The Drowned [part II]
I open my eyes to find two unfamiliar, young, male faces hovering above me. Startled, I sit up and try to slide myself back away from the boys, but I’m stuck, sinking into the middle of the old bed I’m on top of. The room is dimly lit, but I can see they both have friendly smiles on their faces, yet they remain silent. Unsure of what to do, I half smile back. I look down at myself and notice that I’m wearing a dark blue robe. I can’t remember what I had been wearing, but I know it wasn’t this. The boy to my left stands up and starts to walk towards the doorway. My eyes follow him and I notice now how the walls of the room are solid rock, and the air is damp. We must be in some sort of cave, I think to myself. How did I get here? What was I doing before I woke up? I try to remember anything, but my mind seems blank.
“Is she awake?” a voice calls out from the adjacent room. A few seconds later, a third boy peaks his head around the corner. He waltzes through the threshold, carrying a teacup and saucer. Gliding carefully across the rocky floor, he hands me the cup and says, “drink up darling, it will help your blood shift.” As soon as he says this, I realize my chest feels heavy, as if I’m not receiving enough oxygen. I am hesitant to drink the hot beverage, but its sweet aroma floats up to my nose, and I cannot resist. I take a few sips of the tea, and let the warm fluid coat my throat.
“Where am I?” I ask.
“Safe. You know, you sank right to the bottom. Luckily Chase was hunting in the area, saw you struggling, and brought you home.” He glances over to the boy on my right, “This is Chase. I’m Angelo, and over there is Peter.”
“I’m Valyn.”
“We know. We heard them calling for you,” Angelo says.
“Calling for me?” and then I remembered my date with Alex. “I need to get back to the cliffs, Alex is probably worried sick. I was just – .”
“It’s too late,” Angelo interrupts, “Alex went home. We insist you stay here for the night. Finish your tea, darling.”
I decide not to argue and finish the last few sips of the tea. The weight in my chest seems to have disappeared, and I can breathe easily now. I hand the empty teacup back to Angelo. Smiling, he gets up and motions the other boys to do the same.
“We will let you get some sleep. If you need anything, just call out. Otherwise, I will have breakfast ready for you in the morning. Would you like me to leave a light on for you? It gets awfully dark in here.”
“Yes, please.”
It’s just then when I realize that the only light sources in the room have been coming from candles or torches along the wall. Leaving a candle burning for me by my bed, the boys blow the rest of the flames out, and leave my room. I hear them rustling around in the other rooms, but it’s my thoughts that are distracting me from going to sleep. I still don’t know how or why I’m here. I don’t even know where “here” is. It’s nice though, safe like Angelo said. I don’t feel threatened by the boys at all. Angelo seems like such a sweetheart, always smiling. Suddenly, Alex appears in my mind. I have to get back into town tomorrow, I’m sure one of the boys will show me the way. I dream about Alex that night, holding and kissing me in front of the sunset.
The next morning I awake, this time to the smell of bacon and eggs. I tie my robe up and follow the smell out to a bright, cozy kitchen. Angelo is in front of the stove, humming a strange tune. I look around for Chase and Peter, but don’t see them.
“Good morning Angelo,” I say, “I’d offer to help you, but I’m a terrible cook.”
Smiling, he responds, “Oh don’t worry, the femmes do all the cooking around here. You may set the table if you’d like. Flatware is in the drawer over there, and plates are in the cupboard above the sink. Chase and Peter are out on an errand so it will be just the two of us this morning.”
I’m not sure what he meant by “femmes,” so I mull it over while I set the table for us. The dining area is quite charming. A painting of a lighthouse hangs on the wall, and the rest of the kitchen is decorated with a beach theme. Sea shells and beach glass are displayed in jars, and roped fishing nets hang in the corners. The walls of these rooms are solid rock too, and there are still no windows letting light in, only torches illuminate the place. You can’t even tell it is morning, I think to myself. Actually, I don’t know if it even is morning. Angelo brings the breakfast over to the table and begins serving us.
“It smells delicious,” I tell him before I take my first bite. The bacon has the perfect texture and the eggs are fluffy and full of flavor. I find myself making complimentary noises as I enjoy the home cooked meal.
“I’m glad you can appreciate my cooking, darling.” Angelo says as he pours what smells to be the same type of tea from yesterday into my cup.
“I could eat like this every morning, Angelo.”
