Will I Ever Get Peace

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Flash Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
Short story kinda thing for B Uniques Flash Fiction contest.

Submitted: July 10, 2013

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Submitted: July 10, 2013

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Insert one:

I have been in this house for just about a week and I already want to leave it. I can just feel something isn’t right here. When I’m in the shower I can feel that I’m being watched. When I get into bed I feel like someone is standing over me. While I’m cooking and eating, I feel as though someone is sharing my space. I don’t know how to explain it, but I have searched for cameras and all that sort of creepy weirdo stuff, but it is something different.

 

Insert two:

Following on from the other day, my electrics seem a bit dodgy because lights are turning off by them self. I called the guy out and he couldn’t explain it over the phone. He called me crazy before he hung up. Maybe I am crazy.

 

Insert three:

I went to sleep last night on the sofa and I have just woken up in my bed all tucked in and my clothes have been changed. I don’t know what to do. Who do I talk to about this? My dad would just get me sectioned rather than help. I hate living here.

 

Insert four:

It has been a while since I have written in here. I have no memory of the last few weeks at all. It’s weird because the last thing I remember was my last entry into this journal, but that was exactly eighteen days ago. Have I been in a coma or something or has something actually happened to my mind now. I think I could actually be losing the plot. That would be a relief compared to Ghosts. Maybe I should go to the doctors soon; although come to think of it, I haven’t even left this house since I moved in.

 

Insert five:

I tried to leave today and I couldn’t open any doors or windows. They are all stuck. Now I am convinced that I am not alone in this house and whatever is in here with me, doesn’t want me to escape its grasp. I try to call someone but the phone doesn’t seem to work at all. I can’t even lift the phone from its station.

 

Insert six:

I have been in the basement for three days and I’m not sure how to get out. I don’t even know how I got here and it is ridiculously dark down here. I keep hearing weird noises coming from upstairs. They sound like footsteps. It was at this point that I see the a crack of light from the door opening and I hear shoes hitting the wooden steps one by one. I notice a bottle of wine from the corner being picked up and making its way back to the staircase but there is no carrier from what I can see. I begin to panic as I think I have been banished to the basement in my own home. The ghosts are having a celebration of their victory and I’m stuck down here. That’s it, I’m taking action.

 

I storm toward the door not caring what I’m knocking over in my path. I stomp my way up the steps and hear gasps from the room above. I crash through the door expecting to see floating glasses and bottles; trays of food making their way around the room without a host to carry them. I walk further into the room to throw a glass on the floor and it breaks into hundreds of shards. I hear screaming and a lot of it too. I start to panic as I have upset a whole party of ghosts. I run to hide in a corner only to smash my foot through a glass coffee table that I have never seen before. It is at this point that I realise that I have never seen this room before. I look in the mirror and there is nothing there other than the reflection of 20 or so terrified people huddling in the background.

 

It is at this point that I feel a pain in my stomach, and I look down to see a patch of red and a trickling of blood. I notice a blade on the floor by my feet, and I feel dizzy. Have I been dying this whole time? Why would afterlife be so cruel as to scare me into oblivion, when I am already dead? What possible need is there for that sort of punishment? It is now that I look around once more to see picture of my former self. I have come to haunt my own wake haven’t I? How can this be? I gesture to my friends and family to say I’m sorry, but of course they cannot hear me. Instead, I spell out with the shards of glass ‘Fear not, I’ll always be with you’. It was at this point my grandma collapsed.  


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