Crept

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

Submitted: July 13, 2019

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Submitted: July 13, 2019

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It wasn’t just the musty smell that stung the senses… it was the poisonous taste of mold growing on the particles of oxygen, hydrogen, and carbon dioxide… a mouthful of fright, burning the throat. So maybe it wasn’t the darkness that blinded an intruder’s sight, but the thick cloud of dirt, mold, dust, and anguish that filled the room, to engulf one in illness, surrounded by walls built of deadly air. Eyes swim in a stream of impure water that slithers across the floor, a sludge of nasty, scary thoughts. And eyes sink deep into the blackened walls, watching, knowing, blind, but seeing. The owners of these painful sights feed on the death of light, the aroma of neglect, the invitation of an unwanted room. These are the rooms that scream for their presence to fill what others could not, a haunting scream that could stop hearts and stop time, stop the spin of the earth, in a single wave of chilling terror as it pierces all ears. But to the owners of those ghastly eyes, this entire bloodcurdling horror is merely laughter, simply a smile, a twisted, vindictive, boisterous thought. You could ask them why they do what they do, why they are what they are. But then again… you would never find them to ask. 

Scene 1
Each breath hugged her neck with an eerie warmth. The inhalation was sharp and triggered the unmistakable death rattle, the crackle of death at work. She was paralyzed; her eyelids seemed to have glued themselves shut, her tongue must have jumped down her throat. And that breathing… how she shuddered at the disturbance to her ears. She did not want to see who had wrapped their arms around her waist, the clammy bones of a hand stroking her bare skin. They began to squeeze her… tighter… and tighter… and her face grew redder and redder as her body grew paler and paler. Her head was pounding. Blood dribbled out of her nose to catch up with the blood spewing from her mouth. She wanted to cry, but no tears came out. Instead, her eyeballs popped out of her head, rolled off the bed, and took a bounce on the floor. They left behind two gaping holes, the entrances to her red crusted brain. Blood spurted from the holes creating waterfalls of known death down her cheeks.


Elocine woke up, turning her body to face the wall. She gently brushed her fingers across the moisture that had accumulated upon the crying window. And the window allowed the wind to scream. That dream seems more real every time I dream it, she thought. But a worried expression replaced her thankfulness of life. Something wasn’t right. A low moan trudged along the window sill. Though the window shrugged that cold sigh aside, Elocine could not do the same. How could she just dismiss this gush of intrusion that played with her hair and bit at her skin? She sat herself up just enough to reach out and shut the crying window and a heavy sensation fell upon her; her body shivered as if the window had invited back the wind. She didn’t feel as if she was the only one in the room. But they had never felt so close to her before. She knew they were watching… always watching… but not like this, never like this. She could feel her heart beating faster, faster, pounding… the eyes seemed to be on her… her heart drumming with fear… faster, faster, slowing, stopping, not beating. 

Elocine’s eyes were wide open now, no longer burdened by her dreams. “What did I do to deserve this? What’s wrong with me!? I don’t know why they are so angry! I can’t remember! I can’t remember!” she whispered frantically between her sudden sobs, the brief gasps for air. Elocine drew her blanket closer so its softness was snug against her trembling body. Why is the blanket so damp? The question bounced around her mind. She discovered a warm liquid as she slid her hand under the blanket and felt the puddle in her bed. Did I wet myself when I was dreaming?  She was confused, and it was too dark to know for sure. As she slowly lifted her body and quietly dropped her feet to the floor, she realized that her body was covered in this liquid from head to toe. She could taste it on her lips. She felt it sliding provocatively down her chest, her stomach, her legs, down to the insignificant floor. Within a split second she was by the door and flicked on the light. To her horror, but to someone else’s pleasure, fresh blood stained the floor, stained the bed, stained her. A chilling laughter filled her ears, not the room, just her ears. It was not her blood. She stood horrified at the reality, wishing it were simply a dream, dropping now to the newly significant floor to hold her in her helplessness. 