“Well, that’s good to hear. You know, since you’re a part of us now, you can’t just leave, anyway. I know you will fit in perfectly with our group. Chase and Peter love you already, especially Chase. He was rather devastated to find out you are a boi, but you do seem to straddle the gender line, you are a two-spirit afterall. Maybe there could still be something there?”
“Boy?” I ask, “but wait, I can’t stay, I need to get back into town today. People are probably looking for me, well, Alex at least.”
“Your blood has already shifted, you can’t go back to the surface now. You drank the tea, you depend on the oxygen in it or from the water outside now.”
“I don’t understand,” I stammer.
“You were drowning. Chase found you, and quickly brought you back here. Your blood has shifted in order to adapt to the oxygen levels of our environment, so you can’t leave now.”
“Am I dead?”
“No, not quite. We’re just in a different realm down here. The only connection we have to the world we once were from is through encounters in the lake. You can now breathe, walk, communicate, do anything you want underwater, but going to the surface is dangerous. Your lungs could collapse if you stay exposed too long… Are you understanding this?”
I nod my head, “I’m beginning to, it’s just a lot to sink in.”
“Let’s clean up, then I’ll show you around.”
We wash our dishes, put them away, then head down the hallway I came from this morning. I notice there are several more rooms that channel off from it. They appear to be empty, just waiting for others to fill them up, make them home.
“This is where Peter and I sleep.” Angelo lights up a large bedroom, full of character, much like their kitchen.
“So you’re gay?” I ask.
“Well, I guess you could call us that. Peter and I are indeed a couple. We are both physically males, but I am a two-spirit so as for gender, I like to consider myself a femme, as it reflects more my personality than what is physically on the outside. It doesn’t mean I want to be a woman, it just means I’m a feminine male who happens to be with a masculine male. Together we create the perfect balance of human harmony, and that is all that matters to us.”
“So now I understand why you called me a boy,” I say. “And you think I am a two-spirit as well?”
“Yes, you are most definitely a woman on the outside, but from what I can judge of your personality, you seem to lean more towards the masculine side; we would call you a boi since you still have femme qualities, but more dominantly are your masculine idiosyncrasies. Please don’t take offense, it’s only an observation.”
“No, I agree with you. I have always been more of a tomboy. So is that what a two-spirit is? Someone who is physically a male or female, but is mentally the opposite gender?”
“It is a complex concept, but that is the basic black and white version. With that being said, our roles down here are pretty traditional in that sense. The femmes cook, the bois hunt. If you’re feeling up to it tonight, you can go with Chase and Peter.”
“Should I talk to Chase first? I wouldn’t want to make it awkward.”
“No, he knows already. It’s fine, really. He just wants someone to balance him too… Did you have someone who balanced you?”
“There might have been someone, but it doesn’t really matter now.”
What are friends for?
Joe was not jaded, and he did not look at Dorothy with eyes of disdain, hatred or even jealousy that can only come from deep love that had been crossed. The look in Joe’s eyes was blank; there was no feeling at all behind his eyes and he felt nothing. He could stand looking at Dorothy and not flinch. It was his hands that had gone through the motions of a loving touch just minutes prior. There had been laughter in the room at that time. Dorothy was playing the game, in front of their party guests.
Dorothy could have bathed in the material aspect of her world. By all rights, if money could buy happiness, Dorothy should have been excited about every sunrise. Dorothy had the finest fashions, a grand house, a personal pool, and no debt. None of these material things could change her fate. Dorothy couldn’t tell anyone of her fate. Truthfully, she didn’t truly believe it herself. Even if she could bring herself to speak with someone, she had no reason to believe anyone would care. People had seen the cast on her arm after “the accident”. There wasn’t a living person that would do more than glance at her, and give her a shallow, “I am sure you will be alright” type of answer. The world Dorothy was in, did not allow her to speak about disgraceful acts.
Dorothy had always been supported by Suzy. Suzy used to talk to her for hours about her dreams, aspirations and what the future held for them. At one time, Suzy had sworn an undying oath of friendship to Dorothy. The truth though, Suzy was not Dorothy’s real friend. Suzy was more of the person that was around. This is not a real friendship, and that fact would show true.
Anger had built up in Suzy. Suzy’s first act of jealousy happened after the violent impact of the car. Dorothy was unconscious after a car “accident”. Suzy stomped on Dorothy’s shoulder dislocating it out of the socket.
