Tag: horror

Forlorn Town’s Mysteries (Short Story)

Literature Wednesday is here, so, as promised…

DISCLAIMER: the events and the characters mentioned in this story are the product of the author’s imagination, partly inspired by a family trip.

Forlorn cities, towns, and villages, you preserve the history, the very spirit of authentic life before globalization unified it all in unrecognizable masses. The uniqueness of each place is so earnestly and strikingly breathtaking; these places still have their souls.

As it was in this case: no traffic, no crowded streets, no identical distant, glimmering buildings forged from glass and metal, only short, squatted red brick and wooden ones… Their boarded windows resembled firmly shut eyes, as if these houses were sleeping, waiting for the old tenants to return eventually under their leaky roofs. The 19th-century air is mingled with ’80s nostalgia, together weaving an atmosphere of sweet longing and suspense.

Old cars and decrepit shops were gaping at us with their dark windows, plaster stone angels on the corners of the antique buildings would probably fly away if not for broken wings or limbs. The playgrounds were iron and rusty, but to our surprise, we noticed a couple of kids hanging out there. They didn’t play or climb anything though; they were sitting and watching us intently with their large solemn eyes. These children were like little guardians of a dark mystery buried deep in the heart of this town, and their task was to keep an eye on us, making sure we wouldn’t discover more than allowed.

It was an uncanny thought, but my chaotic, ever-active mind soon jumped to feeling bewitched again by the slow pace and the intricate charm of this place. Historic houses, antique lives, enchanting ruins – all these things heightened my inspiration. The nostalgic wind carried the delightful fragrance of the cherry blossoms, playfully tearing their petals, and thus creating the pearly blizzard so reminiscent of the winter snow.

The ruins are the most charming when adorned with fresh flowers and greenery, for what is this scenery if not the love embrace of life and death?

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7

False Memories (Part 4)

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3

DISCLAIMER: the events and the characters mentioned in this story are the product of the author’s imagination


I woke up in the middle of the night, full of unease. I checked the time: it was 3 am. I fell back on the pillow, but my nerves were strangely strained, so I couldn’t relax. Something was off all the time: the pillow was uncomfortable, my heart was pounding loudly, I heard muffled noises and movements behind the walls and the door. The very air was filled with a menacing presence. 

First, I tried to calm myself down, to promise myself to visit the psychiatrist – it didn’t matter how angry I was at Desi, maybe she was right. I must do something with my rich imagination because it was out of bounds to the extent it wasn’t safe for me… I shut my eyelids firmly with an intent to fall back asleep and tried to steady my breath and feel the heaviness of my body, though still, everything about this quiet, moonlit room was disturbing. I felt as if someone was watching me, observing carefully, hatefully, hungrily… I pulled the blanket overhead, trying to drape myself in the warm darkness, to lull my thoughts, to trick my tired brain back into sleeping. Instead, I caught myself concentrating on the leaves I left at my friend’s kitchen, my thoughts instantly full of crimson and gold. Next, I was fixed at how she drummed with her fingers on the table when I asked for her opinion. I suddenly became infuriated at Desi all over again: she never actually knew me! That girl pretended to be some kind of guru when it came to people, but she never saw their true essence. Her constant gossiping is built of classifying, labeling and judging. Why did I even go for Desi’s help if all she knew about me was her assumptions and conjectures? People called that “friendship”? Seriously?!

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15

False Memories (Part 3)

Part 1
Part 2
Part 4

DISCLAIMER: the events and the characters mentioned in this story are the product of the author’s imagination

Three weeks had passed since the moment I had this dream. On the surface, life went on as usual: the unchanging routine, the same duties, the repeated actions at a constant pace and at an invariable time. I escaped from the mundane reality on my lonely immersive walks accompanied by music; I needed these shots of euphoria and freedom to keep myself from slipping into insanity, yet I was pretty close to it: drowning deeper and deeper in the bottomless sea of darkness, day after day, hour after hour, second after second.

First and foremost, I had these dreams full of eerie, unsettling, and absolutely obscene scenes. Seriously, I think that no one in their sane mind could dream of something that disturbing, definitely not unless they had watched a pile of sick, deviant horrors right before falling asleep. The worst thing about them was that they were very vivid, very personal, like memories.

Every night, I dreamed or perhaps even participated in deeds that went beyond the forbidden, but there was a touch of ancient mystery to that. What is more, something instinctive, dark, and almost primal filled these rituals. The fact that those things were acceptable in the wild made them innate and sacred for us.

