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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
John is trapped by mental illness when something sinister enters his life.

Submitted: September 24, 2012

A A A | A A A

Submitted: September 24, 2012




“ I sleep with my door locked now. ” He said, sitting down into the leather sofa.

He cast his eyes over his living room as he sank into the worn dark brown leather, he looked at the dust and debris of daily life atop the mock medieval table against the other wall. Seeing it he instantly regretted his laziness but since he had been diagnosed with agoraphobia he had found cleaning a waste of time. He no-longer lavished attention on the house, it seemed a tomb to him every wasted second within its walls sucked the life from his bones. He hated being here but couldn't bring himself to leave.


Dr Jessica Stone watched him fall onto the sofa as though the world bore down on him. They had been meeting like this for months. The first session he had sat in silence, now when she saw him he didn't hesitate. It was obvious he had warmed to her

“and how long has it been since you saw it?” She said, as she brushed a band of red hair out of her face and repositioned her glasses. “A couple of months ” he replied, looking uncomfortable he had started clasping his arm about the wrist. The question had made him

uneasy, he hated talking about it as though the thought gave it licence or invoked it. He stared at the red outlines of his fingers on his flesh and then looked up “ tell me Doctor, if you saw death how would you react? ” She sat calmly and considered her response in the way only a psychologist could “ we both know you were half asleep when you saw it. ”

“I know what I saw, I was wide awake” he spat.


Dr Stone flinched from the sudden outburst of anger and changed tack“ I think you believe you saw something, but it's possible that with your insomnia and depression your mind could have created a shape. Remember we talked about it last time? She checked her watch and then looked at him with her kind jade eyes and said “ time's up”

“ I only sat down a moment ago!”

“ Don't pace around so much next time then ” she said smiling.

“Same time next week? ” he asked half hoping she would stay. He hopelessly watched her walk to the door “I'll ring you in a day or so, see how you're doing. ” she answered. opening the living room door and closing it gently behind her. “Good bye Doctor” he called after her . He listened for the clatter of the front door. He hated these home visits. They were always brief. It had been two years, two long years. The incessant boredom of being house bound that made him seek help.


Dr Stone turned the ignition key of her metallic blue Audi, from the upstairs window impassive eyes watched her. The car hummed to life she pulled off the drive way and onto the dirt lane leading to the large house. Changing leaves fell in the wind, sunlight forced its way through the gaps they left in the canopy. Her thoughts drifted from her profession to her private life, her engagement and wedding plans, she thought about her dress, the cake and where the guests would sit. How her brother refused to sit next to her brother in law all the things she had over spent on. Her mobile phone snapped her back to reality, she lifted it from the seat pushed the call activation key with her thumb and held it to her ear.

“Dr Stone” she said in her practised friendly tone. The person on the other end of the line didn't speak. Dr stone spoke into the void “hello?” this time the void spoke back in a digitised hiss. Bad line she thought hanging up and dropping the phone onto the passenger seat. The moment it hit the seat it rang again. She grabbed it and held it to her ear “Dr Stone speaking” again no one spoke on the other end of the line. She pulled into a lay by and checked her call log it wasn't uncommon for her patients to phone her and hang up. Three weeks ago one of them had attempted to end her life but in her last moments discovered she wanted help instead of a razor blade. She eyed the display, two calls from John. She started to worry, he hated using the telephone so it must have been urgent. She had only left him about ten minutes ago. What could have happened in such a short time?.


Her fingers moved rapidly over the keys she put the phone to her ear as she pushed the last key.


“John its Dr Stone you called me, what's wrong?”

Dr? he questioned. “ I haven't phoned anyone, you know I hate talking on the phone”

“someone from your house called me”

“can't be, I'm the only one here and I never use the phone”

she exhaled then spoke “ okay John, I’ll call you tomorrow and arrange your next appointment ”

puzzled he said “okay, talk then” and thought how much of an idiotic thing to say it was.

“bye John” she said hanging up. She pulled out the lay by and continued on with her day.


