ardenla

[ardenla]

@palatablepain Thank you so much! This poem is amazing!!

@ardenla do u want me 2 write u a poem? Or rather, would u be delighted a fraction of how delighted I would be if I were to write a poem for u?

[ardenla]

Elevating

Last night I dreamt of a strange elevator and decided to write a story with it:)

CW: psychological horror and some paranormal stuff

Word count: 1412

Vacation.

The best time of the year, to me personally at least.

I don’t hate my job, but sometimes I’m just bored of doing the same thing all year long.

Of course it brings food to the table, but still, you can probably relate.

It’s late and my best friend, Casey, and I are headed to our hotel for the night.

The flight was pretty long, but we got to see many great things on our way here.

We’ve had so many conversations, both trivial and deep, but now we both remain in silence, walking slowly up to the building we will be spending the night.

A familiar looking building appears before us.

“It’s here.” I whisper.

“Finally.” She sighs happily.

It’s well-lit outside and the front office is still open even though it’s so late.

I open the door and we drag ourselves inside.

A lady behind the counter smiles at us in a friendly manner.

“We made a reservation.” I mumble with all the power I can muster. I smile back at her.

The lady ticks with a pen against the computer screen next to her. “Let’s see…”

“Is your name Jessa?”

I nod: “Yup that’s me.” While I hand her my passport.

“Great! Here’s your room key.” She hands me a keycard.

“Thanks…”

“If you need anything, you can visit us anytime!”

I’m thankful for the cheerful desk lady. I already thought that there might be someone grumpy, who would scold us for being too late.

Our plane had been delayed so we aren’t exactly on time, but we called when we heard it, so she might have been waiting for us specifically.

“Let’s go to our room then.” Casey says while walking towards the elevator.

Without speaking we already agreed on not taking the stairs right now, that would just be too much.

She presses the button on the outside and we hear a soft ‘thing’, letting us know that the elevator is coming down for us.

I look around, it really looks as fancy as I had seen in the pictures online.

When booking I made sure that it had good reviews and was shown to be trustworthy, triple checking everything.

Another soft jingle, letting us know that it has arrived.

The two doors open and we’re greeted by an strangely old looking elevator.

Somehow it looks out of place compared to the rest of the hotel, but we’re too tired to think anything of it and just enter it.

I press the button to our floor and the doors close.

“Isn’t it strange?” Casey asks.

“What do you mean?”

She hesitates for a moment but then answers: “Doesn’t the interior of the elevator not fit the hotel at all? It looks so old.”

I shrug: “Maybe they’re stripping it for a paint job?”

The elevator starts to move.

“Did you press the button for the fourth floor?” Casey asks and I nod in response, pointing towards the button.

I take off my backpack and place it on the ground with a soft thud.

Casey does the same and leans against the wall.

Ding!

The jingle again.

Casey straightens herself again: “Didn’t we just go up one floor? It didn’t feel like we went up four?”

Could it be that we’re too tired? That we didn’t notice?

“Maybe someone needs to take the elevator as well?” I try to calm down both her and myself, but something clearly feels wrong.

The two metal doors open and another set of metal doors follow almost immediately, showing a room with two doors that probably end up in a hallway. Honestly it reminds me more of an old hospital than a hotel…

No one is here.

I take a quick peek outside.

We’re on the second floor.

Did someone push the button as a prank?

I step back and before us something suddenly lights up.

There’s an old tv and it seems to only be showing static.

For some reason it makes me feel cold inside, causing the hairs on my neck to stand up.

Was that TV standing there before?

“Hey, Jessa… Let’s press the button to the fourth floor again.” I can hear a tremble in her voice, I too feel more awake.

“…You…” The tv suddenly says and my hand shoots towards the buttons.

“…You are too late….”

The doors close and we finally get the feeling that we’re able to breathe again.

We look at each other and start laughing nervously.

“It’s still a while until Halloween… right?”

I nod, still giggling: “It’s July, but they’re already in the mood for pranks… aren’t they?”

“Well at least that woke me up a little.”

“Yeah, more than coffee!” I try to joke away the unsettling feeling that has dug itself inside my stomach.

