well-arranged flower beds. Yellow gravel paths, and the occasional water sculpture. But despite it’s bright cheery appearance, it all seems drab, bleak. Somehow…sad. As if the life had disappeared from the place a long time ago. Closing on the house, our antagonist crept up to the window on the ground floor, close to the large double doors. Looking inside, the room was bare to the dusty floorboards. All there was in that room was an old rocking chair, and some moth-eaten colourless curtains. It’s door was half-open, and light could be seen in the hallway beyond. Not daylight. Or candlelight. Or an electric bulb. Not that anyone had even gone near that house since electricity was invented. Not wanting to linger at the window of that room for fear of death via boredom, the stranger started to turn away and move on, but suddenly she heard a sound coming from the hall beyond the room. Dashing back to the windowsill, they ducked down in an effort to remain unseen. They then realised the sound was the creaking of floorboards, mixed with a strange sound like, like…like a broom brushing against a floor. A strange shape moved across the doorway, blotting out the light. As the sound faded, the stranger was left in silent awe and fear. Whatever that thing was, the shadow was terrifying. The strange shadow had been the last straw, and our protagonist decided to head back. But the sky was darkening. And she had not yet done what they set out to do. However, they decided that it was best to run. Until they reached the outskirts of the forest, and they saw something within that made them cringe with fear. The wood was dark inside. Foggy. And frightening. But she was not scared by this foreboding atmosphere, and was quite prepared to go back that way. Although no necessarily without quickening her pace a tad. But then, suddenly, a twig snapped in the wood. Not a distant crack far away, but a sharp snap from just within the tree line. There was, without question, something in there. A being. But it’s body was as yet unrevealed. The only inclination of it’s presence was the rustling of branches and snapping of twigs. The stranger’s mind flashed back to the events of 1993, and the events that girl had claimed to have borne witness to. And from her account, they all started with this same ominous, faceless presence. The sounds. The fact it was unseen. So, absolutely mind-shatteringly, terrified, the stranger ran. Up the gentle slope, to the mansion. As soon as she crossed the threshold she slammed the gate and legged it up the gravel path to the woodworm-infested, rotten front doors. Seeking salvation in the most unlikely of places, she leapt inside and slammed the door closed. The hallway was bare, and so there was nought with which to wedge the doors shut. However, no sounds came from outside. Indeed, there had been no inclination that she had been followed even up to the gates. After she had caught her breath, and regained what composure the situation allowed, she moved on. Opening the door a crack, she saw that outside the weather was terrible. Pouring rain, thunder, and a sky as black as pitch. In the distance she could see the faint lights of the town beyond the woods. The town which feared this place with such vigour that they would, on such nights as this, close the curtains of every window which gazed this way. The residents of that town all had too little courage to even come close to here…or maybe they had too much sense. Either way, they were all at home safely tucked away watching their soap operas an their television sets…very favourable to being stuck here with a beastly, inhuman presence haunting the woods around you, while you cower in the house in which no less than thirteen ritualistic murders had been committed… The story of those killings goes something like this: once upon a time an old hermit lived in the woods, on the side of the river closest to the mansion. That was all anyone knew. Soon, children started to go missing. As soon as the tenth child disappeared, the townspeople realised that they had all been seen last heading into the woods. Soon, suspicion turned to the hermit, Cam Denverson. The police searched his shack, but found no evidence to convict him. So, like any small tight-knit community anywhere would do, they decided to deal out their own vigilante justice. They broke into his unconventional dwelling with makeshift weapons, only to find that he wasn’t at the scene. Failing to see where else he could be, they made a cursory inspection of the woods near the area, then left for home. Then, someone saw him leaving the abandoned mansion house. No one knew who saw him of when, but they didn’t stop to ask questions. They charged through the wood, prepared to find the hermit. Instead, they found a desecration of human life such as they had never witnessed before, or ever again. Knives and other weapons were found there, along with the corpses of eleven of the thirteen missing children. Well, at least what was left of them. Before they could kill the hermit, the authorities arrived. Denverson was charged with mass murder and abduction. At his insanity hearing, he repeatedly stated ‘The doll told me to. The doll told me to.’ He was incarcerated in the Pescadero Asylum for the mentally unsound. The fate of the two other missing children remained unknown. He had never confessed to more than eleven murders. Returning to the present, our protagonist had decided that the easiest way to make it through the night was to stay curled up in the corner oh the hall next to the door, and wait until morning. This would have been the perfect plan, although it all rested on the thing that she had observed moving down the hall previously not discovering her. She heard no sounds, and saw no shadows for the first ten minutes. Ten, long minutes… But then, suddenly, the eerie silence was abruptly shattered by a cry of tortured agony. “Anyone! Please, God help me!” cried the voice. It was the voice of someone who had taken leave of their senses, and was mindlessly crying out for aid that they probably realised would never come. After that, the air was filled with sound. Volleys of anguished screams, heavy, thudding footsteps, and fast-paced creaking of floorboards. The sound neared the door. The stranger turned and grabbed for the handle of the towering oak doors, only to find if had broken off. There was no way to pull it open, but just as she prepared to run into the next room in search of an exit, she spotted the handle lying in the hallway, between two open doors. She leapt after it and, hitting the ground, grabbed for it. But, just as her fingers closed around the cold metal handle, a large shape collided with her, and they both tumbled into a room at the side. As she rose from the floor, she realised that it was a man. He was about forty years of age. Bald, with his features contorted into a look of shear terror. He spoke hysterically. “Please, help!” Before she could reply, he cut her off with more hysterical babbling. “It tore them to pieces! In front of my eyes!” even as he spoke, floorboards creaked in the next room. He started whimpering, and, eyes edging towards the sound, he opened up his mouth to let out one last scream of fear, and leapt out the closed window into the rose bushes ten feet below. Even as she looked out the smashed glass to see his body lying motionless below, another, younger man grabbed her by the arm and threw her into the next room, slamming the door behind them. The last thing she remembered was being dragged down a hallway, then a loud crash before she was knocked unconscious. When she woke up, she was sitting in a windowless room. Around her there were three people. One she recognised as the young man who dragged her from the room before. He had long blonde hair with stubble around his chin. There was another man, but younger with short, spiked brown hair. He was jumpy, constantly fidgeting nervously. He dropped a cigarette butt to the floor and ground it under his foot. There were several other, partially smoked cigarettes lying near him. The third was a woman, but she couldn’t have been more than twenty years old. “So…what the hell is all this?” Said he jittery man, after both lighting and discarding yet another cigarette. The others continued staring blankly into space. The girl’s lower lip trembled. “We don’t know. Or at least, not for certain. I have a few ideas, but…nah, that’s ludicrous.” said the blonde man. “Well in case you haven’t noticed, this is ludicrous! This wasn’t supposed to happen! What the hell was that thing, man? What was that?” quivered the jittery man. “Er, excuse me? What is happening here?” said the stranger. Only then did the blonde man’s attention turn to her. “You.” he said. “Who are you, and why are you here?” He asked.. “I’m Kimi Nath. I’m here because-” Before she finished her sentence, the jittery man cut her off “Er…right now I realy don’t care who the hell you are! I just wanna know how the hell we get outta here!” Snapped the jittery man. “And where is ‘here’ exactly?” Asked Kimi, even though she knew full well where it was. “I think you know. Most people who come here do. Otherwise they wouldn’t come here. How do I know that? Simple. This isn’t an area that has much to offer except mundane corner shops and bad weather. And as such, most people in the area live in the area. And everyone who lives here knows about this place.” “Okay…” replied Kimi, who had been rather taken off-guard by the fact that anyone could bring such deductional skills to bear in this situation. “Well then, at least tell me why I just saw a guy, his face spattered with blood, screaming about something killing someone. That’s something I’d like to know more about.” Barked Kimi defensively. “Well, that’s something I think we’d all like to know.” replied the blonde man. “Well, this is what we know thus far: we all came here for separate reasons. From your ignorance of what is going on around you, and total lack of self-control, I suppose you are a journalist of some kind. Although, then again, not many reporters would come here for their big scoop. The others, I don’t know. Suffice to say, I seem to be the only one who is capable of taking control of this situation. All I know about the man you saw was that he was with a couple of friends out hunting in the woods. Why he came in here, I don’t know. The thing he spoke of…well, the less said