He put the phone down, stood and stared into the living room mirror at the over weight twenty-something starring back at him. He flicked through the DVD player like menu he used to organise his memories, selected one from his catalogue and played it. Seven years old sitting alone in a large dinning hall. He can hear the other children playing outside as he pushes a Heinz baked bean through tomato sauce watching the trail it leaves behind on the plate. He wonders why he can't seem to make friends. He starts to cry as Dinner ladies clean and wipe the tables around him; no one speaks.


He could never understand why he tormented himself with the what ifs of his life. He pushed aside his negative reminiscing, glared at his reflection one last time and left the room. He trudged up the staircase and to his bedroom. Its pale green walls were lined with shelves packed with the impassive eyes of action figures and statues of video game heroes he had spent the last three years of his life collecting. A desk sat below the window covered in discarded drawings of women, monsters and all manner of demons. He had always been drawn inextricably to the darker side of life but didn't consider himself spiritual in any way. He turned on the P.C listened to the churning of the internal fan blades, turned the monitor on and watched it flash to life. He spent the next hour emailing people half the world away. One person he was particularly fond of was a truly talented artist and a kind hearted woman. They had meet playing Red Dead Redemption and for his part had become fast friends. He checked the message she had left him she wrote of her daily life and how happy she was with her loving boyfriend. For a moment he was glad she had someone then despair swallowed him. He deleted the message and started searching the internet for information on the supernatural.


Boredom set in and he allowed a different memory to creep into his head. He is eleven years old, alone again, today is his birthday. He sits on a double bed From Downstairs he hears his mother berate his siblings for forgetting. He stretches out across the bed and listens to the argument. He stayed with the memory and followed it to its conclusion. It seemed so strange to him how he could flow from one set place and time to another but he had always had a mind like that. In his vast lonely childhood he spent his time asking questions of the trees and animals. At one point he had even followed a cat to see what it did. In his youth the natural world had fascinated him but now the thought of stepping out the front door made him feel ill and visibly quake.


He reads over other peoples experiences with the paranormal and stories of demon attacks. He read over the pages on Drudes, Incubi and Succubi he dismissed the others and read about the German witch of folklore said to feed on fear. He found himself unintentionally lapse into that memory, playing it over in his mind, recalling every detail, every feeling, every terrifying second of it. Woken on the sofa from a sound sleep with a feeling of overwhelming anxiety, lying there in the dark silence of the room for what seemed like an eternity. His eyes were drawn into the next room to a black hunched figure over by the kitchen counter. The mass, this alien shape, periodically illuminated by the blinking light of the unset oven timer, doesn't approach him; it merely watches. He remembers being transfixed by the figure. How its eyes, its hideous empty skull faced eyes burrowed into him with contempt and condemnation. They screamed trespasser.


He shook the memory, he hated thinking of it, knowing it was still somewhere in the house with him. How could he forget, the banging in the walls had started shortly after he had seen the horror in his kitchen.


Dr Stone pulled into her drive way and admired her recently purchased Edwardian semi detached house. The intricate brick work and bay windows were what had attracted her to the house in the first place. She gathered her possessions and idly pushed them into her large brown handbag in the same way she always did when she came home from her morning appointments. She pushed the car door open, stepped out and closed it with her bum. Her black high heeled shoes tapped against the tarmac drive as she walked towards the front door. She ruffled through her handbag for her door keys, she found them and pushed the key inside the lock, to her surprise the door was already open. “Paul” she called out entering the long hallway. She slipped off her heels and stretched her toes out on the polished wooden floor before she looked up the staircase and called out to Paul again.

Jess?, Came a distant strong male voice.

“Yeah it's me” she answered

“Can you come in here please”

“you know you left the bloody door op...” she stopped mid sentence as she entered the dinning room and saw all the chairs had been somehow stacked upon the table. The legs had been perfectly balanced on the upside down chairs and everything else had been forced away from the table in the middle of the room. Paul, a small and unremarkable bald man stood half naked, wrapped only about the waste in a towel. he was dripping wet and looking at the odd sculpture.

“What happened?” She struggled to speak through shock.