The truth about the matter now, Dorothy was emotionally numb. She had no fear of death any more. Dorothy’s eyes were looking directly at Joe and Suzy when they had their first kiss. Just a week prior, Suzy had attended Joe and Dorothy’s wedding. This was the first time Suzy had let herself feel anything for Joe, but it would not be the last.
The first kiss had filled Suzy with a passion she had never before experienced. Her friendship with Dorothy was really jealousy. Suzy wanted to be the one getting married, wanted the clothes, wanted the beautiful life with Joe. Suzy would have Joe to herself.
It was satisfying, as Suzy felt Dorothy’s neck snap between her fingers.
Just then, from down the hall “Suzy, dinner is ready, and don’t forget to wash your hands.” Her mom called out as part of their evening routine. Suzy would have a long tedious night at the dinner table. Mom had fixed broccoli.
As Suzy entered the dining room, she secretly wished she could put this adult world behind her. She was anxious to get back to her Joe. Dorothy’s head was in her right pocket, and she felt relaxed as she could feel its outline through her shorts. At least Joe will be there waiting when I get back. He had better comply with her commands or his head would fit nicely in her left pocket.
Darkest Hour
I turned and faced my darknest hour. The man lifted his hat, showing me a shocking face. “Son, what have you done! You’ve killed souls and left heartless trails behind you!” I croaked, holding my bleeding chest. He laughed, throwing the cap to the solid concrete ground. He brought out his cane and stricked me. Blue energy shot out from the tip, giving me hell. I cried out, echo screams corroded the corridors. The painfull simmer of my voice slowly died out. The soul crushing killed brought out his knife, telling me his harsh stories of his past. I looked down, my knees loosing the strength. I collapsed, my knuckles turning pale white in the distant moonlight. I whispered the unforgettable words of the memorable future. My arms became stiff, my eyes became sore, my heart became cold. I felt the ‘never ending’ heartbeat stop. My chest burned as the fire swallowed my body.
He left me, not bothered to show any sorrow. There I died, never to be rested…
I had come to realise the full truth of the young boy I had once raised. Running with no top down the stairs, holding a cardboard sword. Hanging with a strip of , he ripped up his masterpiece and screamed for
The Drowned [part I]
The Wake pt II
I approached them slowly, the men, or man, I’m not sure how to word it. All standing around a single, lonesome coffin, I counted eleven of them, eleven of the same man, all wearing the same suits, black, all but one, who was dressed like a priest. And as the closer I approached, the stranger the scene became.
The fact that they all looked perfectly the same was inarguable, impossible to deny. Same clothes, save for the priest, same dark brown, almost black hair, same stature and slight slouch, and same faces. Complete without mouths and eyes. A nose, but where the eyes and mouths on of them should have been, just flesh, skin.
Realizing this, seeing these freaks of whatever they were, I stopped, my body wanting me to walk away, but for some reason my feet wanted me to continue forward. The men disturbed me, but the curiosity of the casket and the grave drove me to inch closer and closer.
The casket, looked as though it was decades old, wooden, appearing to be hand carved, nailed together and painted blacker than a moonless midnight. And upon closer inspection, so close that I was shoulder to shoulder with two of the mouth-less, eyeless men, that I could see the coffin was shaking, and light pounding could be heard. I questioned whether my eyes were merely playing tricks on me, and I pondered if the pounding was merely the wind playing games.
Bending down, the instance my hand touched that wooden casket, I knew it was shaking, the pounding coming from inside. Someone alive was being buried, and these freaks were going to bury that person, alive or not. Looking frantically for a way to open the casket, I was stopped, my wrists, shoulders grabbed by three of the freaks, one for each wrist, and the last my shoulders.
Pulling me back, pushing me to my knees, the one holding my shoulders moved it’s hands to my head, forcing me to look at the face of the freak-priest. It occurred to me that I had just walked up, not even thinking what they were, or where I was, or what the hell was going on? I had, without even thinking just approached, as though a puppet just being pulled by the strings.
Staring at the priest, he, or it, but I assume a he, reached to the fleshy spot where his mouth should have been, and with a razor sharp nail on his thumb, cut the flesh, blood running down from the wound. The blood though wasn’t red like that of a fresh, humanly wound. No, it was a darker red, and thick, so thick. I wanted to look away from the gruesome act, but my head was held in place, and no matter how I tried, my eyes wouldn’t close.
Finishing the self mutilation, the priest had sliced a line long enough to be a mouth, and opening his newly formed mouth, the flesh at the corners of the wound tearing, more of the dark red blood running down its chin, what appeared to be hundreds of razor sharp teeth could be seen. It had to have been hundreds, just so many.