Soon after we hear another soft jingle, after which the doors open to a completely dark hallway.

“This is not our floor either…” Casey whispers, sounding more as if talking to herself than to me.

I take my phone out of my pocket and turn on the flashlight.

“Why… are there so many mannequins?” I ask.

There are more than I can count, some covered in plastic while others are dressed in old clothes.

Why would a hotel have such a room?

Well I’m not getting off to check…

Without warning the light in the elevator turns of, turning on again about a second later.

I turn my gaze towards the buttons again.

Something is strange.

I was sure… No, I'm 100% sure that there were only four floors on this!

And now, it’s filled with a lot more…

Numbers seem to even go towards one-hundred!

Casey is staring outside of the small box we find ourselves in.

“Hey… Jess… We better go…”

She doesn’t need to tell me twice, I push the fourth floor button again.

Only when the doors close again do I find my ability to talk again: “Something was moving… wasn’t it.”

Casey’s eyes look teary and she nods, she’s terrified and so am I. The least I can do is pretend that I’m not.

But I’m not sure if I really want to spend the night here anymore and that thought hurts.

I know it’s true, but… it might be safer.

The elevator starts to move again, but this time it goes sideways.

“What the heck?!”

I quickly clasp the hand rails making sure that I don’t fall.

Finally we come to a stop.

The doors open very slowly this time, but only the elevators inside doors, the outside ones are still closed.

A dent appears in the other door.

Before I can say anything another appears and Casey starts to panic: “Close it! Close the door!”

The doors slowly start opening.

Frantically she pushes me aside and starts pushing the close button before I can.

The dented door closes and so does ours.

“What was that?” I ask.

“I think someone was shooting at us, the sound and the strange dents…”

So we nearly escaped with our lives?

Just what kind of hotel is this?

I checked their site before and it seemed to be a normal enough one, did we just happen to pick a bad night?

“Jessa, I’m not sure if we really still are inside the hotel…”

Is that it? No it can’t be!

“What do you mean?” I say, trying my best to stop myself from panicking.

“None of the rooms we stopped had anything to do with the hotel, we checked the photos together before choosing which hotel we picked. This hotel shouldn’t have any of these!”

I can’t breathe…

Even though Casey seems to be the most in distress out of the two of us, she notices.

She moves towards me and embraces me, slowly we both sit down on the floor.

“It’s not your fault. Something else is going on.” She whispers gently into my ear.

My body is shaking uncontrollably and breathing is difficult.

“Casey… I-I don’t think…”

She caresses my head: “I think so too. The elevator isn’t going to let us go easily. I think we should leave as soon as we can. Maybe when we arrive at a place that looks safe?”

I nod, still trembling.

The elevator goes dark again even though we haven’t stopped yet.

I take out my phone again and look around the room.

Something has started seeping down.

“What’s that?” I ask, pointing towards it.

A thick dark liquid is slowly entering the elevator from the ceiling, slowly gliding amongst the walls.

Casey stops her embrace to look at what I’m pointing at, taking out her own phone and scanning our surroundings.

“Hey… where did all the buttons go?”

A headache…

Those memories that somehow found a way into your head, playing themselves over and over again like a broken record.

They aren’t yours.

You’re certain.

Unlike the previous guests, you are yourself, not them and you are all alone.

You didn’t even enter a hotel, you entered at a completely different spot.

It seems like this elevator brings people to a different place each time, almost as if teleporting.

Will you survive the situation?

Or will you become just another memory for the next person?

[ardenla]

Burglary

My most recent short horror story:))

CW: mentions of suicide

Word count: 2276

It's almost in the middle of the night when I lay my eyes on the old mansion before me.

A beautiful old house, with well-kept gardens and giant windows looking out over the land around it as if it's king of all. For some, such a building is a dream, yet for others it is nothing short of a nightmare.

There hangs a deadly silence in the air, one that makes me shiver.

I chuckle softly because of my own reaction.

Because, tonight I'm the one who is feared.

The thought really hits me hard now, making me quiver.

I'm the evil going into that house tonight.

The one who will be taking things from a place the owners might call home.

I'm the uninvited guest.