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5

False Memories (Part 2)

Part 1
Part 3
Part 4

DISCLAIMER: the events and the characters mentioned in this story are the product of the author’s imagination

And all of a sudden, the alarm went off. I was so astonished I sat up straight in an instant, looking around with incredulity: I was home! Could it all have been just a vivid nightmare then? Somehow, I seriously doubted that. I didn’t remember going to sleep; quite the opposite, I could perfectly recall every bitter detail of yesterday’s quarrel. I sneezed – exactly. I also had no doubts that I was drenched by rain while parading the night streets in shorts and unzipped. Still, I was in my bed, in pajamas, my yesterday’s clothes hanging on the chairs’ back. 

In addition to all that, I got a splitting headache. The light – even this murky tender morning light which happens only right before dawn – seemed to be dazzling. I was completely disoriented. I stood up with a moan, and the whole world became blurred and shaky. Besides, my feet were still in pain. I sat down again.

The light was a problem here; I knew that it somehow affected the way I feel, so I decided to pull down the curtains and think. My eyesight was distorted; I couldn’t look directly at any object: my headache immediately returned magnified one thousand times. So I closed my eyes and started retracing yesterday’s walk, or rather my escape from home. 

First and foremost – we quarreled. Two adult sisters living together is… hm, a challenging task. If only we had enough money and the place we could go we’d leave each other immediately. But as for now, we had neither choice, nor sources. 

We were so different: She and I. Martha was brave and charismatic, always the center of attention. The awareness of that made Her addicted to the admiration of the crowd. My Sister spent all Her time on social media, impressing the public with retouched selfies and generated quotes, forgetting that these were fabricated lies that had little to do with her real self.

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3

False Memories (Part 1)

Part 2
Part 3
Part 4

DISCLAIMER: the events and the characters mentioned in this story are the product of the author’s imagination

I guess it all began the moment I slammed the door loudly, causing the tiny rivers and streams of stone dust and chalk to run down onto the floor. I quickly scrutinized the tiny crevices and cracks around the doorframe – eternal remnants of my mood swings and our bitter quarrels… I ran down the steps diving into the silver moonlight that stole all the colors of this world except for black and white… 

I could discern the catlike silhouettes in the silver slits of windows. All the voices from different flats were mixed and united in one preaching chorus, and all the graffities and scribbles that casually adorned the staircase during the day now were turned into magical patterns and figures. Like cavemen, we continue on and on to mark our achievements, wishes and feelings, etching them deep into the wall.

The entrance door swung open, welcoming the wet, damp wind to fill the darkness. A few rare cool drops of rain fell on my face, mingling and mixing with tears, calming me, reviving and suddenly filling everything with a sense of hope again. I went out, looking up at the sky and breathing deeply, trying to regain composure. My jacket was unzipped carelessly, my strides were long and bold… It was an attempt to become one with the wind, one with the coming storm, to cast off all formalities, reject the laws of physics, and fly over the earth in elemental fury.

A burning array of yellow windows was outlined brightly against the gray carcasses of the buildings, almost indiscernible in the surrounding darkness… I wish I could say the same about the drunken crowd of people, who were shouting and cursing loudly, while checking out the surroundings with an immense hunger for destruction. So I halted for a moment, praying to become invisible. 

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14

Shadow Path (part 4)

Parts:
1st part;
2nd part;
3d part;
4th part;
5th part

Finally, she was in bed, her sweet bay of calmness and safe abode for her body when her soul was lost in other worlds. Ani simultaneously felt a relaxing warmth and intense exultation – now it would happen, she would finally find a way to infinity, now, she had an opportunity to join it. She took the pills…then she waited for half an hour, but still she wasn’t sleeping. ‘How long should I wait for it to come?’ The pillow was utterly uncomfortable, so Ani tossed and turned in her bed, twisting and rolling her pillow in countless ways she could stack under her head, covering and uncovering herself with the blanket, feeling either too cold or too warm, until finally the girl simply threw both the blanket and the pillow away, laying on her back and looking at the ceiling.

