Wooden Blocks

Reads: 402  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 1

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Reddit
  • Pinterest
  • Invite

More Details
Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
This short story is based on the works of Edgar Allan Poe. I hope to have captured the essence of his style, while keeping the story rather ambiguous. Enjoy!

Submitted: December 13, 2014

A A A | A A A

Submitted: December 13, 2014

A A A

A A A


I wandered the dark, damp woods, unsure why I was there. The shadows danced along the trees, and the unease began to grow. I couldn’t remember anything, why was I even out in the middle of some woods so late at night? Even the moon gave no comfort, cold and distant in the sky. I cursed it for following me, but not answering my questions. I wandered through the copse hoping I was making my way out. I thought I heard some branches rustling in the dark, but saw nothing in the direction. I felt I was getting more and more lost, where was I? As I stumbled through the dark, the trees seemed to mock me. I tripped over a tight knit of brambles, and haplessly fell into a dirt path. Though I was scraped and bruised, I was elated to find some semblance of civilization. I looked both ways of the path, but couldn’t see any way of determining which way was to salvation. I decided to turn my back to the moon; it had been of little help so far. It seemed this path had been little used as the weeds chocked the path. I showered the area in the light of my flashlight, but nothing seemed to stand out. Where are the signs? I kept on, not knowing why. I felt that stopping was not an option. I continued down this dark and ruinous road, hoping for something to be awaiting me at the end.

A silhouette finally graced my vision, resembling a house. I quickened my pace, hope giving me speed. A house meant people, a house meant shelter from this unyielding darkness. It taunted me in the distance, seemingly getting more distant as I ran toward it. Finally my feet lead me to the house proper, and my heart sank. This dilapidated corpse was no haven.  The once proud structure hunkered over weeds, listing to the east as if wishing to rest. The porch amazingly still stood, though it seemed only by a miracle. The front door was gone, a rusty tricycle guarding the warped portal. Still, though this place was a ruin, it still was shelter for this night. In the morn, by the graceful light of day, I could leave and find people. The floor boards creaked as I entered the gloom of the long abandoned house. The smell of mildew and dust filled my nostrils, and I sneezed. The dust cloud swirled away into the blackness beyond my flashlight. Why am I in here, why? I racked my brain for the answer, but couldn’t remember. I scanned the room; ages of neglect hid the small homely warmth of personal objects, the reasons for which were long lost in the dust.

I spied a staircase, heading upward, further into this cold forgotten crypt of memories. The stairs groaned in protest to my weight, their age causing them to become as brittle as dry bones. The upstairs hall had once been a delightfully painted space, now its cheery color is faded and chipped. The whole place, once having been full of life and light, now seemed lonely and desperate. The rooms didn’t reduce the dreary atmosphere. Bedrooms and bathrooms long unused and falling into decay. Why am I here? As I glimpsed the rooms, I made my way almost instinctively to the last door on the right. It had been a nursery, a place for new life and new beginnings. The faded toys and torn baby blankets screamed out at me, crying there loss. I felt sweaty and gross as I looked over the room. A quick flash of lightning outside gained my attention, and the thunder held it. As the rain began to fall, I barely heard the creak of the hallway door. I chocked it up to wind or the imagination as I glanced over the little wooden blocks on the floor. How innocent, a few wooden toy blocks made for tiny hands. As I turned my full attention on the blocks, I saw the spelled out a few words. ‘Why are you here?’ they spelled. I glanced at the seemingly omnipotent blocks, as the cold wet rag wrapped around my throat from behind. As my vision blurred with the loss of breath, I found the answer, to die.


© Copyright 2020 dark misery. All rights reserved.

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Reddit
  • Pinterest
  • Invite

Add Your Comments:

Comments

avatar

Author
Reply