“I was upstairs having a shower and heard voices, I thought you'd come back. When I saw this I almost shit myself.”

Paul brushed past her as he spoke. “I'm going to finish my shower, don't touch anything I want to get some pics”

“you're not funny” she said following him out of the room.

Paul looked at her and smiled “Jess I didn't do that”

“sure you didn't” she retorted storming into the kitchen and slamming the door behind her.

Paul debated following her but over the course of their seven year relationship he had learnt when to let her cool off.


John sat in the living room and flicked the television on, he embraced the emptiness he felt looking at plastic people and over priced plastic life styles. He questioned if the emptiness he felt had drawn whatever it was to him or if, as the doctor had told him, it was something his depressed addled mind had dredged up to give voice to his suffering. The day passed, as they so often did, marked only by the hourly alarm on his phone. John walked into the kitchen, crossed the cold floor with his bare feet clapping as he strode with force to the drawer and pulled it open, picked up the box of Prozac and took his daily pill with a sip from a glass of water. He hated taking them, they masked his problems; they didn't fix them. He felt that taking them made him a liar. They also gave life a dreamlike texture he didn't like, after putting the glass in the sink he turned and started back towards the open door he had came through. A strange feeling gripped him and in that instance he felt like hiding. The air in the hallway shimmered. John felt colder than he ever had, he instinctively bolted between the kitchen door and the fridge beside it. He peeked through the gap between the door and its frame and saw a small haggled old women in a dusty blue cardigan, she had silver wire like hair. Her face, if you could call it that, had no distinguishing features. He was drawn to the deep holes that bulged when her face contracted. He didn't know how, but he could feel her eyes upon him, she wandered aimlessly down the staircase and as he watched her, she slowly paused, tilted her head like it rested on a pivot and then turned back to him before she dropped to all fours and vanished as though she had never been there.


He peeled himself free of his concealment. Don't stay here a second more his mind screamed, he fought the urge to stay and he made it as far as the hall door before his legs clamped in place and as his head swam, each step towards the door became harder than the last. He stopped; he had to but he couldn't do it, he just couldn't. Even if the house had become hell on earth, it was still preferable than the swirling mass of people beyond the door. He turned back, each step away from the front door made him feel better, more like himself. So with failing will, he pushed aside the thoughts of the lady and carried out his everyday tasks: caring for his dogs, cleaning, reading on every subject and dreading the approaching night that was the spirit's cover.


He wandered up the steps, blacking out the journey as he often did. Lost in his memories he seemed to run on autopilot. He suddenly snapped out of his daze as he found himself in the secluded passage leading to his bedroom. The light shifted behind him, the hair on his neck stood, charged with electricity. He felt a presence as though someone was breathing down his neck or standing uncomfortably close to him. He shuddered and the feeling passed, he quickened his pace towards his room, the sound of footsteps came from behind him, rushing him they reverberated in the empty passage, he turned expecting an attack, raised his hands to shield his face and saw... nothing but an empty passage. He entered his room and closed the door as his heart pounded and shook him to the core.


He sat alone in his bedroom, bathed in the pale light of the television screen. He checked his phone, the time read 11.11 not long now he thought to himself, almost on cue the irritating scraping started. A low scuttling sound, like a trapped animal that seemed to come from every wall simultaneously.


Standing from the green shabby chair he used to play his computer games, he tentatively moved towards the wall and placed his ear against it. He quickly reeled back in horror as he heard a rasping guttural voice call out his name. Terrified he punched the wall. Whatever this thing was scrambled up the wall and into the roof space. He spent the rest of the night watching the locked door, till sleep finally claimed him.


