Just Beneath The Skin

Reads: 316  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 0

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Reddit
  • Pinterest
  • Invite

More Details
Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
Sometimes in seeing, you become blind
My feet are screaming in protest, as they push off rocky, nightmarish terrain. I can’t stop. The clock is ticking, and with it, the minutes my sister and I will have left to live if we don’t best this sick game.
He’s still watching me, his opaque eyes haunting. Even though he’s mad. Even though he’s blind.
5.
4.
3.
2.
1.
“To find your kin, look beneath the skin.”

Submitted: April 18, 2013

A A A | A A A

Submitted: April 18, 2013

A A A

A A A


 

Everything hurt.

She was speaking to me, her tone chastising, but I couldn’t hear her over the sound of my heartbeat within my ears. The only source of light was the flickering light bulb hanging above my head on a rustic, iron chain.

The shackles around my wrists were cold, so cold, they burned.

A wide, maniacal grin stretched its way over her lips, and I knew that it was going to be the last thing I ever saw. She maliciously raised her arm, scalpel gleaming in the dim light.

“You’ve been bad, Aaren.”

Emre awoke to the sound of gently falling rain.

His amber eyes cracked opened, to stare blearily at the ceiling, waiting for his vision to focus. Groaning, he rolled onto his side and his eyes fell on the framed picture on the dresser. It was a painting he’d done in kindergarten. ‘Kids are so cliché,’ he snorted, and scanned the image of his stick-figure family holding hands. His father and mother stood together, he in the middle, and his grandpa on the other side, all with large smiles on their faces. He grinned at it, and was about to roll back over when he realised something that sent a chill down his spine.

Sevim, his twin sister, wasn’t in the painting.

The drowsy fog lifted and he kicked the sheets away and scrambled from the bed to the dresser. He snatched the frame, and gripped it so tightly his knuckles turned white. He whipped around and quickly scanned the room; the bed with the plain sheets crumpled on the floor, the cupboard embedded in the wall to the right. The mahogany dresser before him, always opposite the bed and next to the old bookshelf his grandpa had carved. A large window punctuated the opposite wall, silenced by the velvet curtains. All in all, his room looked the same as it had when he had fallen asleep, yet, Sevim’s absence from the picture caused an icy knot of fear to coil in his stomach.

He swallowed the lump in his throat, and approached the door. Sevim’s room was right by his, it wouldn’t hurt to check on her. He twisted the brass doorknob and stepped into the corridor. It was pitch black. Emre cursed, and felt around the wall for the light-switch. Suddenly the texture of the wall under his hand turned from firm and slightly powdery to rubbery. He froze, slowly retracted his hand, eyes wide with fear.

What the hell had he just touched?

There was a faint click and the lights flickered. Emre hissed and threw his arm over his face, blinded by the sudden brightness. He blinked, as his eyes adjusted and peered at the wall.

His stomach leaped into his throat.

The portion of the wall was twisted into his grandpa’s face, every wrinkle and crease perfectly sculpted. Emre felt terror’s talons trailing up his back, as he subconsciously reached out to prod it.

It still felt rubbery and Emre jerked his hand back with a stifled yelp as its eyes opened. It emitted a horrid, gurgling sound as a clawed hand sprung from what should have been drywall. Strings of black sludge trailed from its fingers. An arm and a foot followed. Its colourless eyes followed him as he shakily backed away. Sludge pooled on the floor, as it nearly released itself. Emre realised to his terror, as it took a shaky step towards him with gunge dribbling from its limbs, he was going to have to run.

 

The rain plummeted from the sky, onto her light auburn hair. It trickled down her neck, through her skin, to her bones. Sevim shivered, and wrapped her arms around her shoulders, upset that she’d forgotten to bring a coat or an umbrella…Again.

She’d woken and gone straight downstairs to the kitchen for breakfast. She hadn’t heard a peep from anyone and she assumed that the family were still asleep. She’d wanted to make herself something, but she feared the noise would wake Emre who would be grumpy. She didn’t want that. Instead she opted to stroll around the block. By her return, the family would be awake and breakfasting. She could be as loud as she wanted to. Usually they were all up before her. This was an unusual day.

Sevim’s mind wandered as she did, thoughts rolling through her conscious, unaware of where her feet were leading her. She only snapped out of her reverie when she stopped in front of the rustic iron park gates. She giggled and skipped in, intending to sit under that big tree by the pond and watch the ducks glide across the glassy water’s surface. Frowning, a pout formed on her lips, as she realised she should have brought her sketchbook. The thought was soon discarded, as she started wandering through the gardens, failing to notice that the Pink Stargazer Lilies she adored had been replaced by Venus Flytraps, maws gaping.

His own heart was pounding in his ears, Emre sprinted down the corridor, fighting the urge to scream. Spots were dancing across his vision and he felt shattered. A single white door appeared on the horizon and Emre quickened his pace as the droning behind him became deafening. A talon swiped across his back, just missing.

Emre slammed the door and pressed his back against it; head low, to slow his panting. The corridor seemed to stretch for miles and he’d leapt into the first door he’d seen, the monster wearing his grandpa’s face down his back.

The horrific squelching of footsteps grew close and Emre squeezed his eyes shut. Teeth sank into his lower lip to prevent a scream. The footsteps paused at the door. Black sludge that oozed from the monster pooled beneath the door. Emre felt it seep between his toes and fought the urge to gag. The door jolted, and Emre flinched. He was found.

Panic began to rise in an unpleasant bubble, as he surveyed the room. More sludge oozed under the door and Emre jumped away.  The room was about the size of a closet, and to his surprise, there was nothing in it. As much as he feared it, he began to press on the walls, hoping to locate a secret switch, a doorway, something. He flinched as his hand brushed over a papery texture. With the agitated moaning outside, he began to claw at the wall. Shreds of paper peeled with every scratch, until finally; he made out the shape of a doorknob. Without thinking he pulled, praying that it would open.