The one desecrating a home and making the people living in it feel forever unsafe.

I'm a burglar.

I hate it. I hate it so much.

That sickening feeling... will I ever get used to this?

Because if it's going to go the right way, I will have no choice but to continue it.

I guess I really have hit rock bottom, the darkest pit I might never climb out of again.

I just hope I won't drag my family down with me, but then again... Haven't I already?

This attempt...

"Yo Ralph!" My fellow evildoer whisper-yells at me: "Earth to Ralph!"

"Yes, what is it, Stephen?"

"Are we going in or what?"

I nod: "Alright."

The man shakes his head: "That doesn't sound very convincing, once you're done with this job you'll be rich!"

"There will be another job after that, knowing the boss and you."

He shrugs: "Never the one to be happy with something, eh?" He continues rather loudly: "You know, at least now you might be able to pay those hospital bills for your ch-"

"Shut it!" I hiss: "They might hear us!"

Stephen stops immediately, I haven't known him for that long and I guess he's never seen me angry or frustrated before.

We remain quiet for a minute, but nothing happens.

Stephen starts to giggle, the terribly annoying kind. He's probably already scared, just trying to hide it.

Making our way towards the house's back door, Stephen takes out a couple of tools, lockpicks of all kinds.

That's the thing he's best in and it might be the only thing.

His tools move swiftly until we both hear a faint 'click'.

The door is now open...

Before we enter I take another glance around the area, it's dark and I can't see much. Though I get the feeling that we're being watched from somewhere.

Somewhere higher in the building, from one of the windows overseeing the land around it.

But I can't be sure, there's simply no way to tell. The house itself is even darker than the fields arounds me.

The door creaks silently as Stephen leans against it and we enter the building without uttering another word.

An old moldy-kind of smell greets us.

"This place is not abandoned... is it?" I ask.

"I'm pretty sure the folks living here are just on vacation, I made sure of it."

It sounds like he's trying to reassure himself, he might not have done all the research after all. Damn...

The light grey moonlight from outside is filtering through the dust-covered windows, showing us that we're in the house's kitchen.

The light washes gently onto the cold tiled floor and interior.

Many cabinets line the walls, some with glass doors, showing things like pans, pots and other kitchen utilities.

There's a big oven that feels strangely threatening in the middle of the room. It stands there as if guarding the door, protecting the rest of the house from us.

"Man, it's dusty as hell in here..." Stephen sighs.

I don't respond, instead I keep on walking.

I could turn on my flashlight, but it could possibly alert others and getting used to the dark is vital.

Stephen coughs and starts following me, then takes the lead again.

We open the next door and find ourselves in an old dining room, most of the furniture is covered in spider webs. It looks to not have been used for quite a while.

There's a fruit bowl on the table, in which lies fruit that has become unrecognisable due to decomposing.

It seems like even the flies don't want it anymore.

Entering the first hallway we notice a door close to the one we came from.

It loudly groans as I open it.

"Hah." Stephen smirks: "Wanna go down the basement?"

I shake my head in disappointment: "You know it's useless."

"I don't know, maybe you wanted to reenact a horror movie?" Stephen sarcastically jokes, making me wonder if it might have been more productive if I went alone.

"Where do you think they kept their valuables?"

My fellow burglar drops his shoulders annoyed: "Bedrooms most likely, though some houses like these have special rooms in which they specifically keep money. But we might not even have to get up there, some fancy people keep their junk scattered around their homes."

Right, he probably means things like small statues, fancy lamps or other kinds of things that can be sold.

Opening another door we find ourselves inside the heart of the mansion.

A grand staircase leads up into more darkness, the light entering here is strangely few, perhaps it is time to start using my flashlight now.

"Look at all those paintings!" Stephen joyfully exclaims: "Those only are worth a lot!"

I don't like them, it feels as if they're following me with their eyes.

So many paintings.

This family must have seen a lot of people, let alone this house...

Both good and bad.

Well Stephen and I do belong to the latter, but still.

Slowly he starts taking a couple of paintings of the walls, until one seems to be stuck.

"Ralph, I think I found the safe!"

"In the main hall? Seriously?"

