Scrap Metal

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
A story about a suspicious and unnatural night from the point of view of the witness.

Submitted: August 03, 2017

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Submitted: August 03, 2017



It's getting late.

The street-lights are already on, even though only one of them is visible from my window.

The night-wind is blowing, making my window rattle.

Another boring night.

I'm getting tired of this monotone sound. And it's annoying me quite a bit.

I need something... new.

The wind got stronger for a brief moment. I thought it would break the window.

What's that sound? On the pavement...

It sounds like... cans?

I get closer to the window and take a look outside.

There's a human-like figure walking on the street.


It's more like he's dragging his legs. Is he that tired?

He's leaning forward... too much. How can his back even withstand so much leaning...

His arms, dropped down, are hanging... as if they aren't real. His long fingers, almost touching the ground.

His hair, as dark as the night, is covering his face.

His clothes... What clothes? It seems as if he's wearing rags.

Oh. I almost forgot. That sound.

I clench my eyes, as I am surprised.

In the back of his belt... there's a tied thin rope... stretching about twice the man's height.

What are those things tied at the rope?

I can't tell...

They aren't cans. They are just... scrap metal.

I don't understand. Why does he have... tied scrap metal?

That metal sound... is scratching the ground as he moves. The sound is getting deeper and stronger. The scrap metal sounds much heavier than it looks. It sounds like he's dragging chains.

But they're just scrap metal.


He barely moved from the position I first saw him in. He is walking. The distance should be bigger... but it seems like he barely moved.

It's as if... he's playing with space and time.

The wind attacked my window once again.

It startled me.

I decide to look away for a while, to let my gaze rest a bit inside the room.

My bedroom's door is white.

There appears to be a little spider in the corner of the ceiling.

My bin is full. I should probably empty it when I wake up.

I keep looking around for a bit.

I grab my phone and check the time. The digital clock shows "00:49".

I just noticed. The sound of the scrap metal is still there.


I looked out the window.

The man... is at the start again...

Did he turn back and now he's walking the same path?

I don't know. I don't...

He looks different.

His hair is... longer.

His long fingers are now touching the ground. It's like they're carving lines on the pavement.

Even the rope with the scrap metal... It's longer... and the scrap metal seems to have multiplied.

What is going on? What the heck is going on?!

Oh. There is an easy explanation. I know.

I am... going crazy.

The mysterious figure stopped. The metal sound... stopped.

His neck twisted, in a matter of seconds, in the most ugly and unnatural way possible, and he stared at me.

The long dark hair... spilled on his face... through his open toothless mouth... through the holes he had instead of eyes...

My eyes... are closing.

I am... fading... in... the darkness.

I fell asleep.

I later wake up in my bed. It's morning.

What happened? I was at the window.

My head hurts. I vaguely remember anything from last night.

Images just randomly flash in front of my eyes.

Was it... just a drea-... nightmare?

I get up, unbalanced, as if I'm drunk... and I approach the window.

One quick look outside. My eyes, automatically pin-pointed at the pavement.

There is no man.

The only thing left... is just a bunch of scrap metal, spread in a trail-like way, on that pavement.

Maybe... it wasn't just a nightmare, after all.

© Copyright 2018 E. Cyrus. All rights reserved.

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