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Psychotic Escape

Short story By: Heather Stanley
Horror



I am trying to escape. I'm not sure if this is real. Am I hallucinating, or dreaming? I'm scared. Am I psychotic? Will I get away?


Submitted:May 9, 2013    Reads: 31    Comments: 0    Likes: 0   


Light filtered in, throwing shadows across the hardwood floor. I tiptoed on, searching - always searching. And never knowing what exactly I searched for.
A floorboard creaked. I jumped, nerves shot with fear - or at least something close to it. A laugh escaped my throat, a hysterical sound that frightened me further. My hands trembled, betraying me. I kept them in tight fists at my side.
The corridor stretched on forever in front of me. I guaranteed that if I looked behind me, it would appear the same in either direction.
Deep down in my subconscious I knew this wasn't right - this confusingly warped world laid out in front of me.
This vision was different from the others. . Less of a riddle, more of a psychotic film strip of some dark, abandoned ghoulish house in the middle of an even creepier version of my home town.
Demon shadows seemed to loom before me on the blank white walls of the narrow hall. Ghost images of picture frames flickered amongst them - a memory tossed aside long ago.
This was a torture zone, a dream meant to trap me in its firm grip and never let go. It would keep me suspended in animation - in this gloomy vision of what used to be. The hair on my neck stood on end. Was I doomed to this - this personal hell of mine?
The scratching started far off, at the edge of my unconsciousness.
I didn't notice it until it was a few feet away, like nails on a chalkboard. I shuddered, refusing to look back, imagining little black rats as dark as night. Eyes beady, burning with malice. Teeth sharp and long, protruding from their jaws.
I imagined hundreds of them on the walls and floor, a black sheet of darkness coming towards me, rising from the shadows and getting ready to pounce, scuttling along with sharp squeaks and twitching noses, brought forth from the rise of dust and smell of decay. There was only one logical thing to do, one thing any sane person would do. And though this vision proved I was not sane, I ran.
I was breathless, exhausted from exertion by the time I reached the door that brought me to safety. I threw the door shut behind me and sent the lock home. home.
The scratching faded, and I wondered if possibly it had been only my imagination. Now all I heard was my shallow breathes and the pounding of my heart. And . . . the sudden creak of a floorboard behind me...
I turned to face the new room, blood pounding in my ears. He stood there, tall and looming ten feet in front of me. His clothes were blacker than black, the essence of pure darkness, fading in and out of the shadows. His face was translucent in the pale light streaming in from the window.
I wondered, confused, if he was even there or just a trick of the shadow. His eyes were crimson red like blood, freezing me where I stood. His mouth turned up into a sardonic smirk, reminding me of a demon.
Was it fair to compare him to a demon before I truly met him - heard him speak?
I wasn't sure. Fear struck me, leaving my insides raw and ripping the breath from my lungs. I couldn't comprehend the erratic beating of my heart.
Perhaps I was psychotic. Maybe, just maybe, this was a hallucination. It didn't matter. I couldn't escape this horror horror even if I tried.
A shrill scream filled the silence. Light filtered in, throwing shadows across the hardwood floor. I tiptoed on, searching - always searching. And never knowing what exactly I searched for.
A floorboard creaked. I jumped, nerves shot with fear - or at least something close to it. A laugh escaped my throat, a hysterical sound that frightened me further. My hands trembled, betraying me. I kept them in tight fists at my side.
The corridor stretched on forever in front of me. I guaranteed that if I looked behind me, it would appear the same in either direction.
Deep down in my subconscious I knew this wasn't right - this confusingly warped world laid out in front of me.
This vision was different from the others. . Less of a riddle, more of a psychotic film strip of some dark, abandoned ghoulish house in the middle of an even creepier version of my home town.
Demon shadows seemed to loom before me on the blank white walls of the narrow hall. Ghost images of picture frames flickered amongst them - a memory tossed aside long ago.
This was a torture zone, a dream meant to trap me in its firm grip and never let go. It would keep me suspended in animation - in this gloomy vision of what used to be. The hair on my neck stood on end. Was I doomed to this - this personal hell of mine?
The scratching started far off, at the edge of my unconsciousness.
I didn't notice it until it was a few feet away, like nails on a chalkboard. I shuddered, refusing to look back, imagining little black rats as dark as night. Eyes beady, burning with malice. Teeth sharp and long, protruding from their jaws.
I imagined hundreds of them on the walls and floor, a black sheet of darkness coming towards me, rising from the shadows and getting ready to pounce, scuttling along with sharp squeaks and twitching noses, brought forth from the rise of dust and smell of decay. There was only one logical thing to do, one thing any sane person would do. And though this vision proved I was not sane, I ran.
I was breathless, exhausted from exertion by the time I reached the door that brought me to safety. I threw the door shut behind me and sent the lock home. home.
The scratching faded, and I wondered if possibly it had been only my imagination. Now all I heard was my shallow breathes and the pounding of my heart. And . . . the sudden creak of a floorboard behind me...
I turned to face the new room, blood pounding in my ears. He stood there, tall and looming ten feet in front of me. His clothes were blacker than black, the essence of pure darkness, fading in and out of the shadows. His face was translucent in the pale light streaming in from the window.
I wondered, confused, if he was even there or just a trick of the shadow. His eyes were crimson red like blood, freezing me where I stood. His mouth turned up into a sardonic smirk, reminding me of a demon.
Was it fair to compare him to a demon before I truly met him - heard him speak?
I wasn't sure. Fear struck me, leaving my insides raw and ripping the breath from my lungs. I couldn't comprehend the erratic beating of my heart.
Perhaps I was psychotic. Maybe, just maybe, this was a hallucination. It didn't matter. I couldn't escape this horror horror even if I tried.
A shrill scream filled the silence.




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