Scene 2
Four shadows line the hallway. She watches them. She watches them until they have all walked away. They smiled at her. But she didn’t think they were very nice, startling her on such a bright afternoon. With each step she made down the hall, crimson foot prints followed her close, fading until they blended with the floor, an invisible mark of a dreary memory. Maybe Elocine was imagining everything. Maybe there were no shadows… Maybe there was no afternoon. She tried to make sense of this, but couldn’t. She even tried to make sense of her quivering breath, but knew she shouldn’t.
With sudden surprise the hallway became a dark tunnel, beaming with light at its end, unable to be reached. She watched her body travel at a steady pace in front of her, in no hurry to reach the end. Why am I watching myself walk if I am here following close to the wall? Why can’t I control what I do? Lift an arm? Move a leg? Her eyes darted around in frantic search for an answer. Her body stopped. Her body spun to face her. “Stop following me!” her body screamed, “Leave me alone!” But Elocine couldn’t grant her own wishes. She stared perplexed at the person standing before her, noticing the blood of her nightmares glistened with menace where the light struck her body. So her body turned running, dragging her along. 
The light went out. She couldn’t see a thing, couldn’t hear anything but her thoughts echoing through the darkness. A sharp pain stabbed throughout her body. She must be back in herself. Elocine tried to take a step forward, but her toes were jammed into the floor, and she fell flat on her face. Large wooden splinters pierced her skin, blood creating a river beneath her. She was suffocating. The splinters held still while the river was sure to stop her breath. And something sucked her deeper into the floor, allowing the splinters to rip right through her. She landed with a sudden thud in an unknown place. She could feel the eyes on her.
 Drip. Drop. Drip. Drop. 
She quickly rubbed her hands all over her body. There was nothing. She was okay. 
Drip. Drop. Drip. Drop. 
Elocine wanted to know what was making the sound. 
Drip. Drop. Drip. Drop. 
But she could not move. Elocine could feel something gathering around her feet. It was cold. And it was slimy. Elocine could hear the drops splattering near, sending ripples through the liquid to slosh against her ankles. Somewhere in the room light became present so she strained her neck to look. Light squeezed its way through cracks in the wall, creating an outline of a door. A hoarse whisper shot through one ear and out the other. It beckoned her closer. “But I can’t move!” she whimpered. It chuckled in response and then disappeared. Elocine tried to get her feet to move, but they seemed to be revolting against her. “Just let me go!” she yelled as the slime began to crawl up her legs. “I just wanted to live a normal life in a new house! Start fresh! What did I do!?” Instantly her feet gave in and allowed her to the door of light. As she twisted the knob, her eyes lost their sight, and she fell to her knees as if giving up.

Meanwhile, there was someone knocking on the front door.
“Come on El! Open up! It’s Monday! Boss is going to want to know why you didn’t make it to work!” He banged with his fist one more time before resting his head on the door. “I know things have been tough,” he began gently, fucking bitch, “The move… losing your family… stress at work… and us… I’m sorry for our fight. I should be more supportive of you at a time like this…” He waited patiently, while losing patience, watching the sun dip below the earth. The sky was painted with brilliant colors, embracing the short moments it had left of daylight. “I love you, you know.” The silence of the house killed him inside, she hadn't heard the lie, had she? He hadn’t heard from Elocine since Friday at work. They had parted ways with anger written across their faces. He needed the goddamn paperwork to finish the deal their boss was on his ass for. No, he couldn't give up on reaching her. So, he tried the door knob. It was unlocked. Of course it was.
The door swung open, its force whacking Elocine hard in the face. She dizzily lifted herself, grabbing the door for support, to peer around the room. The dark unknown faded to resemble her living room, a familiar place. 
“I was so worried about you, Elocine. Is your head okay?” He ran his fingers through her soft brunette hair before tucking it behind her ears. Somehow he missed the specks of dried blood that comfortably made themselves at home on each strand of hair. He held her face in the palm of his hands, taking no notice of the faint but distinct smudges of blood and unidentifiable grime that dressed up her face like makeup. Elocine saw what she hoped was love in his eyes. She was choking on tears. “Yea,” she managed to say before completely collapsing into the safety of his hug. A shadow tiptoed into her peripheral vision. She closed her eyes and tightened her arms around him.
“What’s wrong?”
She couldn’t answer him.
“Babe look at me, I want to help.”
She couldn’t will herself to open her eyes. He could feel her body begin to tremble and brought her over to the couch. He wrapped her up with an afghan and cuddled her close. He didn’t know what to say. And neither did she. Slowly the lids of her eyes began to open, revealing a darker world. The sun of the day had set. She looked into the eyes of her lover who returned the stare with aching curiosity. 
“Charles…” she struggled for words. “I don’t know what is going on. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I…” She stopped. He won’t understand, she thought wearily and dropped her head. Charles lifted her chin.
“I may not understand, but I know that talking about our problems helps a great deal. I promise.” He kissed her forehead. Mother of God, this bitch is losing it. I'm way too tired for this shit.
“Lately,” she continued, “the strangest things have been happening to me. I’ve seen the scariest things Charles… dreamt the most disturbing dreams…” The remembrance of events made her shudder. “Well like they say,” he interrupted, “Sometimes our dreams are the work of our subconscious, displaying certain things to reflect how we are feeling deep down inside.” He smiled to himself, sure of his obvious intellect.
“Yea… maybe.” Elocine had no energy for arguing. She knew this was different and she knew she would have to face it alone. Crickets started their symphony of noise, a lullaby of the silent night. Elocine peered out the window at the glowing lamp post. She could make out two little birds perched on the dancing branch of a tree. She walked to the window to get a closer look. Blue jays. She sat back down to lay her head on Charles’ shoulder. I wish I were a blue jay… I could be carefree, do what I want, and then mend brokenness with a song from my heart. Charles was either asleep or resting; she couldn’t tell. She did notice, however, his breathing was slow and perfect… his chest rising and falling… his heart beating and beating. The last thing Elocine remembered, as she drifted off to sleep, were four shadows dancing in the door way like the branch from the cool evening breeze. They smiled a sinister smile before dissolving into the past. 


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