“What are you?” I managed to ask, my voice sounding like a strangers to my own ears. The response given, from the priests newly formed mouth was what I assume to be a laugh, but it sounded like it was coming from under water. It sounded so distant, gargled. But it was a laugh.
My head finally released to move freely, I looked to the others, and instead of cutting a smile in their faces like the priest, they instead dug their nails into their faces above their eyes, pulling, the flesh pulling, tearing, ripping away. When all was finished, their hands, clothes, razor sharp nails were soaked with dark red, and where their faces had been, there was skull, permanently painted red from the blood. And their mouths were visible then, and so were the hundreds of teeth in each mouth. But still no eyes. Sockets for eyes, but empty darkness.
I wanted to ask what they were again, but I couldn’t find the words to form the question. My mind and ears were too full of their laughter, and my whole was full of fear.
True Monsters
They wore boots. That’s all he could tell from the initial noises. They were silent at first, hardly making any noise at all. But their boots were too heavy, regardless of how careful they were. The boy of six years old was a light sleeper and heard them as soon as they stepped through the front door.
His father told him something like this might happen, to always be ready because there were dangerous people in the world that might try to hurt him. He had never fully understood what this meant until now. He was told to hide in the closet, in the little crawl space in the back. There he would be hidden from view and ultimately, hopefully, safe.
When he heard the boots, the boy sat up straight and stared into the darkness. Shadows played across his walls. They seemed like living, breathing things. He hesitated as he pulled off the covers and swung his feet toward the edge of the bed. What if the thing that lived under his bed grabbed him and pulled him under?
There was noise downstairs: “Who are you? Get out of my house!”
Then: A loud noise that made the boy jump. Followed by: A scream. Finally: Silence.
The boy held his breath as he listened. From below his floorboards he heard a gruff voice say, “Let’s find the boy.”
Without realizing what he was doing he felt his bare feet on the carpet. He jumped away from his bed, eyes wide and heartbeat frantic, staring at the opening between the bottom of the bed and the floor. There were no red eyes staring back at him. No clawed hands reaching out for his ankles. He turned toward the closet as the boots came to the top of the stairs. “You check that room, I’ll check this one.”
The boy’s hand reached for the handle to the closet, stopping just short. Tears fell from his face as he did his best to hide a whimper. He looked back at the space under his bed. There was nothing there. Maybe there’d be nothing in the closet. Closing his eyes he opened the door as the gruff voice again spoke, “Nothing? Let’s try that one.”
The boy entered the closet quietly, closing the door carefully behind him, and crawled inside the tiny opening that held suitcases and old lamps. A shadow caught his eye; A shadow with a long snout, and a singular cold eye. It wasn’t moving, so he hoped that whatever it was, it was sleeping. He did his best to stay quiet and still. His bedroom door opened and the men allowed themselves in.
The boy listened as the boots walked around on his lightly carpeted floor. A light found its way under the door and through the keyhole, making the boy wince as his eyes adjusted. There was a murmur of voices that the boy could just make out.
“What are you doing?”
“I wanted to see if the kid was in here. Calm down.”
“You’re going to get us caught waving that damn flashlight around. Now turn it off.” The light disappeared, leaving the boy enveloped in a shroud of black. “Speaking of the kid, where is he?”
“I don’t know. . . Let me check the closet.”
There was a momentary silence. “Alright… I’ll shut the blinds and then hurry up.” The boy’s eyes widened as he heard his blinds shut and the boots move towards his closet. He pressed himself closer to the wall as the closet door creaked open and a light invaded the space. The light moved back and forth, searching for something. Searching for him. He worried that the light would wake the sleeping monster across from him. He closed his eyes and listened. The only sound in the room was that of the men’s breathing. The boy wanted to scream, to attack whatever creatures were stalking him. He could feel his anger rising, his heartbeat quickening. The blood vessels in his brain pounded against his skull, screaming for a way out. Tears slid from his eyes into his mouth. He could no longer breath.
The boy opened his eyes and slowly looked back through the hole that was the crawlspace. The searching light and its owners were gone.
The boy emerged from his closet shaking. The house was quiet. The monsters had left. He looked toward his bed, there was nothing. He glanced behind him at the closet, nothing again. He looked toward his bedroom window, at the now closed blinds. Yes, he thought, that’s where the true monsters are.
What’s in a Name?