Jessica pulled the light string as she entered the lavish bathroom that she and Paul had spent the better part of a week decorating, she loved the light blue walls and expensive glistening tiles. She didn't admit it to herself but she followed décor fads and had been desperate to change the style of the room the moment she had moved in. She removed her glasses and dressing gown revealing her naked body to the cold air of the bathroom. She turned the taps, watched the water pump out then removed her make up. She stood in the nude admiring her reflection. She wasn't a vain women but she understood that she was attractive. She loosened her red hair from the bun she wore when she worked, it cascaded down and bunched about her shoulders. She shut the water off, climbed into the deep bath. The warm water seductively wrapped itself around her naked body. She felt the stress of the day wash away as she melted into the water. She lay there cradled in the warm embrace and closed her eyes, after two or more deep breaths she plunged bellow the water line. Her red hair flowed freely in the water about her. She opened her eyes and from the bottom of the bath looked up to see a dark, looming, distorted figure standing over her. She exhaled in surprise, bubbles rushed to the surface as she did. Coughing and spluttering she hung over the edge of the tub and in the cold air steam rose from her in wisps, she scanned the empty room. She hurriedly clambered from the tub unlocked the bathroom door crossed to the adjacent bedroom. “Paul!, Paul!” She shouted. Paul came rushing up from downstairs, clasped her shaking hands then hugged her.

“God ,you look like you've seen a ghost”, he jokingly said. Jessica squirmed and shivered, he held her on the landing, guided her into the bedroom and pulled back the thick beige duvet and tucked her in.


With forced male bravado he said “I'll check the bathroom” he wasn't scared per se but having known Jess for nine years he had never seen her so afraid. He entered the bathroom and closed the door behind him. Jessica felt the bed shift as he climbed in beside he, she felt his arm slide up her body and rest on her chest. “not tonight” she said smiling. “What babe?” Paul called from the bathroom. Jessica opened her eyes, wide in realisation and screamed as she jumped out of the bed. Paul came rushing in from the bathroom. They stood and watched the bed sheets hang over some unseen person laying in the bed. The sheets flung across the room. Whatever it was ran for the bedroom door slamming it shut as it fled.


Jessica screamed. Paul pushed her behind him protecting her. He grabbed a lamp from the dresser as a weapon and walked towards the bedroom door. He gripped the lamp so tightly in the other hand, his knuckles turned white. He reached out with his trembling free hand and turned the oval door knob pulling the door open. Paul couldn't see much in the gloom of the hallway. He left the safety of the room and moved towards the light switch on the wall. Jessica watched him go out into the dark. Paul flicked the switch. He didn't hear the click over his own pounding heart. He flicked it on again and still there was no reassuring flash of light. Paul looked up at the shattered light bulb the shadows on the ceiling shifted. From the darkness came an impossibly long and thin black arm its hand reached for him. Paul slung himself to the floor to dodge its grip. it clawed at his back as he crawled to the door. Paul screamed in agony when it raked his flesh. “Jess shut the door!” He shouted as he stood and turned to face the entity. Jessica rushed the door slamming it shut. The entity poured from the ceiling and congealed into a vaguely human form. It stood at 9ft tall and walked towards him as it hissed “ He iss ourss ” Paul hit out with his makeshift weapon striking the Entity on the arm shattering the lamp instantly, driving jagged porcelain into his hand. Paul screamed in pain. The entity gripped him and with its other arm lifted and slammed him into the wall. Paul gasped as the wind was forced from him and he fell into darkness.


Jessica could hear the fight outside the bedroom door. When the sounds died so did her hope of seeing Paul alive again. She sat with her back braced against the door crying, her loud sobbing was the only sound in the bedroom. She opened the door after what seemed like hours. She peeked round into the dark her eyes were drawn to Paul slumped against the wall but found no sign of the entity. She rushed to Paul and found him bloody and broken but alive. Joy flooded her as he took a long wheezing breath. She helped him to his feet and they staggered down the staircase to the front door. At times she had to drag him and it was a constant battle to keep moving. She grabbed her keys from the bowl by the door. The pale glow of morning broke the tree line as Jessica and Paul fell onto the drive way. She helped Paul to his feet and into the car. Jessica had realised that in her haste to flee the house she had left her phone behind. She badly wanted to phone John to tell him that everything he feared was real but pressing matters forced the thought from her. When she looked at Paul’s unconscious body in the passenger seat, all she could think was I need to take care of my family first.