"Well anyway, you can either help me with this or look around if you can find something for yourself. What I find is for me after all."

Right... he's still an asshole.

"Alright, I'll be around." I nod, but I don't think he even heard me.

Gazing through the darkness I notice an old clock at the top of the stairs.

I look at my watch, but it seems like the old clock has been broken. The time is all messed up.

I better stay close to Stephen, so going upstairs is a no-go, so I make my way to one of the doors on the ground floor.

The room I enter seems to be some kind of living room.

There are a couple of leather benches around the fire-place and an old chair, in which I can only believe the oldest family member would sit. Perhaps a grandmother or -father. Sitting there and reading the newspaper.

For a house that's not abandoned, it does look incredibly dated.

Yes, there's nothing like graffiti or anything and some places do seem to have been cleaned better and more recently than the kitchen.

Here too are many paintings and in one of the corners stands an old record-player that one might only find in a special antique store or a museum.

Are the inhabitants of this place really on vacation?

I look around, getting distracted by the family photos on the walls and chimney.

They really seem to go back hundreds of years, eventually going over into family paintings.

There are even some pictures from back in the 19th century.

Finally I find more recent photos, a young family with a child that doesn't seem to want to be posing in the photo, about maybe three years old.

There are more photos of this family throughout the years, leading, eventually to the child being in his teens.

Right, I have to look for something sellable...

I try to take away my attention from the photos only to end up having it taken by a couple of newspaper clippings on the coffee table.

Death.

Mysterious death.

Suicide?

What's up with these titles?

"What the hell?! Leave me the fuck alone!!" I suddenly hear Stephen's muffled voice call from the other room.

Is he in trouble?

I rush towards it, leaving the room without a second glance.

For a split second I see my companion being taken away by a shadow, being pulled screaming into the darkness.

I try to run after them, but something strange happens, stopping me almost immediately.

At first I believe the house itself is breathing, the walls seem to bow and the floor trembles. The paintings that still hang in their respective places seem to tremble as well and a couple of potted plants move slightly from where they were standing.

But there's something else.

The stairs.

It's like they're inverting and the floor is changing.

As if the house just decided to shake things up a little and have the ground floor become the second one instead. Or perhaps have the second floor become the basement or the ground floor?

It's truly too strange to be put into words.

As I blink, I find myself on the second floor, nothing seems to have changed, just my location.

But I can't be sure if this is the right way everything is.

Has the house been mirrored?

I feel cold and even though it's dark I see small clouds forming every time I breathe.

Why does it all feel so strange?

Stephen is nowhere to be seen.

The silence is uncomfortable, making me feel as if thousands of eyes watch me, able to see right through my soul and back.

For a moment I stand frozen.

Is that shadow person going to come back?

Is it going to come back and take me as well?

Suddenly I hear something whisper close to my ear, inaudible, but as if lips are almost touching it.

I turn around, but find no one standing next to me.

Should I be happy about this or worried?

As I look the way of the whisper, I notice a dark hallway, with at the end an open door, lighted by the moon outside.

Without a thought, or perhaps suppressing thinking completely, I wander calmly towards the room.

I enter.

The walls look light blue in the light entering.

The windows here are more clean than anywhere else in this building.

In a way, it also feels a bit more modern.

Is something happening outside? I wonder as I walk towards the window, not registering anything inside. Somehow too weary and tired for it.

"Good evening sir." An unfamiliar, yet gentle voice greets me from behind, sounding strangely calm.

Quickly I spin around and see a boy sitting on a chair that seems to be rather out of place in the middle of the room.

Wait... isn't he the one from the pictures?

A gentle breeze from outside blows inside the building, making me notice something moving above the child.

There's no doubt about it.

It's a noose.

The look on the child's face turns to one of embarrassment as he sees that I've noticed.

"Hey kid, what the hell are you planning on doing?!"

Before I know it I speak in a worried tone, not worried for myself, but for the one who's house I've broken into. The one who's feeling of safety I have possibly destroyed.

I just can't... My own kid is around his age. I can't let him get through with this!

The boy laughs coldly: "Shouldn't you be scared that I might call the police?"

"Just why?"