The door slammed and echoed down the long hall.Ally stood alone in the house trembling with anger at no one
but herself.
“How could I have been so damn oblivious to the kind of
man he was?”
Two months ago she didn’t even know his name. About that
time she had posted an ad on the community bulletin board
at the hospital advertising her calligraphy skills. And soon
after… he called.
Arriving home from work one night she found him on her
doorstep. She invited him in. Ken needed his name added to
two certificates in calligraphy. She was happy to do the job
and charged him only $5.00.
Tall, handsome, Ken seemed nice enough, but just a little
too chatty. She had offered him iced tea but he didn’t accept,
claiming he was on his way to Washington and had to get on
the road.
She walked him to where he had a parked his camper in
front of her Tujunga home and waved a friendly good bye to
the chatty but nice stranger.
Ally added Ken’s name to the certificates and promptly
mailed them to an address in Washington as per instructed.
But then soon received a letter from him that expressed
outrage and disappointment at the calligraphy job she had
done.
Handwritten he went as far as to threaten to report her to the
tax board for practicing calligraphy without a license. He had
ended the letter expressing doubts that she could satisfy any
man.
At first Ally was offended, but the letter was so “out there”
that she soon just shrugged it off as a note from a nut bag. In
the junk drawer of the kitchen she placed it to live with things
not to be concerned with.
A couple weeks had gone by since the strange letter had
arrived.
It was early evening on a Tuesday and Ally was doing dishes
while listening to the local news. Then a name caught her
attention.
Finally apprehended was the notorious Hillside Strangler. He
was suspected of killing a total of 10 women in the area
where Ally lived. His name was Kenneth Bianci.
A drinking class fell from her hands and shattered around
her feet!
She knew that name well. She had practiced it in calligraphy
a zillion times before applying it to the certificates.
Almost sprinting to the television set she watched the news
footage intently as Kenneth Bianci was being forced into the
back of a Bellingham city police car while in handcuffs. It
was definitely him.
Her stomach soured.
At that time in the area of Glendale and Hollywood,
California a string of young tortured and murdered
prostitutes had turned up often in the news. Ally had been
aware of it, sickened by it but not concerned for her own
safety.
However, it took awhile for the news of this murderer who
had not long ago been standing in her own living room with
her to really sink in. But before she could even allow that to
happen she contacted the Hillside Strangler L.A. Police Task
Force and turned over the letter he had written her.
It was then confirmed: The certificates were definitely invalid.
Kenneth had posed as a policeman to lure his female victims
into his car and had used the certificates to get jobs in
Washington in the alarm systems and security fields.
The days that followed were hard for Ally. With a steady
stream of facts floating to the surface she also learned that
after Kenneth Bianci had traveled to the state of Washington
(after leaving her home) he had killed two more girls.
This news she found extremely hard to take. A question, a
sharp penetrating and haunting question chipped away at
her. Could she have prevented these last two deaths if she
had only picked up on the person Kenneth Bianchi truly
was? She had always been sensitive to people’s energy,
why did it not work when this evil man had entered her life,
her home… if only for a very short time?
Ally took a deep breath. Her anger began to subside. She
breathed out again slowly, releasing self destructive toxins
that had no place in her life any longer.
With a little less heaviness Ally headed down the long hall of
her home where the echo of the slamming door still seemed
to linger…
What’s in a Name?
A flash fiction short story
By Brenda Starr
Rayna -Ghost Story-
He didn’t look anything like she expected. His eyes a glowing almond that seemed tense with some sort of anger, his ebony hair plastered to his native skin and his lips tugging in a frightening sneer. Before she could speak, the hallway clock struck one and glass broke all around her. Soon a delightful smell of lavender overpowered her and the boy with his group of friends hurried back down the steps they came from. “Wait!” She tried to call out but more glass shattered then made her freeze. She quickly ran to the stairs, stumbling to make her way to the boys. Only they had disappeared. “Damn it.”
“Looking for someone, darling?” A husky male voice whispered in her ear. She turned to face the voice but no one was there. She searched through the darkness of the cafeteria but was disappointed to find nothing. “Wanna join us?” the words made her jump, a fearful shiver escaped up and down her spine.
“Who’s there?” she started but paused when there was no answer. “What do you mean by joining you?”