John cherished the daylight hours. The company of his family. But as the day moved on they would leave for their own homes and the comfort of their own families. Everyone moved forward it seemed; everyone but him. He walked into the living room and cleaned up after his niece and nephew. They were whirlwinds of sound and mess but they were happy. The small joy they gave him kept him going. After everyone had left he let the dogs back in, closed the door and sat with them. He lifted the remote control and pushed the power button, it flicked to life spewing the day time T.V sewage he so loathed into the room. He watched it and hated every minute, over the blare of some fatuous bint jabbering about dog modelling he could hear people talking. He muted the television and looked out the window expecting to see a group of people walking past. He saw no one, he listened more intently to the muffled conversation. It seemed as though a single person spoke and then replied to itself but the words were to distorted to be understood.


He got up from the sofa, the dogs watched him as he moved to the door. The voices became louder with each step. He was sure they were right outside the door. He reached for the handle. A blood curdling scream rang out when he put his hand on it. Instinctively he recoiled from the sound covering his ears with his hands. The scream trailed off so he removed his hands from his ears. Now too afraid of what lay beyond the door, he sat in the living room and watched more vapid television programs he didn't much care for. His dogs lay asleep on the other sofa, a Rhodesian ridge-back and a collie cross. The ridge-back was a proud animal, but its mood had changed of late. He had become dangerous to be around. The collie, however old, was still as sweet as she had always been. He watched them and felt empty. He struggled to care about many things now.


Trapped inside the room as he was. He fell back into his memories. This time he was at high school and sat at the back of a history class to avoid answering questions he knows the answers to, In front of him a group of boys bully a girl. He wants to stop them and to tell her how he feels but he doesn’t. Now he is twenty one, he sits in a dark pub and although he arrived with friends, he sits alone. His friend talks freely to enthralled drinkers slurring his words and stumbling. He wants to leave but doesn’t. Sifting through each memory, living each moment again, he imagines changing the out come of each.


The night came again as it always did and with the fading light the usual fear washed over him. He sat alone in his room talking to the small group of online friends he had cultivated playing video games. The phone downstairs rang, he didn't want to go and answer in the dark but couldn't just let it ring. He rubbed his tired eyes and exhaled loudly filling the void of the room, the sound reverberated across the empty space. Warily he stood and stretched out, he listened for the satisfying click that came when he did so and then stepped over the myriad of discarded food packaging on his way to the door. He reached out for the faded gold handle of the unvarnished wooden door, before his hand could grasp it, the handle turned and the door slid open an inch. He flung himself at the door. It took all his strength to keep it from flinging open. The rasping crawling voice called out to him. The distorted sound dripped with malice, it turned his blood to ice water. He exhaled and his breath drifted from him in plumes. The temperature had dropped. Whatever was on the other side of the door, pulled the heat from the surrounding area and replaced it with frigged air. His fear gave him strength and he pushed with everything he had, the latch shifted then clicked. He turned the key but any sense of victory vanished when three bone like fingers appeared from under the door, they dragged at the wood carving deep fallows as they fell back under the door. A cold fear gripped him now. If this thing could harm physical matter then it could potentially kill him, “what do you want from me?” he forced out; the sound of his own voice seemed so alien to him. The only reply, a harsh female laugh, a chilling sound like finger nails drawn down a chalkboard or metal scrapping on metal. The laughter faded and warmth returned to his fingers, he relaxed his arms and released a breath he hadn't realised he was holding. From downstairs he could still hear the phone ringing. He couldn't summon the courage to answer, so he checked the door was locked and tipped a cupboard in front of it, this small sense of safety helped him sleep even if it was a restless sleep.



Sun light slid in through the crack in the curtain, dissecting the room like a scalpel. Dust danced in the pale beam. He awoke and for a moment the events of the night before were a half forgotten nightmare. Then through blurry eyes he saw his makeshift barricade and his heart sank, this nightmare had become his reality and every day was harder than the last.