about that the better, I think.” as Kimi digested this information, slightly offended by being called a journalist, there was a creaking sound from the floorboards directly upstairs. Dust floated down from the ceiling. And everyone seemed to freeze. They all stood motionless, eyes to the roof, trying not to even breathe. The jittery man’s shaking hands, which held his metal lighter, started to shake even more violently. His lower lip trembled, and he let out a low squeaking, whimpering sound. The blonde man clapped his hand over the jittery man’s mouth, but as he grabbed him the jittery man’s lighter fell to the floor. It made a metallic, clattering sound, and suddenly the creaking from upstairs abruptly stopped. A low, grunting sound came from upstairs, followed by more creaking. But this creaking was more fast-paced, and moving away. Doing a mental geographical check, Kimi estimated that it, whatever it was, was headed to the stairs she had glimpsed. His face betraying the fear inside of him, the blonde man whispered “It knows we’re here…” as he finished, the door to the room burst open with a raucous crash, and through the gaping doorway stepped a blasphemy so evil, so wretched, so foul that it seemed impossible that the almighty god could suffer such a blasphemy upon his earth. It was akin to a grotesque doll, but it stood a full seven feet high. It was raggy and moth-eaten, and straw that stuffed it leaked from several large tears. It wore a red and white chequered dress, the colours old and faded. And caked with blood. The largest gash of all was in it’s chin, through which all the straw in it’s head had leaked giving it’s face a sagged, miserable look. It’s long, lanky hair hung down, tangled and dirty. Some of it’s fingers were missing, replaced by rusted blades and other such weapons. Even as Kimi screamed out in horror, the creature extended a raggy, vicious arm and reached for the young girl. Even as it grabbed her shoulder she didn’t run or even move. She just screamed. And never stopped screaming, even as it wrenched her screaming head from her writhing body, and immersed itself it the spray of blood. It then tossed the girl aside, and limped toward the others, who were, by now, far away. But not far enough to stop running. As far as Kimi was concerned, no where was far enough to stop running. It was obviously in pursuit, but she didn’t know who it was in pursuit of, for both the jittery man and the blonde man had run in separate directions to hers. It was then that she realised that, even though she had been unable to bear looking upon it, it had always moved with a limp. In this knowledge, she considered stopping. She was tired, and there was always the danger of running back into the thing in this maze of rooms and corridors. So, she relented. Still jogging, the adrenaline had kept her going thus far. But now she could run no further, and she knew that it was best to avoid any chance of running blindly into the monster. But her rest was cut short, however, as she heard the jittery man’s screams approaching from down the hall. Before she could run, he came barrelling into her, the monster on his trail. It moved much faster than she thought it would, no longer limping, but running full pelt. Kimi picked herself up off the ground, and proceeded to run back the way she had came. She did not know what became of the jittery man, all she knew was that she heard him screaming, then silence. She now had but one thing on her mind: escape. The thing was sure to be chasing her now, and judging by the speed she saw it going at before, it wouldn’t be long until it caught her. As she neared what she thought was a door, she realised it was just a wooden panel fixed to the wall. Then, to her horror, she saw that she had run straight into a dead end. She turned, her eyes closed, prepared to die. But, just as she heard the creature roar with delight, she was pushed hard into the wood panel that she thought was a door. Rather than smash hard into it, she smashed through it. It was surprisingly weak, but then again it was probably rotten. Everything else in the mansion was, and that’s not just talking about the woodwork. She curled into a ball, and lay on the floor. Her shoulder hurt like hell, though she didn’t know why. Then she looked at it, and saw that she had a deep gash there. In the rush of the chase she didn’t notice it, but now she had seen it she was hit with the shock and pain of seeing her skin sliced open. There was a burst of light in the hallway outside, forcing her to cover her eyes. The only light she had seen since nightfall was that of the moon, and that didn’t even compare to the majesty of this flame. There was a roaring sound. Like the creature’s but not a bestial cry of triumph. It was a cry of pain. Then she saw that the doll, if indeed it could be called that, was in flames. Or at least, it’s arm was. It was no longer paying any attention to her, but was not desperately trying to slap out the flames with it’s other inarticulate hand. A shape suddenly shot into view, covering the gap she had left in the wood. She screamed and recoiled in horror, but then realised it was, in fact, the blonde haired man. “Let’s go! Out