frozen return

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: October 16, 2016

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Submitted: October 16, 2016

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Frozen return

It was an especially cold day in December and the intense chill had passed into the car, this was a result of the broken heating system that Stan kept promising himself he was going to fix. To compensate, he wore a thick heavy coat but still suffered from the extreme conditions stiffening his fingers. Eyes strained and tired from stress.

As he cautiously pressed down along the forest road, he was amazed how the expanding woodlands had narrowed it. The domain almost mocking him, trees groaned and the sound of what resembled agitated rustling made him feel unwelcome.

Twigs cracked under the pressure of the car wheels which placed fright in him with every snap. If it wasn’t for the piercing cold, beads of sweat would have gathered on his forehead, and held, despite his slight tremble.

Even the wildlife held its breath, seemingly sharing Stan’s fear. Everything stood still. Confined to his car he felt the dry cold air occasionally kiss his dried skin. Frost stiffened the joints of the car, slowing all movement. However, there was one thing that moved freely even in the colds embrace. Projected from above, the shadows painted the surface of the ground, flickering over the cars solid shell. Stan’s anxiety coupling his lingering paranoia may have formed the reason why he felt at mercy to nature.

I suppose it was the armour of the car which slightly helped sooth him. But there were no word known to Stan that could have prepared him for what he was to see next.

It was unusual for Stan to be so nervous; days like this normally passed quickly, however that day was different. The restrictions of his path forced him to slowly approach a number of docile animals cutting of his passage.

As the distance between them closed the beasts scattered. One which stood at the very back, and detached from the rest appeared to look somewhat human.

Something unknown held the wildlife focus, this peaked Stan’s curiosity. A slight glance from the slightest head movement burnt an image into his head and remained as still as his heart. He stared aghast at the crazed glare of this beast, left discarded not much further outside arm’s length. The extremity of its suffering left his vision distort. He moved uneasy in his car seat shuffling around attempting to reach the car lock, shaking hands denying his every attempt. There were no sounds coming from Stan; the only thing heard was a faint snort.

What he saw out of his window, what he saw that bitter night were the marks from what had lacerated its cleaved torso. Limbs left mutilated and dispersed. Causing the most panic, and the most tension within Stan, were dislodged eyes of the beast still suspended by the dark red tendrils which fed back into its battered skull.

Time began to pass rapidly; he had his pale fingers fixed tightly around the steering wheel, and his small dark pupils fixated on the path ahead. He kept his mouth closed in a thin, straight line, lips chapped from the dropping temperature. Stan was always a gentle man not used to such torment.

Eagerly pressing on, fear crawled inside his head and burrowed itself in his subconscious while the cold was eating at the back of his neck and tearing down his spinal cord. If he had been calm, it would have been easy to calculate an alternate route home through his path littered with trees. Looking around they stood utterly still, statues in a living museum left abandoned.

This sharply brought his attention to something in the distance emitting a faint yellow light. Paying no more attention, awareness rushed back to him. He now noticed how the wind carried a sickly stench of what he thought to be wood rot.

Eyes narrowed he spotted a moving figure entering the road. The distance between them closing as it strangely dragged its heavy feet along the path. Even as Stan got closer and closer the figure still appeared as a silhouette, larger than any man he had ever seen. Everything from the abnormal movement to why this person was out here, filled Stans mind with questions he wasn't willing to ask. As he gently eased the break to slow, it disappeared into the thick brush of the forest.

Distracted Stan leaned in attracted to the dark opening of the forest where the thing had entered. One hand on the wheel, he slightly tilted his body to get a closer look.

The thing broke out the brush, the car veering aggressively to the left, Stan over shot the steering, the quick acceleration causing him to collide with the trees ahead.

The last thing he saw in this bizarre setting was the clock just hitting 03:24, the beast gazing down upon Stan with slight admiration. Thoughts of death became paramount among all others,  stemming from the malice that flowed out of its dull black eyes. Its hair matted, blood lined the thick slabs of flesh haphazardly sewn across its face. The beast gently slid his broken nails down Stans forehead slowing near his brow. Less than a moment passed when it drove it rotting thumb into Stan’s eye, the other hand muffling the screams.

...

Stan jolted upright to an abrupt stop noticing chains restricting his movements. Relief of realising it was only a dream faded, quickly,  as he absorbed the consternations of his surroundings.

Within the dark room the flickering light stained red emitted a faint yellow glow, which helped him notice the red manacles fixed around his wrists. With a second glance it became clear that the manacles were not just red but laced with blood, which left a thick smudge on his arms like paste. This caused Stan to yank on chains in a sudden panic.

Scanning the chamber anxiously his movements were stopped by the sight of a clock. The clock read 03:20. He heard the heavy rusted door creek open.


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