"Don't worry about it, I won't. I don't need any of the stuff in this building anyway."

I shake my head, without taking my eyes off him.

The boy turns to me and gives me a sad smile: "I'm not supposed to be here..."

"What do you mean? You are! Every person has the right to live!"

"For a burglar you are a kind man, but you are wrong."

Once again I stand frozen in place, at this point I don't even care about the police catching me.

I shake my head, ignoring his previous words of kindness: "Maybe there is something, perhaps somewhere you-"

I need to do something, I need to come up with a plan.

But he cuts me off: "Sir... my body and soul have long been separated. I am simply no longer among the living."

His words make me feel even colder, but a part of me had already known. For him to be alive in a place like this...

"Is there something I can do for you? I know it's too late, but maybe there is something?"

How could this have happened to him?

"If only you or someone like you had come along earlier, than maybe I might have still really been here..." He sighs: "I'm not even sure if it really was by my own hand."

"Ah, right maybe Stephen can-" I walk towards the door. But stop myself.

The ghost before me looks shocked: "You... are not alone?"

I shake my head: "I don't know where he is though. Something took him... I think."

What happened back there, did I really see it? What if it was just in my head?

"Do you know what it is that might have taken him?" I ask the boy.

His face turns tired and sad: "I do not know what it is, but it keeps luring people in. I don't know how to get rid of it either."

"I see... so we were not the only ones getting lost in here..." I mumble more to myself.

"If I may, why did you try to convince me otherwise?"

"I'm a human being and so are you. I also have a child around your age."

"Is that the reason why you broke in?"

I look down: "Pretty much, those hospital bills are too much for me to pay with a normal job."

"I see..." The boy answers: "Well, if you need anything. I won't stop you."

I shake my head: "No, after tonight, I just can't."

"Well, perhaps we might meet again... Until then." The boy smiles and vanishes soon after.

I stretch out my hand, but he's already gone. I couldn't even call him back, the words won't come out.

I guess it's time to leave this place for me now, even though the boy told me I could, I feel uneasy about taking anything.

I don't want anything inside this house.

I don't want to touch it or even think about it.

[ardenla]

@krisharcher21 Thank you for the tag!

I am aroace, but it was still a fun test to do!

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[ardenla]

i don't know you super well, but i think u are really neat! i like seeing you in my notifs and look forward to keep getting 2 know u!

Thank you!

Same here, I enjoy seeing your posts!

[ardenla]

The piano

Sorry for the few updates, I've been very busy lately.

Here's a short story I wrote, this time one that isn't horror.

Word count: 350

It’s already gotten dark outside of the old train station and I still have to wait a while for my ride home to arrive.

Luckily I’m far from the only person here, though the station is old, it’s one connected to many others.

People bustle around me, some are walking, others are running and some are sitting around. All passing the time in their own ways.

Wandering slowly towards the platform I have to go to, I’m suddenly taken by a soft melody.

A melody coming from one of the corners, close to the dark windows.

Many people seem to just walk past it, ignoring it and others, like me seem to be captivated by it.

I come to a halt and observe.

A girl with silver earrings sits behind an old and worn piano, her fingers rapidly running over the many different keys of the instrument.

She’s completely oblivious to the few people who are watching, completely absorbed in her own work. Playing as if she’s the only one in the building.

I take a seat close by and continue listening.

The girl clearly has had many years of practice, creating a melancholic and vaguely familiar melody.

I wonder where I heard it before…

She plays and plays until eventually she seems to lose her concentration, she presses a couple of wrong keys and then stands up and walks away. Leaving the room in complete silence.

She has either given up or perhaps had to catch her train.

Still the people who came to listen remain around the instrument for a bit, even for so late at night, it had drawn quite a bit of people watching. From business people to a couple of hidden beggars. 

The girl who had left, had gone without a glance or a word to her onlookers and the room somehow seemed empty.

For some people the spell has been broken after just a minute and I can see them leave.

I look at my watch, but see that I still have to wait a bit longer.

The piano now sits empty, there’s no music and no one even trying to press the keys, to see if they even still work.

[ardenla]

@krisharcher21

Thanks for the tag!

