Horror Child

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
This is the beginning of a complicated horror story involving a mother and her child. This is just a taste of what is to come. It will send chills down your spine the deeper you go into this horror mystery story. Enjoy..

Submitted: January 09, 2011

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Submitted: January 09, 2011

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Four months into my pregnancy with my son Thomas I was hospitalized for 2 weeks. I had lost a great amount of blood in a head injury. My family is very religious and when I fainted at my mother’s funeral and hit my head on a tombstone they believed I was cursed. The first night I was in that white, white hospital  after hitting my head my life changed forever. For, when the sun goes down and evening lays it’s spell over the earth, that is when I knew that I would, unwillingly be dragged into that strange world.

 

There was a clock over the doorway to my room. I listened to it ticking and tocking to keep my mind off all the screams and groaning as people in pain lay in their hospital beds hoping with every inch of their body they would survive. I listened to it tick and I listened to it tock as the nurses came in to check my blood pressure, my heartbeat, and so-on-and-so-forth all day. As the first nightfall happened upon me in that hospital I grew sleepy, but not tired enough to ultimately go to sleep. So I continued watching the clock. It was nearing eight o’clock, about 8:56… tick tock, tick tock. One of the fluorescent lights in my room flickered. Like it was winking at me. It was a deceitful wink but I convinced my self to think nothing of it though my skin prickled up slightly and my ears began to be a bit more alert. All of a sudden I felt cold. Like a man from the north had come in from the snow and breathed down my back.. tick tock, tick tock,… the seconds hand had just passed the six and was nearing the twelve to claim the time of eight o’clock. It passed 7, 8… 9, 10… I looked back at the flickering light for the last time this night, unaware that something was in my room.

I was dragged off my bed by rough hands, big hands. I screamed for help. My mouth made no sound. I kicked my legs and hit the doorway but heard nothing. I could only hear my panicky breath and the frantic beating of my heart inside my head. It was like I was underwater. I was dragged out of my room and placed in the hallway.  The hands lowered me to the floor commanding me to sit. Suddenly I was free. My eyes squinting in the harsh white lights, searching for the body attached to those hands. For when I was placed down they instantly detached themselves from my skin. I got not one glimpse of the man.

 

My hands were on the cold, tiled floor and my legs were out in front of me slightly bent at the knees so my bare feet were also on the icy tile. Something felt different. I was breathing heavily on the floor in a world that had changed. A world of insanity it had become.

 

I cautiously stood up, my body shaking in shock, fear, and confusion. There was a high-pitched ringing in my ears but besides that I heard nothing. There is something very wrong about the peristyle. This is not the same one outside my room I have seen from the hospital bed. Yet it was. I looked to my right and saw my room, my bed, the place I had felt so uncomfortable in but now all I wanted was to go back there. The room darkened. The door closed on it’s own. Now my room was no longer an option for escape. Slowly I faced forward again and like something out of a bizarre picture that some mentally unstable artists mind has conceived, the floor and walls seem to tilt downwards, the brush deliberately used on the canvas to make you dizzy from looking at it.

 

The walls were white, a familure color to all hospitals but this was different now, something had changed. They were no longer the cream, clean white of my father’s cotton shirts but a harsh, dry, stark white, of bones with the traces of any skin, muscle, and blood of the living thing they once belonged to removed.

 

The smell was one of familatery too, like the latex gloves and antiseptic in hospitals. But it didn’t give me the feeling of a place that can make me get my blood restored and my injuries fixed. It felt more of a place where they sent the mad, mentally and criminally insane. It seemed as though they had just cleaned up the spots on the floor where the patients had had spastic episodes and ht the walls thus spilling blood.

 

The coldness was still there, a draft that silently crept in and refused to be shut out. Scrapping along my skin like the blade of a knife the cold felt like. It was piercing my skin and cutting through tissue and muscle, sawing deeper and harder until it was nicking and chipping away at my bones.

 

There was a door at the end of the hallway. Past that door eventually led to the place where people were cut with scissors and saws, poked with knifes and needles, the surgery rooms. There were eight doors four to the left, four to the right. Sick and hurt people were behind those doors before eight o’clock but now I feel an inky darkness lurks behind them.

 

I stood like a statue. The cold held my arms close to my body my skin in desperate search for warmth. There were peep holes on each door and I felt as if at each one there was a fiery eye behind it. Evil eyes watching me, stalking me, their prey was standing under the lights pinning her to the floor so exposed, so vulnerable, so filled with fresh blood and meat. All the blood rushed to my head, making me dizzy, my body felling slow and numb. It was like I was under water again, but this time more dramatic, limbs and senses not working quickly enough to let me reach the surface though there was no surface to this passageway. I was becoming claustrophobic as the walls seemed more narrow. I felt myself sinking further and deeper into the merciless waters.

 

The door at the end of the hall suddenly moved. It creaked open wide enough for me to go through but also wide enough for somebody to come in. Behind the door all there is, is darkness. I squinted to see if there was any bit of light but that only confirmed my first observation. No.  That is when I heard that terrifying sound that made me cringe and made my already nervous stomach bubble with vomit that was making it’s way to the back of my teeth. It was a horrendous hissing that sounded as if somebody had taken a snake and twisted it like they were ringing out a towel bringing to it’s mouth sounds of torment. A screech of pure evil, insanity, torture, and came from the unknown at the end of the hall. It engulfed me making every drop of blood in my body freeze. Goosebumps covered every inch of flesh. My heart was pounding inside my rib cage with enough power to hammer it’s way out and surrender to the cold tile below.

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To Be Continued..


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