the window, now!” He barked. He held the jittery man’s lighter in his hand. Before she could so much as ask him where to go, he grabbed her arm and pulled her forcefully off the ground and pushed her toward the window, rattling in the wind. She would have made a move to open it, but she stumbled into it with such force that it’s thin, single-glazing smashed easily, and she fell through. Fell from the second story, straight into the rose bushes. She had had her eyes closed for a long time now…or at least, it felt like a long time. As soon as she opened them, she found herself staring into the cold, dead eyes of the man whom she had seen jump out the window before. Screaming with terror, she nonetheless got up and ran through the rose bushes and flower beds to the smooth, well kept laws beyond. The blonde haired man stood in the room, back to the window Kimi had fell out of. He held the lighter in his hand, ready to flick it on. The monster was pacing back and forth in front of him, it’s arm blackened, growling intently. Suddenly, and without any warning, it leapt forward, arms outstretched, ready to crush his throat. As it charged, he flicked the flame of the lighter on, ready to use it. “Open wide, you-”. Those were his last words on earth. He spoke them as he slammed the Zippo into the beast’s mouth. There was a roar of flame in the room Kimi had jumped from, but she didn’t notice. She just kept running. Through the woods. In her flight, she did not notice the branch, and ran straight into it. She got back up to her feet, unhurt. There were many sounds. Every horrific and terrifying sound imaginable. But she wasn’t scared. She had lost her mind with sheer terror already. Now she couldn’t be scared. Not any more. Undeterred, she kept running. Suddenly, something smashed into her from behind, sending her flying into a pile of fallen leaves. She rolled over, and quickly jumped to her feet. It was, in fact, the doll. It’s head was all black, it’s features burnt into flat black mass. It didn’t stand, rather it was squatting down, it’s hands hanging inches off the ground. It’s mouth shot open as it shrieked with open hate at Kimi. It moved even faster than it did before, scuttling sideways like a crab with it‘s arms dangling in front of it. It was now circling her, it’s mouth open wide, wider than any human mouth could. It screeched constantly. Mixed into these screeches was both hate and pain. It then moved with impossible speed towards Kimi, but before it hit her she threw herself to the ground, and the beast flew over her. Over her, over the steep precipice into the creek, which was no longer a tranquil stream but a raging current. It shrieked as it jumped. It screamed as it fell. It screeched as it was lost under the waves, which seemed to crash over it intent on pulling it down into the black abyss which lay under the water. Kimi, in immense pain from many wounds, tears obscuring her vision, throat sore from uncontrollable screaming, continued to run in the direction she was headed before the creature attacked her. In the direction of the town. She glimpsed lights. The lights of the town. Crying now, but with joy. With the feeling that she would survive. Sooner than she thought, she reached the town. And in the deserted street, there stood a solitary figure. A young girl. “Jesse?” Kimi whispered in awe. As she approached young Jesse Nath, the girl’s eyes snapped open. And rather than human eyes, they were burning red eyes. The blazed like the flames of tartarus. Like the fire of hell. And it was then that Kimi woke up. That would be how an ideal story would end. A fairytale-esque ‘It was all a dream’ ending. But life is no fairytale, especialy for Kimi Nath. For rather than wake up un a comfortable bed on a bright, summer morning, she woke up in the woods. She had been knocked unconscious by the low-hanging branch, and when she woke up but a minute later, she found herself right where she fell. In the woods. Lost. Now knowing where to go. Surrounded by sounds. But, unlike when she fell, now she had her senses. She was not running blindly. She knew what was happening. And was more terrified by it that words can describe. The last odour she smelt was the stench of death and decay. The last sight she saw was a pitch black wood under a dark, dark sky. The last sound she heard was that of trees creaking. Twigs snapping. Leaves rustling. Something approaching. This is how she died. Ten years later. The town is no more. It’s residents have packed up and fled, and the old mansion house has been burnt to the ground. The town has been wiped from every map. The area is now deserted, even the animals and birds do not stray there. But look, there is one who remains there. A young boy by the name of…Thomas Nath. He feels compelled to enter the woods. He strides towards them now. Through the ruins of the once lively town…to the swaying trees with brown leaves and blackened boughs. He nears the forest edge. He pauses a moment. A breeze blows from within the wood, as if to say ‘keep out’…but he enters nonetheless. …Wind blew. ...sorry it's a bit long for a forum post :lol: p.s. sorry for some grammatical errors, haven't had time to correct them all yet.