Cinnamon, mauve, lavender, saffron, tangerine

I think you're a pretty cool person and your poetry is great!

I'm not sure who to tag, so I'm tagging you back @krisharcher21

See what your followers think!

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[ardenla]

Dreamselling

My most recent short horror story.

Word count: 748

TW: Existential horror/dread

To sell your dream.

Dreamselling

Sold dreams

Someone decides their dreams impossible and sells them to someone without dreams

"I've had it!" I yell: "Mine is just simply unachievable!"

My colleague laughs: "Some dreams just are that way, many people here sell them, here there's no need for them anyway. Dreams just get in the way of getting finished."

We're sitting inside the grey lunch room of our workplace.

I turn to him and lean back: "Did you sell yours?"

A proud smile crosses his face: "Of course I did, daydreaming doesn't get you anywhere and I earned money with it too!"

I shake my head: "I don't think that it's the right thing to do."

"Why not?" He looks surprised.

A colourful memory comes back to me, one from very long ago, when I was still a child. I was playing in the green grass of my grandmother's garden. In both the bright yellow of the sun and the shade of an old tree from which the pink leaves almost seemed to glow.

That day so many years ago I told her my dream, the one I still hold to this day.

"That is such a wonderful dream, don't ever give up on it okay?" My grandmother told me after listening to it. I was so happy to hear those words, she wanted me to achieve that dream.

"So, why haven't you sold it yet?" My colleague asks again, taking me out of the blissful memory.

I shrug.

He continues: "If you do, you don't ever have to complain about it anymore. Life is so much lighter and happier without it."

"I know, I know... Live in the moment, right?"

He nods proudly: "I knew you would come to understand it."

The bell buzzes, letting us know that it's time to go back to work.

Back in my spot I think back about the conversation, should I do it? Should I not do it?

Honestly the dream hurts, I'm far from the place where I truly want to be.

As I get back to my apartment I find a bill lying on the floor by the door.

Damn, I guess I'll be losing a big chunk of my loan again.

Hesitantly I open the letter and look pained towards the many numbers.

Will I have enough to escape during the holiday? Or not?

I let out a long sigh and head to bed.

Closing my eyes I only find nightmares to haunt me, to taunt me.

This dream of mine is really that bothersome... isn't it?

After another day of work I feel more and more overwhelmed. Should I make the appointment? Would that bring happiness in my life?

It takes a while before I finally decide to go through with it...

"Please." The doctor gestures towards the bed and I lie down on it.

He notices that I'm a bit hesitant: "Don't worry, you will only come out a better person." He tells me in his kind voice.

I nod in response and the doctor pushes the bed with me on it into the machine.

There really is no going back now.

By the memory of my grandmother's words I start to quietly sob.

I'm sorry grandma, I'm really sorry, but I can't live with such an unachievable dream. Only to see others that have already achieved and others that already live that life that I want. It's better for me to leave it behind, to burn it, to let it be eaten by the flames. To leave it for another with a better chance.

The following years I work hard, get promoted multiple times and climb into the highest ranks. It's not because I want to go there, it's just because I don't care. Once you do something good enough you get faster at it too.

A colourful scene appears before me once again, it has been so long and yet in a way it also seems to have the same dull and grey look as the rest of the world.

Do I remember it correctly?

This is what I originally wanted, right?

Why do I feel so empty?

I've achieved that what I once dreamed of.

Oh, right... It's because I sold it... right?

I don't dream of this anymore, so it's simply useless.

It doesn't bring me happiness.

It doesn't bring me joy.

Because I left it behind.

I left it for another. Something better with quicker satisfaction.

Why did I even decide to sell it in the first place?

I feel strange.

Is that the feeling of regret?

This thick, slowly slithering snake, showing me the emptiness of my heart.

Was it really just a dream that I sold? Or was it more than that?

Was the money that I received from it really worth it?

[ardenla]

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."

[ardenla]

Thank you for the tag:)

Here are the five things you will always find in my works:

Ghosts

Unreliable narrator

Strange twists

Paranoia

Emotional

Tagging: @gore-void @mika3lmy3r2 @emmettkane @noisylime

5 things you will always find in my fics

Tagged by @cromwelll thank you!