After some time the thought struck her: ‘I need more’. So Ani took more, and after the following hours of irritating insomnia, she started taking handful after handful of pills. This time, the girl swallowed medicine with wine, drinking more and more of it, until she finally felt at ease and relaxed. The world was swirling, everything was swaying, changing in its liquid, unstable forms – somewhat like Dali’s aesthetics. She felt a great pressure on her body, as if being under many gallons of water. The girl wouldn’t move at this moment, she simply transformed, twisted and shifted her form a uncountable number of times…and dissolved…

Ani appeared in the empty dark room with the windows facing the forest. It was night, and the enormous full moon had risen above, lighting this place poorly. When the girl’s eyes adjusted to the darkness, she saw that the walls of the building were crumbling and decrepit. Ani felt with all her soul that she was utterly, absolutely alone in this place, with no living soul around. She felt an eerie, maddening terror. And then she understood that it had been a dream. In the corner, she saw the trembling shade – rising, growing, shrinking, then disappearing completely and later reappearing again. No doubt it was the path. She got on it, went and ran, while the surroundings, places and sceneries were changing, shifting, dancing in a fluid motion, spinning and whirling around her. 

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4

Shadow Path (part 3)

Parts:
1st part;
2nd part;
3d part;
4th part;
5th part


Ani turned off her laptop and took her phone. It was already evening, and she was afraid of running into Leo on her way. The girl looked around, and listened carefully. She couldn’t hear her brother; he probably was in his room, definitely not outside, because she didn’t hear the slam of the door. Ani approached it and listened: still, there was no evidence of sound. She held her breath and glided silently into the hall, carefully and soundlessly putting on her coat and her shoes, and sneaked past the door…

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4

Shadow Path (part 2)

Parts:
1st part;
2nd part;
3d part;
4th part;
5th part

Ani had a lot of energy because of the long rest she had taken, and she didn’t want to sit still in one place. Once again, she crossed the room several times, looking out of the windows, or staring at random things on her way, she leafed through a book, then looked inside a cup, took her smartphone and found that the battery was dead as usual… She threw it on the sofa without looking. Nothing of importance.  After a second of silent reflection, she started searching on the shelves randomly, chaotically, looking for her pills. Nothing. ‘What does Leo think he’s doing? I can call the doctor on my own without a glimpse of hesitation and complain, and claim he’s lying, he can’t threaten me! Manipulator! It is all his fault anyways.’ The girl rummaged further angrily through the shelves, then pulled out the drawers sharply to check what was inside. She also examined the desk, the tops of the bookcase and the dresser, until eventually she stumbled upon the notepad with an intricate cover and wondered what it could possibly be. Finally, assuming that it was her brother’s, she opened it, out of spite, smiling vindictively. ‘I’ll show you’…

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8

Steps

I always heard these footsteps as a child. They were thumping somewhere above the ceiling, then closer, approaching the door. I heard them clearer and clearer as they passed the threshold, and later the hall, walking back and forth. I held my breath, hiding behind the sofa, sitting very still, motionless, only my heart pounded hectically, crazily. And despite that quick, loud melody of my heartbeat, I heard the heavy breath and the millions and myriads of movements and whispers out there.

Sometimes, as it seemed to my disturbed imagination, they were intermingled with dark and catchy verses and tales. And when my ear was tuned to that narrative which absorbed me gradually, the visions of the strangest scenes and faces appeared before my eyes, and I was sure that all of these could have happened to me: in the different lives and the different epochs. And that this voice and these steps were the messages of Nemesis, the echoes of revenge. It was different when I was so young, of course. I was frightened to death, but curious as hell, and after some inquiries, I learned that some of these events really had taken place very long before I got to know them.

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0

Towards the Bus Stop

The calming velvet darkness covered her tightly, weaving the net of dreams inside her head. The girl stirred in her bed, shuddered and then unwillingly opened her eyes, “So cold!” First wish was to continue sleeping, never give up that realm of warmth, of acceptance… And whatever else she had never seen in her life. Then she laid still, waiting for her mother to wake up.

Elise laid silently and listened, but caught no motion in the bathroom or the hall. “What the hell is she doing? Perhaps she has already gone, and I just didn’t hear it”. Anyway, she had to wake up finally, so she sat down with a moan of disappointment, waited until the head became clear and the world before her eyes became stable enough to stand up and continue the morning routine. “It’s so dark outside…” The girl was utterly surprised to find neither a sound, nor the slightest movement in their flat and outside. Painful and overwhelming “I’m late!” rang in her head, made her heart run and jump chaotically in her chest. Unknown and unperceived power drew her out of her flat – faster… faster. Faster! “I’m always late!”

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0

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