He forced his limbs out of the bed, lifted the knife from the side of his bed, sheathed it and placed it back under his pillow. He dressed himself and pushed the cupboard upright and away from the door. He crouched to examine the claw marks and ran his fingers down the groves as though touching was believing. He unlocked the door and pocketed the key then forced his head outside the room. The scene of destruction devastated him, everything in the hallway had been upturned or shredded. The entire length of the passage walls had deep scratches running down them. Even the framed photos of happier times had been carved in half and glass littered the floor. As he moved down the passage, every step sounded out a crunch like walking over fresh fallen snow and each step hurt his bare feet. When he looked behind him his meandering path had been marked out by crimson blots on the wooden floor. He tried to walk on but the pain from his shredded feet forced him to stop. Propping himself on the wall he pulled on a slender shard of clear glass, blood gushed from the deep puncture marks that peppered his feet. He bit down on his lip and when the shard came free as he gasped in pain. Drawing it out and rocking it free he dropped it and limped on towards the landing door.


When he came to the door he saw first hand the destruction levelled against the hallway had also been directed at the door. The door had been forced into the frame, the wood had splintered and meshed together from the impact. He gripped the bottom of the door and with every tug more blood pumped from the cuts on his feet. After working the door free he hobbled into the bathroom. Sat on the side of the bath tub, he cleaned the cuts as best he could and then wrapped the wounds with toilet paper and limped back into the stairwell. The devastation abruptly stopped at the doorway into the stairwell, everything on this side was pristine and unspoilt. He slowly descended the stairs, each footfall burned with a white hot pain. He swung open the kitchen door and raised his hand to cover his face from the stench that hit him. Inside the kitchen every counter had been covered with human excrement, the fetid odour was almost unbearable. It stung his eyes and to his horror he could almost taste it. He spent the next hour cleaning the filth from everything. When he finished, he sat down in the adjacent living room, on the same sofa he had fallen asleep on that night two months ago.


He awoke to the dogs barking, a cacophonous sound of primal fear they slowly backed away from the kitchen, never braking eye contact with the corner of the room. They snarled and growled at the invisible intruder and as suddenly as it started they stopped and fell silent. He stood and limped into the kitchen. He opened the cupboard next to the old fridge and pulled out a bottle of whisky and a packet of instant noodles. The lack of solid sleep had started to take its toll on him. He took a long swig from the bottle and emptied the contents of the noodles into boiling water and peered out the window into the unkempt garden beyond. Today's not a glass kind of a day he thought, taking another long swig. He plated up the noodles and then took another sip draining the bottle, placed it on the counter and lifted the box of Prozac and read aloud, “do not consume with alcohol” he snorted derisively and looked out over the garden again. The fridge door behind him crept open and birthed a twisted grey child. It uncoiled its limbs. As it moved it twitched its head in the open air of the kitchen. Its' skin cracked open revelling two black orbs and its' lips drew back into a Grim is, flashing its descended yellowed fangs as it fixed him in its gaze and slowly stretched out its pale decrepit arm. Each movement of a joint clicked against the rigamortis and shook water droplets from its body. Placing hand over hand it dragged its body towards him. Leaving a trail of water behind it as it lumbered towards his turned back, getting closer and closer it reached out for him its fingers twitched in excitement. The dogs growls pulled him from his day dream as he turned and saw nothing but a half open fridge and an empty room. He moved towards the fridge but slipped on the pool of cold water and hit his head hard against the floor. He began to drift in and out of consciousness. In his dazed state he heard the kitchen door open and footsteps approach him from the doorway.


Through blurry half closed eyes he could see the bare feet of a hag. Her elongated yellow toenails taped on the cold kitchen floor as she walked. She loomed over him. Her face appeared melted or distorted, she resembled the mask of Melpomenethe muse of tragedy. She placed a hand next to his face and the other on his chest. Pushing down he felt her tallen like nails dig into his flesh through his shirt as she moved her desiccated face above his. She sniffed the air, each time he exhaled she would draw it in. He closed his eyes and faded out once more. When he awoke the fridge door was still open. He struggled back to his feet and into the living room. His throat burned, his feet stung and he felt light headed. How long was I out he thought, lifting the still warm plate and limping back into the living room.