It was stuck.

Emre cursed, of all the things. He tugged on it feverishly, as the wood splinters began to collect at his feet. With a final tug, it wrenched free. He slipped through, as the door came crashing down.

Much to Sevim’s disappointment, there were no ducks on the pond, despite the damp weather being their favourite. Oh well, she had forgotten the bread, so she supposed it was for the best. With a sigh, she ambled to the rickety bench, the one she’d always sit on with Emre and paused.

Hunched over and cockroach-like, was a person within a black clump of material. Well, she assumed a person. The shapeless robe made it difficult to tell. The figure sat motionlessly, their face hidden in the darkness of the hood. Sevim could do nothing but stare.

A, rasping voice from within the hood broke the silence.

 

An intricate web of lies, to end them, look to the skies,”

 

Sevim cocked her head, like a confused puppy. What was this person on about? With a chuckle, the figure stood on bandy legs and stumbled away, leaving her staring blankly with jaw slackened. The hooded one disappeared into the mist.

She pulled at the hair plastered to her face by the torrential rain and exhaled through her nose, how peculiar. Her head hurting, she dismissed the strange feeling and strolled back along the path, admiring the clouds twisted together in a monochromatic masterpiece.

Emre pressed his back against the door, clutching at his chest, as he quelled the fear in his heart. The wind howled and the thunder raised its voice; the sounds swirling in an apocalyptic symphony. The icy rain splattered against him and Emre shivered. Stuffing his hands into his pockets to warm his fingers, he crept from the house, so as not to alert his presence to anything else lying in wait.

The street looked the same, but Emre’s inner sceptic wasn’t fooled. There was no way that the boulevard could possibly be ‘normal’, after what happened at the house. Images of the monster, groping for Sevim, surged through his mind.  Panic began to squeeze his heart. He shook his head; there was no time for this. He needed to find Sevim. His pace quickened to a sprint and he headed down the main road that formed an apex with the park.  That was airheaded Sevim’s favourite place.

Emre noticed with a tight-lipped frown that there was no one loitering around, as normal. Pitch-black gloom swirled within shop alcoves and there was no birdsong. The tiny hairs on Emre’s neck stood on end, as he peered around the corner. His eyes widened.

A formless black robe swept the cobblestone street as the zephyr howled. It seemed oddly familiar and Emre couldn’t help but creep closer to try and get a better look. The figure suddenly span, the dark cloth sweeping the ground. Opaque beryl eyes stared back blankly from the obsidian darkness within the hood. Emre felt a chill creep down his spine.

The cloak swirled around the person’s legs, as they moved closer. Emre froze, his feet rooted to the spot. His tongue swelled in his throat. Pale fingers crept from the depths of the sleeves and ghosted over his cheeks. They were so cold they burned and Emre jumped.

“To find your kin, look beneath the skin,”

His hoarse voice crackled like fire leaping into motion. His fingers slid over Emre’s face in a way that seemed…like he was trying to identify it. Emre leapt back, throwing his hands off. The hooded figure didn’t seem surprised as he drew away and disappeared down the street.

After a day of distractions, Sevim ended up standing on the bridge, peering into the water rushing underneath.  She noticed something out of place.

The water was completely dull. There was no reflection of light in the water. Sevim span to stare at the city, the lights glistened against the ebony sky in a contrast between light and bla-

There were no stars or moon in the sky.

Sevim felt fear’s needle pricking at the back of her neck. This was beyond strange. The stars and moon couldn’t just disappear.  Come to think of it, the clouds had been so thick that day she hadn’t actually seen the sun.  A strangled cry escaped her, as she flew to the railing. She practically hung over the side; tell me I’m dreaming, please, someone just tell me I’m dreaming.

She froze as she caught her reflection, or rather didn’t. It wasn’t her reflection she saw. Emre’s amber eyes stared back at her, wide with worry, his lips moving, with no words. Sevim rubbed her eyes, believing she was dreaming. When she looked again, it was gone and her own disturbed green eyes were peering intently back. However, the moon and stars were still strangely absent.

Sevim shook her head, as if stumbling from a daze, that’s right, she thought, I haven’t seen Emre. He would’ve come looking for me by now. Come to think of it, I haven’t seen anyone. Sevim nearly shrieked at the realisation and pivoted, dashing back over the bridge, sprinting for home.

She didn’t notice the opaque eyes following her as she ran.

Emre slumped over in the park bench he often sat in with Sevim. He had searched for her all day and by now his worry had become anxiety. He buried his head in his hands. This was terrifying. Mannequins stared from shop windows with crazed eyes and teeth like stalactites. He hadn’t seen sunlight all day, and he felt like he was being watched constantly. To top it off, he’d noticed, whilst glancing over his shoulder, the hooded figure had been tailing him and mumbling something about ‘being bad’. He felt caged, like a hamster in a glass box.  Was he running around and around while people outside the box laughed and jeered?

 

 

Hack.

Cough.

Choke.

The sound snapped him back to reality.

The face exposed, the hooded figure was slumped against his shoulder. They had found him, caught him, punished him.

An old, ugly scar twisted over his face, stretching from his right eye, down to the left corner of his nose. His ebony hair caked with a pungent mixture of blood and dirt and his blank eyes were fixed in a stare, even with the purple swelling under them. Emre knew he wasn’t staring at him; he was blind. The boy grinned, and Emre winced at the bloodied gap in his teeth.

“At the end of the world, is where your existences are entwirled.”

 

 


© Copyright 2020 EllieC. All rights reserved.

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Reddit
  • Pinterest
  • Invite

Add Your Comments:

More Horror Short Stories