“This is what we mean.” The boy with the glowing eyes stepped out of the dark revealing a new him. His skin a sick gray color, cuts lashed into his skin. Before she could speak, in lightening speed; he was in front of her. He reached out his hands and it went right through her. Terrified, she fell backwards, over the stairs railings and onto the basement floor. A liquid red color seeping out of her skull, eyes widen with fright. The boy disappeared. The girl was named Rayna and she was found after a few days and the group of boys were never found. But it was said, a new girl came to school and she looked exactly like Rayna; only she seemed perfect, flawless. She hung out with a group of boys that also were perfect, with ghost-like features. They kept to themselves and whenever someone tried to talk to them; they went missing ot found dead.
The Shielded
I don’t like to think of it as “running”. No, let’s call it “traveling with the intent of avoiding a specific party”.
What you call it doesn’t matter, I guess. What does matter is that the Abunari have tracked me through six states up and down the Atlantic coast, and I need to keep moving.
I’ll assume you think that the Abunari is something like the mafia, some family organization geared toward money and corruption and a skewed view of honor. You’d be terribly wrong. The Abunari is ten times what the mafia could ever be with no clear understandable motivation. At least what the mafia does can be understood; the Abunari do what they do simply for the hell of it.
I guess with that much power it’s understandable.
I attacked one of them. They have this hobby of taking over largely public vehicles and crashing them into things. They like to watch your thoughts panic and bounce frantically around your aura as you see death approaching you, as you begin to comprehend that your life is terminating.
They live for that moment of clarity you experience right before impact. It feeds them.
I happened to be on that bus one of them overtook in Virginia. And I happened to notice that he didn’t even realize I was there. I looked him straight in the face. He looked right through me.
The Abunari do not “see” like you and I “see”. They perceive the world through something they like to call Visual Telepathic Energy. In essence, they don’t see you, they see your thoughts. Think something along the lines of thermal energy goggles.
I can’t explain it, but for some reason, they can’t see me. I have some sort of VTE shield, and they can’t penetrate it. That’s why the one on the bus couldn’t see me pull out the handgun I carry for protection and shoot him directly between the eyes. Now, of course, this didn’t kill him, but it stunned him long enough for us to toss him onto the road at 60 miles per hour. That didn’t kill him either.
I assume that’s why they want me so badly. It gives them something to chase, something to experiment on when they eventually catch me.
How are they tracking me? I can’t say that I’m entirely sure about that myself. My theory is that they can see me through other people’s VTE. Sure, they never had a clear basis for what I would look like to them, but I’m sure the one on the bus caught glimpses of me, even though he had no idea where I was or what I was doing. Using that, they simply follow me through the people that see me, those who happen to see a ratty, skinny, dirty young woman scaling scaffolds and running through shadows, those who happen to see me hop a bus to wherever.
That’s just a theory, though. I cannot claim to fully understand the Abunari. As I said: all that matters is that they’re tracking me, and I’ve got to keep moving.
All I care about is staying ahead. All I care about is finding others like me, other Shielded, so that maybe we can start a resistance. The Abunari want to tear this world apart; I don’t feel inclined to let them. There are more out there, somewhere, and I’m going to find them.
So I’ll keep moving. Be on the lookout for a woman in the shadows, beyond the perception of everyday life. That’s where I’ll be, preparing to fight.
Will you?
Mirror and Blood
Slowly, the ghostly pale girl stepped over the broken alcohol bottles scattered all over her bedroom floor. She then emerged into her bathroom. Her eyes lifted towards the mirror caked with tiny cracks and blood. She examined her reflection.
“Who are you?” She whispered. The girl could barely recognize herself any more. The light that once held in her eyes diminished within months. Expecting no answer from her question, she began to dig for one special friend.
“I’m you, stupid.” She heard a voice state.
Her eyes widened at her reflection. “No, you couldn’t have said that. You’re just a reflection. I think I’m going crazy.”
“Maybe I am, or maybe you’re the reflection.”
“I’m going crazy,” she muttered to herself, “To think my reflection is talking.”
“Oh drop it. I just can’t believe you now. Like, what the hell?”
She just stared at her reflection with a questioning look.
“Don’t play dumb with me. Why? Why did you do it?”
“Do what?”
“You killed him,” her voice lowered to a whisper. “Our only love.”
Her eyes widen and glistened with tears. “N-no, I didn’t. I don’t know what you’re talking about. The only guy that I ever loved is still alive and breaking hearts left and right.”
“Don’t lie to yourself. You know exactly what and who I’m talking about.”
Tears began to slide down her cheek. “I didn’t mean too.” She managed to whisper.
“Huh, what was that? I didn’t quite catch what you said.” Her reflection mocked.
