Impostor

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

Submitted: February 26, 2018

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Submitted: February 26, 2018

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I slowly opened my eyes, taking in my surrounding. A wisp of fog slithered at my feet, snakes embracing my presence. It was pitch black, giving me no view of anything but the slanted cross and cracked headstones, illuminated by the bright full moon.  I quietly looked around and to my horror, found no exit from this Place of the Dead. Fortunately, I caught a glimpse of a building. I started my way towards the mysterious building, my eyes focused on the gravelly road as I tried to avoid stepping onto the grave. Creak! Screech! My head snapped up, loosening my shoulder-length ponytail. Eyes widening in horror, I absorbed the scene in front of me. The church had teleported within one hundred metres towards me. As my scrawny leg took me closer, the arch wooden door opened its arms wide, inviting me in.

Toddling towards what looked like the Altar, the eerie atmosphere was tinctured with the scent of incense and candles filled my nostrils. The moonlight had gone through the tinted roof above the Altar and cast red, green and yellow transparent light across the white satin covering the wooden table. In the middle of the table, there was a crucifix and a mouldy bible. I clutched the crucifix tightly against my chest as I closed my eyes and muttered a prayer from the bible. I sensed someone observing me, thus my eyes immediately flew open and darted towards the door. A dark figure was standing in the doorway, as still as a corpse, its eyes observing me like a predator observing its prey.

“Come,” the man instructed, his voice throaty.

“Who are you?” I asked, my voice trembling with fear.

“Come and you shall find the answer.”

With that statement, he left, leaving me confused. I thought about all of the possibilities that could happen; from getting myself killed to being able to go home and shower in kisses and hugs. Overcome by hopes for the latter, I sprinted towards the direction the man left in, grasping the crucifix that I placed around my neck earlier.

Scanning my surroundings, I saw him between the dense trees in the ink black forest. He was within 3 metres in front of me. The moonlight shone on his narrow emerald eyes as it met my round hazel eyes for an instant. As quick as lightning, he slipped deeper into the dark, damp night forest; a droplet of water released into the sea.

“Wait!” My voice echoed in the silent night. Running into the forest, in no direction, my feet took me wherever they went, until suddenly, I entered a vast, empty clearing. The silver glow of the moon projected enough light to give a full view of hectares of the abandoned glade. I hastily looked around and found a single piece of headstone erect in the midst of the short, dry grass a few metres away from me. The moonlight reflected on the writing on the headstone, sending chills down my spine.

“Go to it,” a voice suddenly whispered from behind me. I quickly turned around to find no one but the trees behind me, its branches looking like limp skeletons. I slowly breathe in and out as I turned around to face the headstone once more. I cautiously tip-toed towards the headstone, scared of making any sound that could gain attention. As I got closer, my breath grew rapid, my heartbeat increased and I felt dizzy. I wiped beads of cold sweats on my plain t-shirt’s sleeve. When I managed to calm down a little, I read the writing on the tombstone.

In Loving Memory of,

Claire Simons

Jun. 27, 2004 – Feb. 22, 2018

May her soul rest in peace

As the last word rolled off my tongue, I fell on my knees, paralysed by the headstone in front of me. I was supposed to be dead today. The fear of dying was stabbing my mind, thoughts and hope. Then suddenly, a thought occurred to me.

Am I dead?

Honk! Honk! Honk! I could hear vehicles arguing with each other in the distance. Maybe I’m still alive. I clung on my desperate hope like parasite clinging on its host. I recomposed myself and stood up, ready to face this horrendous nightmare. I went back in the direction I came from, determined to find my way home. As I walked, I wondered if my family realised I’m gone and notified the police. My train of thoughts was interrupted when I saw the very familiar building of the church. I swiftly ran into the church, to find a fairly young lady praying. I waited patiently for her to finish, then I politely asked if she could take me to where I live. Apparently, she knew my neighbourhood and decided to help me. I was beyond ecstatic.

“Let’s go,  Darling,” she said, a smile plastered on her face. I hopped in her car and she drove me back to my house. I was relieved to finally be able to escape that nightmare and be back home. I quickly thanked her for her help and ran up my porch. I rang the doorbell twice, eager to see my parents. My mum opened the door.

“Honey, why are you outside?” Mum asked, her facial expression filled with worry.

“What do you mean Mum?” I asked, my voice showed confusion.

“I was talking to you just a minute ago, right before I opened the door. You said you wanted to go to your room and sleep.” I panicked, dreading to experience another real-life nightmare.

Who was in my house the whole time I was gone?


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