Waverly's Story

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
Waverly is trapped in a nightmare and cannot get out.

Submitted: October 13, 2012

A A A | A A A

Submitted: October 13, 2012



The water looked deep and inviting.

My mind swirled like a dark abyss, punctured by flashes of lightning, screams of fury, glints of metal, and the rusty taste of blood.

I tried to see down to the very bottom of the lake that went on forever. I couldn't.

Shadows lurked on the edge of the water, pressing in, pushing me forward.  The ghosts that could come no further stayed back, whispering like wind rustling through dry leaves.

The knife glinted in my hands.

 Lost little children in my head howled and cried out in fear. The hungry wolves snarled, anticipating. Thunder boomed, shaking the earth and then stopping, so still, so still.

I raised the knife.

My worst nightmares, my darkest fears, my meanest, most raw emotions, crawled out of the ground, their gnarled fingers clawing at my toes, straining to reach my throat.

Blood trickled down my arms, down my shoulders, pooling into my palms. Blinding white light seared through the places I cut, sending the fears and nightmares and ugliness retreating into the ground.

Scarlet lines  snaked down my chest, over my stomach, down my legs. My blood splashed over the ground, the metallic scent seeping into my nostrils and making me dizzy.

I dropped the knife into the water, watching it spiral down forever until it disappeared.

With the cold air stinging the slices on my naked body, I began to dance.

The hidden ghouls stepped out of the trees and joined me, waltzing and spinning and twirling, while the ghosts hissed louder and louder, more menacingly. I was the centerpiece, flying through the air on toes of white, shiny bone, blood streaming from my broken body. The pain was blinding, killing any doubt in my mind, any voice that wasn't mine. I was beautiful. I was without flaw, without the anchor of human hatred to hold me down. I was free.

Until, I spun too close to the edge.

My shining skin, slick with blood, slipped on the ground and I tumbled over the edge. 

The wind seared my raw body as I feel towards the dark water, tumbling head over heel for what seemed like eons, the ghouls screaming behind me.

I landed in slow motion, my weak body sinking through the water like jello; slowly, slowly, leaving a trail of blood behind me.

Somewhere in the distance, I heard the agonized scream of my little sister.

A black numbness started to ooze over me, covering my body, numbing the pain of the gashes in my body and invading my mind, eating everything in its path; memories, emotions, faces, names, my very existence...

The last thing I saw before I dissolved into nothingness was the knife, stained with blood.


My name is Waverly.

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