Shipping

Present tense

Song lyric titles

Pop culture references

Exact word counts

Now I want to write something that includes NONE of these lol </3

Tagging five fellow fic writers: @0nelittlebirdtoldme @complicitsacrilege @goblins-riddles-or-frocks @udaberriwrites and @17panicattacksinatrenchcoat or anyone who wants to play :)

[ardenla]

Recently I had a pretty strange dream.

In it I finished a Resident evil 7/8- like game and unlocked a special mode in which the game suddenly turned in this weird interactive reality tv-show about the final boss and the protagonist swapping homes for a week or so.

The protagonist (who spend the week in that huge horror mansion) was all like "Great place, nice staff, though it's unfortunate that the toilets are always clogged."

And the end boss started talking about how he had always wanted to live in a tiny house (the protagonist had a normal house, pretty big for just one person) and had always been wanting to try and be self-sufficient.

All this in a horror game...

When I woke up I thought it was unfortunate that there isn't any game I know of that does this. I think it would be pretty funny.

[ardenla]

in the rain

A short horror story I wrote last year, I'm surprised to find out I hadn't posted it here before.

Word count: 1848

TW: psychological horror

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...

[ardenla]

Delivery

A short horror story I wrote:)

Word count: 1757

TW: Gore, psychological horror

Click, click, click, thunk!

It could not comprehend what it saw above us.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Carefully and slowly we make our way to the door.

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

I swear that is some great tech…

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

The trusty sound of my crossbow.

The gentle ticking of the automaton’s gears.

The dripping of water… or blood.

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

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

It was so strange, well the whole thing.

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

I found the machine inside a coffin shaped box.

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

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

A soft sobbing behind the door takes my attention.

I listen more carefully.

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

So, there might be another survivor in there.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Immediately I feel cold sweat in my neck.

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

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

“Get in!” I whisper to it.

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

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

Suddenly I sense something moving.

There really is still someone in the building.

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

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

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

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

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

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

The look he shows me is one of pure terror.

I lower my weapon.

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

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

“No sir, as you can see I’m not.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he shakes his head.

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

“We’ll be going anyway.” I shrug.

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

I curse and quickly grab the automaton’s arm.

“We gotta go!”

We rush further back.

Back door. Back door.

Where the hell is the back door?!

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

I hear the priest scream.

The monster turns to him.

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

The crushing of bones.

The tearing of flesh.

The dripping of blood.

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

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

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

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

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

It’s much bigger than the church.

Again I hold my weapon ready.

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

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

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

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

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

I remain silent and listen to the soft noise.

There might be another person in that room.

Quietly I walk towards the door and open it.

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

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

“Oh… so you’re human?”

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

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

“I see.”

“Do you have any memories of attending school?”

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

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

“I see, that must be nice.”

I take a step closer.

“What are you reading?” I ask curiously.

“A book of faith.”

“Faith?”

“It’s all true you know.”

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

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

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

Crap that only made him yell even louder.

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

Something from outside is trying to climb inside.

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

I warn the man by pointing behind him.

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

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

We rush out, further, out of the city.

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

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

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

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

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

Wait…?!

Is it nodding?!

[ardenla]

The not-so-genius detective

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

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

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

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

Word count: 2076

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

“And this is detective Jayden Falkenstein.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What…?!

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

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

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

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

…

…

He really is…

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

I cough: “So chief, what’s the plan?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Already?” The detective asks pouting.

That really can’t be an adult…

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

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

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

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

Then the other thing that I notice…

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

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

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

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

He’s comfortable in that?!

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

The audacity.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The idiot smiles brightly: “Yes please.”

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

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

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

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

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

Or perhaps I should set him the good example.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s asking me.

Damnit, how clueless can a person be?

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

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

“Ha, a six-year-old could do better.”

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

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

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

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

Is he even still breathing?

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

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

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

Or should I-

Crunch…

Crunch……

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

Guess who it is…

Jaiden…

Again.

Yep. That’s right…

He’s eating a bag of chips.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We should go this way.”

“Why?” I ask.

Did he suddenly have a good idea?

