A Coffin With no Velvet

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

Submitted: August 02, 2013

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Submitted: August 02, 2013

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“Hello, ma’am. Nice to meet you.” I say as I shake Mrs. Valentine’s hand. “I promise I’ll keep Semara safe and make sure she has a good time!” Mrs. Valentine was definitely sure I’m the best babysitter out there for her child she claims as “different”. “You understand about her--- Her… uhh… Her imaginary friends…?” Mrs. Valentine questionably states. “She truly believes that each and every one of them are real, and trust me, she WILL drag you into her fantasy…” The expression upon her face seemed almost as if I should fear this child’s dreams. Should I?

“Trust me, we’ll be just fine. Now go, have a good night out!” I spill slowly closing the tall and fancy glass door.

A grin casts upon my lips; I turn to greet this little girl that I am oh so excited to meet. But my journey doesn’t last long as she was already behind me. My heartbeat breaks momentarily and a take a hesitating step backwards. “Why hello, Semara!” I chant. “How lovely to meet you! We’re going to have so much fun tonight! Where do you want to begin, sweety?” But she stands motionless, almost paralyzed. A worn out stuffed bear clenched gently between her fingers. “Are you okay, Semara?” I exclaim, slowly kneeling to her level. The blank stare of the young child continue. Her long black hair stringing forward to slightly drape her face, black sweat pants, and a baggy black shirt.

“They’re mad at me….” Semara manages to squeeze out her beguiled lips. But suddenly the child of silence become loud with a cry—almost of pain; “I DON’T WANT TO PLAY ON THE SWING SET. I’M SORRY I DON’T WANT TO SWING ON THE SWING SET.”

I grabbed her arms in a panicky tremble; “Semara what’s wrong!? What are you talking about!?”

“No! NO! I don’t want to play!”

“Semara, tell me what’s going on!”

She slowly twists and points to the glass wall in the living room. “Semara, I don’t see anything over there… Tell me what’s going on please…” But the yard lights immediately shine when my words halted. A clown drowned in colour and laughter sits goofily on the swing as it slices the air… Back and forth, back and forth…

“Oh my gosh!” I wrap my arms around the child in protection. I guide the stumbling girl to another room as she repeats sternly that she does not want to play. What little breath left in my lungs I exhale in the most frightful cried words to cry to the police the scenario.

“Semara, play with me! Semara, play with me! Semara, play with me!” shrieks another child’s voice from behind. Our heads spin to unveil the stark horror of a grown up doll with broken limbs lying on the bloody tile. “Semara, play with me! Semara, play with me! Semara, play with me!” Her voice becomes louder, and more demonic. Along with the cries the puddle of blood becomes streams traveling down the creases in the floor. “Semara, play with me! Semara…. I said… PLAY WITH ME!” The room quakes and the blood begins to fall in reverse. As if gravity flipped, the blood was splattering on the ceiling.

 I scream, scream louder than you’ve ever heard, and cried more tears than you’ve ever cried.  With pure fear tearing through my veins, destroying every ounce of glee left in me, I run for any type of room. With Semara’s hand in mine we hide in a closet. Not alarmed by the utter black of the room we get as far back as we can. “I don’t want to play tonight!” Semara screeches. But I quickly cover the betraying mouth sure to give way our only hope of life. I then cover my own to block out the sheer terror in the mumbles my soul weeps. The walls begin to quiver at random and the thought of “oh no it’s happening again” comes to mind.

And the case of our hiding commences to close. To squeeze and trap. Nothing but squeeze and trap. Our bodies thoughtlessly tremor out the door to lead my being in a spinning fall onto solid dirt. Semara peeks happily at the top—Surrounded by her not-so-imaginary friends. A clown, dolls, Pumpkin head, demons, and nameless creatures of nightmares. The doll cracks her broken pieces to stare directly at my eyes. I attempt to see clearer but the tears on my cheek leave a trace and gift of sight no longer is too keen. “Nobody refuses play time, Kitty.” The doll spits. “Nobody.” Interlopes the clown.

Dirt starts to cave into my newly found grave. I helplessly lie there as I soon become buried alive. “Leave Semara alone!” I shout in sorrow of death.  But she cracks her neck and I realize her eyes have become white along with her clothing. She tosses the now white teddy bear into my burial. The bear decays quickly and initiates rapid growth of black roses. The dirt raises more and I’m completely covered.

The few seconds I have left alive I thought I would be able to see all I accomplished. Die on a note of positivity and not a void of hollow regret. Death was a thing I never feared. But now I see that there’s nothing to chill your spine than the fact your existence ends in seconds; especially when your tragic decease follows a vain pathway. I guess you can’t determine a confidence against something you never attempted…

But now I lie six feet below in my coffin I planned not. The walls lack the velvet I once prayed to obtain. My heart beats slower every second. And eventually… it doesn’t.


© Copyright 2020 BottleTheUniverse. All rights reserved.

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