The Supernatural

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
A short yet pretty mysterious story that will leave you curious about what reality actually is.


My First Publish.

Submitted: February 03, 2012

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Submitted: February 03, 2012

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He could swear he saw something move behind the thick cover of trees, his friends paid no heed to his whining as they thought he had too much alcohol in his blood, they all did. But there was something Mathew had not told them, that he had been having these bizarre experiences for the past week. Footsteps following him on a dark road, shadows dancing when he was not paying attention, lights flickering all of a sudden, but the weirdest of all, a man in a long cloak, just staring at him with his dead, almost yellow eyes. Of course he couldn’t tell this to anyone, they would think he has lost it, hell, he himself thought he was raving mad.

But tonight in the middle of the forest, their usual drinking spot, he felt something. Something that made him shiver. And the worst part of it all was that he could not blame the rum for it, because he had drunk not a drop. He told his friends he had to take a leak and went to the area where he had seen the branches moving. He was going to end it today; He needed to be sure that he was fucked in the head before he went to get help.

Little did he know, that was he was about to uncover was so disturbing, so un-earthly, that he would wish it was just his mind playing tricks.

What he saw when he neared the trees intrigued him, there in the middle of the clearing, was something that seemed like, well to put it plainly- Dead. Not a stand of grass nor the burrow of an animal, nothing living was on this nearly perfect circular piece of land.  But there was something even more peculiar about this land, wooden staff buried, buried dead center of the circle. As he neared the pole, he saw scribbling, markings of some sort, maybe in another language. Getting as close to the almost menacing looking thing as he dared, he tried to see if he could decipher anything from the writing, and what he read almost made him stumble back in pure fear. His name. In the middle of a sentence. His name.

 

Before he could even begin to process why his name would be inscribed on a staff in the middle if a god forsaken piece of land, the man who had been haunting his every waking moment was standing at the edge of the circle, staring, and strangely enough, smirking.

The air around him was cold, freezing winds blowing past his face, and an icy sensation on his wrists. There were vines, growing so rapidly that it seemed as if years were flying by, and these vines were grabbing him, pulling him down, drowning out his cries, sucking the life out of him.

 

Just as his friends were beginning to wonder if Mathew had lost his way, they saw him coming out of the clearing, beaming. But there was something certainly different about him, even if his intoxicated friends couldn’t spot it. Because what stepped out of that clearing was Mathews body for sure, but his mind was taken over by a far ancient being, a being, who now had a new body to use.


© Copyright 2020 Angad Oberoi. All rights reserved.

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