More tears rolled down their eyes. Only one seemed to grow more hysterical as they came. “I didn’t mean too!” she managed to sob out.
“He was only trying to help you, but no you couldn’t take it anymore. You got mad at him like you did at the rest of the world, and dashed out. Then you tried to commit suicide, and you thought he would just sit there and watch you die. Of course, you thought wrong. The second you jumped in front of a car was a second to early. Next thing you know you’re barely conscience with our dead lover on the street surrounded by a pool of blood. I told you he was only trying to help you. You didn’t have to run off like that. He loved you. He actually loved you for you. He wasn’t that jerk you dated and “loved with all your heart,” who only wanted you for the “fun.” Hn. How could you live with yourself?
“SHUT UP!” The girl was sobbing, but her reflection looked calm but still had tears streaming down her face. “You’re just a reflection. You don’t know anything! Not the pain, the guilt, or the crap I’ve been through. Don’t act like you know everything because you know nothing about me at all. You’re just a stupid reflection. You don’t know what it was to actually see my best friend, deny no more, my one true love dead. The only one who understood me and can stand me. You’re just a reflection. I’m just imaging and hearing things. You’re just a reflection. Just a reflection.” She whispered the last part repeatedly to herself.
“Psh! I’m more than honey. I’m what you call a conscience. You know that voice you kept ignoring and forgetting about. That thing you ditched about five months ago. Miss me? All I could say is I told you so. I know right now you can’t handle hearing the truth. Having what you built, layers and layers of walls, to avoid crumble in seconds right before your very eyes. Thought you could go through life without me, huh? Mhm, because you so got far didn’t you? What happened to your friends? Because that little razor you’re looking for isn’t one. What happened to your dreams of being a singer or a famous painter? Down the toilet, right? You could have gotten somewhere if you haven’t ditched me.
“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up, damn it just shut up!”
“The phrase never gets old.”
“Go away.”
“Got any new methods for making me? Because drowning me out with music, alcohol, drugs, and bleeding only led you to this crazy-like hallucination.”
The girl was shaking from all the violent tears spilling out.
“You’re not you anymore. What happened when you never had a care in the world? All this because a stupid boy. If you only listened to me, in the first place none of this would be happening. I told you that guy was nothing but a player, but no you were blinded by love because some popular guy noticed you. I told you to say no. I told you to stay away from him. I told you it wasn’t love. I told you the boy who was by your side almost every day was going to be the one. Then you got your heart broken, deprived yourself from humanity, and cause nothing but pain to the both of us.”
She had enough and left the bathroom. Shaking all over, she carefully stepped over the shattered glass getting towards her dresser. She opened it slowly, shuffled her clothes around to find what she was looking for. Successfully, she found it and walked back into the bathroom.
“I wouldn’t do that,” her reflection said.
“Shut up!”
“Listen to me! We can fix up your life if you just fucking listen to me!”
“Damn it! Shut up!”
“No, I’m trying to help you here!”
“I don’t need or care about your help!” She yelled back while pointing the gun towards the mirror.
“Stupid! Why won’t you listen to me?”
“You can’t help me with anything. You don’t know anything!”
“Don’t you dare pull that trigger!”
“I never listened to you, so why start now?”
As the girl pulled the trigger, her world began to slow down. The pieces of glass flew everywhere, seeing her reflection repeatedly. Some shards pierced her skin. Blood poured out from the open wounds. She dropped to her knees, cutting more skin open as she fell. With time passing, her eyesight began to slowly diminish. No one could save her now. She then picked up a piece of glass within her reach, looked at her reflection one last time, and with a quick breath she stabbed herself in the heart.
Deep Wood
Deep in the woods stands a cabin. Occupying this cabin is a man who appears almost inhuman. He came to be in this cabin through a rather unusual ordeal. He’s a vengeful soul, constantly paranoid and very suspicious of other people. To venture near is not for the faint of heart! You might even say he’s a bit insane, but alas, he was not always like this. He was once a normal person.
His story begins a long time ago while living with his parents. A relatively normal childhood with his share of hardships and high points. His parents were highly professional and highly respected in society, often attending functions leaving the boy home by himself. It’s not that they didn’t care, it’s more they were incapable of dealing with his adventurous and seemingly free spirit. He was always off exploring and getting into mischief that would force his parents to conjure up explanations to the town. They eventually grew tired and impatient of his ways after a few years and there became a huge gap in communication and the family unit began to crumble. Then, the incident occurred! One clear night while his parents were out hobnobbing, he ventured outside to investigate strange lights he saw outside his bedroom window. He searched and searched but came up empty. Then, without warning, three aliens ambushed him and took him to their ship and took off! Once inside, they strapped him down and performed test after test for what seemed like an eternity.