Inside the living room he could hear the dogs barking but didn't move. Indifference had become a way of life for him. He went through the motions of daily life with less energy every day. He ate alone and took no joy from it, as with most things he did now.

He removed the bedroom key from his pocket, reached for his food then promptly passed out.


Full on panic grasped him when he awoke. The night had crept up on him and he was trapped downstairs. His terrified mind darted from one horrific scenario to another but nothing could have prepared him for what he was about to see.


Scanning the dark room he could make out patches that streaked the floor, he followed them with his eyes tracing the lines across the floor and up the wall. He stood and limped to the light switch, flicking it on the darkness rushed from the room and left in its wake a macabre scene.

Above the fire place suspended by kitchen knives a gutted dog carcase. Its chest had been torn out, its inners hung about the room and dumped haphazardly on the floor. What little strength he had left fell away and he crumpled in its absence. He sobbed into his hands as bad as the image was the sickly sweet metallic smell of the gore made him retch, a hollow empty sound. He took hold of himself and from his new vantage point on the ground he saw the body of the collie stuffed behind the sofa he had been laying on. Her back was broken the jagged bone had exploded outwards when she had been folded in half. “ oh god ” he mouthed. He heaved himself to his tattered feet and steadied himself against the wall behind him.


darkness flowed from the fireplace it moved like water but looked like smoke. It congealed before him into a mockery of a human form. It stood about 5ft tall and didn't move. It seemed to him that it was more than black it was the very absence of light. It studied him then took a step forward, he ran, the adrenalin blocking out the pain of his feet. He was through the door before the black mass had moved an inch more and took the stairs two at a time. His tired legs and mangled feet burned like hot coles and still he did not stop till he came to the ocean of shattered glass. He could hear it now on the stairs, it called to him. He did not look back as the fear drove him forward. Once more he waded out into the clear painful sea. He could feel it now behind him matching his lumbering steps. The glass under foot cut his feet, but he didn't feel it. His life depended on getting to the bedroom door, he pushed on and a sense of safety flooded him as he pushed it open and slammed it behind him. He lent against the door breathing heavily. He slid his hand to the lock, the key was missing he couldn't lock the door. The implications fell upon him, he knew he was finished.


The handle turned he tried in vain to stop it but he was exhausted. The door bucked and sent him sprawling onto the ground. He slammed into the desk, knocking a stack of sketches onto the ground. He scrambled away from the doorway, crumpling them as he fled the encroaching darkness. Time seemed to slow, seconds felt like hours. the temperature dropped and silence filled the room. “what the fuck are you?” he screamed shattering the silence “Sie sind Medikamente Set Me free ” came the reply. It spoke in a hollow almost empty voice and each word stung at his ears, it moved towards him as it spoke, he watched it move closer and closer. It fell into a pool of inky black liquid and washed over him, a feeling of cold an unbearable cold preceded the shadow as it moved up and over his body. It clawed at his face, wrenched open and washed inside his mouth. In his last moments he doesn't feel empty.


Jessica pulled up outside the large isolated house. She rushed from the car without turning the engine off. She didn't plan on stopping long, all she wanted was to grab John and leave. She knew he wouldn't come willingly but she had to try, after all she felt responsible for him. Jessica ran up the drive way to the front door and found it locked, she rang the door bell. Franticly she called to him.

“John! John!”

John unlocked and opened the door, looked at her with cold blue eyes then spoke.

“Everything is fine Jessica, auf wiedersehen” he said nodding his head as he stepped outside into the sunlight and walked away.


John felt like a passenger inside his own body. He felt the thing inside him flex out and force his legs to move. If he still controlled his heart rate it would have punched free from his chest and slid across the dirt but he didn't part of him felt excitement at stepping out into the world he had given up on and the other part of him screamed in terror at how exposed he felt. Inside his mind he could feel her this blackness. When she had taken him he had retreated and traded his physical prison for a mental one. She whispered to him of all the things, the grate and terrible things she intended.


© Copyright 2020 DGuest. All rights reserved.

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