“The scavenger hunt continues down that hall.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

I swear I’m done with this guy.

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

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

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

I guess he does have basic manners.

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

“Still I’m really sorry.”

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

We still have to catch someone.

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

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

“Thank you.” My babysitting job answers politely.

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

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

The paper really was just a piece of random paper.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I glance at my colleague.

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

Though dumb luck did most of the job.

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

[ardenla]

Seashell

Here's the most recent short horror story I wrote:)

Word count: 772

TW: Gore

Many years ago the harsh summer heat had killed most of the crops needed to feed a small town.

All were coloured brown and mushy even before being picked.

Autumn was quickly approaching and the people had to come up with a solution in order to save up enough to be able to live through the soon to arrive winter.

The town had gathered to speak of the matter and to find a possible solution.

"Maybe we should ask the other towns for help." One of the men offered.

"No, their crops have all perished as well. If not they must have the devil in their grounds." Another shouted, refuting the other.

Idea after idea was being turned down with refutes like 'too dangerous' or 'against all that is holy' or 'just plain stupid'.

This conversation that existed mostly of panicked yelling continued on for a bit, almost turning into a fight.

"Maybe we should try the sea?" A young child offered, it was a wonder that they were even heard. Their tiny voice was so soft, yet somehow still being audible to the people.

The room turned silent.

Perhaps it was the idea itself that had spoken the loudest, attracting everyone's attention.

The town usually fished during winter, but perhaps this was their only option right now.

Without food, they just wouldn't last.

And thus the decision was made.

All the capable men of the village would be sent out with the few ships they had, one to fish and another to travel further.

It didn't take long before departure.

Women and children stayed behind and wished the travellers 'See you soon'.

One of the families that was split that day was that of the shoemakers. The husband and oldest son went on the ship, while the wife and four other children stayed behind in the village.

The oldest son was about fourteen, back then seen almost as a grown-up and had to help at the ship like everyone else.

Their ship was the one traveling further.

At first all seemed to be going well.

For food they fished and in their first catch, the shoemaker found a beautiful seashell. He immediately knew that he wanted to give it to his wife when he would return, so he hid it in his pockets.

A couple of days went by and then it all went wrong.

A storm had caught the ship and its crew before they could flee.

Waves as high as castle towers threw themselves at the ship, causing the ship to make an eerie hollow sound at first and then the sound of something breaking could be heard.

One wave after another crashed the ship further, making it move sideways, causing the big wooden construct to lie down in the water.

The panicking crew ran around, tumbling, screaming.

The shoemaker dropped the shell he had found and tried to jump after it.

Just in time he caught it from falling off, but a piece of splintered wood impaled him and dragged him into the hungry ocean.

He was not the only one to succumb to this fate.

On the golden beach the shoemaker's wife looked towards the dark clouds in the distance.

Are they okay? She wondered, would the crew come back all right with a solution for the winter?

The woman stopped walking, while the wind gently blew her hair and skirt into a dance.

She bowed down, something in the cold, wet sand had taken her attention.

Something stuck out.

It was a beautiful seashell, one foreign to the village people.

It glistened welcoming in the sunlight, its smooth service almost seemed to reflect herself back to her like a mirror would.

There was just something soothing about the object lying before her.

The woman reached down for the shell and felt the cold touch her fingers, she was going to take this with her.

Would the sea take it back if she didn't take it?

Or would another be captured by its beauty and take it with them?

The shell had appeared before her and only her, so it's hers now.

Arriving back home she placed it above the fireplace in the living room.

As she put it down, she heard something strange.

Was it the rain?

She quickly glanced outside to the darker growing sky, yet no drop of water had shown itself.

Was that the sound of wood breaking?

The woman looked around, but found nothing breaking. Neither by child nor wind.

The dark clouds started to swallow the land.

The woman picked the shell up again.

The shell was making the sounds.

She held it next to her ear.

At first she heard nothing.

But then she heard the voice of her husband.

"Dearest, the ship went down." He spoke as if he was in the freezing cold.

"Our son is still at sea."

"If not saved quickly, he too will join the rest of us."

[ardenla]

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."

[ardenla]

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."