Okiku.

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
What would you do if you were surrounded by darkness day by day? Slowly losing grip on who you are, who you once were.
Okiku does all she knows, she counts.

Submitted: April 30, 2014

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Submitted: April 30, 2014

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A A A


One….two….three….four….

The time has come again for the darkness to wash over the town. Shadows will rule and nocturnal monsters will hunt.

It’s time.

Five….six….seven….eight….

Time for me to sit here entrapped in these dark walls once again, darkness is all I ever see. Darkness is all I shall remain to see.

The void around me is no longer what it once was; there was a time when I could tell the transition from night to day by the light that appeared at the top of the well, but that stopped long ago.

….Nine.…

I can’t recall how many years I’ve been stuck down here, counting…eternally counting.

Why won’t anyone help me?

Why won’t anyone make it stop?

I’m sorry.

One….two…three….four….

I won’t stop, I can’t stop. Not until everyone knows of the tortures my master put me through, the accusations, the isolation.

Being stuck in this well with myself night by night, I can see nothing and all I hear is the echo of my own voice. If I held my decaying hand out in front of me I’d see nothing, the grey and rotting skin would be swallowed by the impenetrable black that enshrouded my vision. By this point I believe I may have forgotten what colours were but I do remember that my skin was grey and lifeless the last time I saw it.

I’ve forgotten many things; even the largest details have eluded me.

One….two….three….four….

I’m sorry.

I can’t remember what I’m sorry for but I’m sorry, I can’t apologise enough.

It doesn’t matter does it?

You will never come to save me.

No matter how often I apologise no one will forgive me, my master will never hear or know of my regret. All my words are drowned out by unfamiliar rumbles from above me; the only one who will hear my apology is myself otherwise it’s all lost amongst the solid bricks of my confinement.

Five….six….seven….eight….

No one will hear me so I shall have to continue counting until my voice is hoarse and lifeless; I noticed the hope fade years ago

Now all I do is count.

I count to help my lingering feeling of isolation.

I count because it’s all I know.

I’ll count until I’m found.

….Nine….


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