Meanwhile, his parents arrived home and without even checking to see if he’s home in bed, swiftly went off to sleep. Finally he was returned home, exhausted and weary. Whatever was done up there had him anxious and untrusting of just about everyone and everything. Unable to rationalize or comprehend what just happened, he decided to turn in for the night. He slept cautiously. As morning came around, so did he. During breakfast he emotionally conveyed his encounter to his parents. Alarmed, and full of disbelief they felt necessary to confine him to a mental institution. Hurt and feeling betrayed, the boy eventually went mad from being alone. While inside, he vowed unconditional revenge on his parents and those aliens who did this to him.
Years went by as he planned and plotted his escape and revenge plan. By now the boy became a young man and his hatred and intensity grew. Meanwhile, his parents eventually forgot about him and went about their business. A mistake that he would not let them get away with. He grew stronger and stronger, waiting for the perfect time. Finally, the time came to make his escape! Before the guards even figured out what happened, he was gone.
His first order of business, find his parents. They were not exactly hard to find either, just find a high class function! He stormed into the room looking like a mad man would if he was locked away for fifteen years! All the people scattered and fled, leaving his parents standing there amazed and puzzled. He strolled over to the buffet table and grabbed a knife and proceeded to charge towards his parents. They ran out, but not before he was able to slash their arms as they weaseled their way out his clutches. He yelled after them, vowing to find and exact his revenge! He, himself ran off into the woods and eventually stumbled upon an abandoned cabin where he settled and planned his rightous victory. Few people ventured near, mainly out of fear and the ones that did, he made absolutely sure they thought twice about it!
It was a hot, lazy summer day when hikers stumbled upon his cabin. Horrified and startled, they backed off when wildly approached by him. Still, however, they were intrigued and mysteriously drawn to him. The strong summer heat made him weary and unstable. He began to have frequent hallucinations. He would frequently begin to barricade himself inside as if he was surrounded by something. When people drew near, he would speak in an unearthly tongue! One crisp and cool evening, while cooking dinner for himself, he noticed figures outside his cabin. He opened his window and immediately felt a wave of anger and adrenaline surge over him! The very same aliens that abducted him as a child were now standing right outside! He grinned with delight and prepared himself for a battle he was waiting for his whole life. The battle was epic and waged on throughout the night with fire from his weapons and alien fireballs lighting up the clear night sky. When it was all over, he had prevailed. All that was left was to find his parents, or perhaps, they find him.
He waited and waited and the seasons turned until the following summer came around. Again, the same two hikers appeared. He was waiting! In their first encounter, he had noticed the scars he had inflicted on their arms years earlier. He brought them inside and he and he could tell their hearts and health were growing weaker. He told them he had a present for them and asked them to follow him to the other room. Upon entrance into the room, a loud THUD was heard as they literally dropped dead from shock and horror at what they saw! In their final seconds they became a believer as they watched the lifeless alien bodies dangle from the cabin rafters, mutilated and swinging in the soft breeze from the little open window. He had an overwhelming sense of accomplishment along with a huge grin on his face! He sat the bodies in chairs towards the back of the room where they are facing the alien bodies. He closes the door and goes off to sleep.
He never came out much after that and no one knows what became of him or what truly lies inside that cabin. Whether he stll lives or not is unclear and shrouded in mystery. There are many beliefs and theories as to what has become of him. There are those that insist he died and his ghost lingers and haunts the cabin and you can hear the bodies swing if you listen closely. Others say the aliens turned him into a freak of nature: half human, half alien. Also that the cabin is a cover that hides the spaceship and secret lair. Then there are those that say he still lives but is so deranged that he seems other worldly. Which one is true? There’s only one way to find out, IF YOU DARE!
If you are venturing out into the woods, be sure to not be alone in case you stumble upon a rickety cabin. If you find you are brave enough to enter, be prepared for what you might find for you may just drop dead from fear and doubt from what you see! Tell everyone you meet that when jogging, hiking, or just plain exploring to remember: deep in the woods stands a cabin. Occupying this cabin is a man who appears almost inhuman. He came to be in this cabin through a rather unusual ordeal.