Post by Brownie on Aug 23, 2016 14:53:34 GMT -5
With the mass influx of little horror shorts, I decided to add my own to the number. This was originally written for halloween in 2014, but I'll give it a repost here as the story is still pretty cool. However, I do have to put a few triggers/warnings on it: this story does contain blood, gore, and deaths. Nothing is extremely graphic, but a warning just in case. Anyways, enjoy some dabblings of my old writing!
“Help!” I screamed, panic crushing on my lungs. Coppery blood roared down the back of my throat as my voice cracked. My hands throbbed, scraped as they were from dragging myself through stone and snow. My legs were fire, ravaged, useless, and dripping blood. I didn’t take the moment to look back, but I knew a thick trail of red painted the pure snow crimson.
It was too much to hope for that someone would possibly hear my cries: the tales of the caverns were too fresh in everyone’s minds. Too wildly horrible for anyone to dare come near.
I couldn’t even hear my screeches anymore.
The pain redoubled as the adrenaline faded. Desperately I tried to pull it back, needing, needing its numbing balm and insatiable flames of energy that would be the only thing able to allow me to escape.
Frantically I pulled with my hands, digging into the snow and soil with senseless hands. I pulled and pulled, seeming to make slow progress. Another wave of panic pulled me under.
It has stopped, It doesn’t come in the sun… It.. It…
A crash erupted from behind me, a loud howl combined with an upheaval of the ground that sent my mangled body flying as the earth gave a massive ripple. My heart, already deprived of much blood, redoubled its pace as it tried to hammer out of my chest. My lungs refused to draw in air as the monster -- there is no other word to describe it but such -- emerged.
I couldn’t have run even if my legs were whole. All I could see were its eyes, large, green, ghastly.
Enthralling.
Painful. Harsh.
My arms collapsed, yet my head stayed at an awkward angle over my shoulder as I was forced to watch those eyes grow bigger and bigger.
A great fear pushed into my mind, a pulsing thing that overwhelmed my being. My mind sharpened. I wished I could close my eyes. I wished I could look away. I wished I could die, if only to get this over with.
But It approached Its prey slowly.
It wasn’t like I was going anywhere anytime soon.
----------------------------------------
I never asked how I came to live. I know I passed out, either from fear or lack of blood I assumed.
But that was after the fact.
I only remember times of dark and light, when my mind was free and floating. Like a bubble in the ocean, I would rise to consciousness before a wave crashed over me and I was driven back under. When I finally woke -- actually opened my eyes that is -- it only felt a couple days of this ethereal drifting. Yet Hawthorne told me it had been far over that time, almost a month in fact, and in my condition I was in no place to argue.
It was another couple days before I was able to move around, albeit clumsily, on my ‘fake legs’ crutches. I was weak to begin, but within days my arms grew strong from carrying my weight.
It wasn’t long until I realized I knew exactly where we were. Hawthorne lived in a small cabin right off Lake Mer. I came here often for boating and fishing. I wondered why I had never noticed the quaint home before, but I could not puzzle that out, even with my months of free time.
I found that Hawthorne was many things during my time resting in the cabin by the lake. He was an engineer, having personalized my crutches so that it was easy to move around without the ability to touch the ground. He was a healer, not quite a doctor… I couldn’t think of him as a doctor like the others. A healer, that’s what my mind labeled him as, for he healed me without modern instruments, better than any modern hospital could have done.
He calls himself an artist. Weaving stories and paints, twisting metal and wood and paper. He could take anything and make it beautiful, both purposeful and graceful and wonderous. Words were no barrier. I loved listening to his stories.
And now I'm rambling, as while knowing of my condition and of the person that took me in is vital to the tale, it is not the point I am trying to make. What did matter was what happened to me inside of the caverns, and that is what Hawthorn asked after the snow finally released its grip from the Lake.
"There's said to be a monster in the tunnel system all beneath the forest," I started, using the words I've heard many times in bedtime stories when I was young. It felt… right in this telling. At least to begin it, then would come my tale. "But there is also a treasure. Something so powerful one only needs to touch the item to acquire the gifts it contains. They say whoever can make it all the way in and out alive will become stronger than a lion, faster than a cheetah, more cunning than a tiger.
“There isn’t any light in the tunnels, and all I had were my feet and wits to guide me as I ventured further and further into the belly of the Earth. It was easy to navigate at first, with a hand on one wall, but soon I found my path broken by forks of two or three separate passages, or even larger circular rooms with many of openings. In one place, the ground dipped very low beneath my feet. It was here that the passage was flooded with water, and I had to swim through the utter blackness, only hoping that there was air on the other side.
“But it was if there were a rope tied around my chest, tugging me on the right trail as I went. It was after this water tunnel that there came a room, circular, like the ones before. I took the knife from my belt, chipping a notch in the doorway where I entered. I ran my hand around the wall. There were sixteen arches, including my own.
"At that time, it felt like I had been in the tunnels for months upon months, and was sure that once I came back into the light my hair would be grey. Yet I also didn't feel hunger, and so I knew it was still the same day as I entered. Even with that, I couldn't wander for weeks down there without food and knew – just knew – that each of the false trails at this intersection would take me into another warren of dead ends in which I would not have the time to search. I only had one (maybe two if I was lucky and chose a shorter dead end) chance to get this right.
"So I chose a path. The third on my left to be exact. The scariest thing was the lack of reasoning I had for choosing it. It was only when I started hearing It that I knew I had chosen right – or this path intersected the correct path – and was nearing the end of the accursed maze.
"I first heard It breathing. In and out. In and out. In and out.
“Each sent a breeze echoing through the tunnels, leaving a slight whistle and howl. I knew I wouldn't find my way out again, having arrogantly forgotten to mark the earlier forks of the trail. It sounded like suicide, running towards a monster whose heavy breathing hinted towards an immense beast, but it was the only option I had. So I went, using my hands to follow the wall and my hair to measure the gusts of winds as they came.
"I then dimly saw something white ahead. The only difference in the perpetual blackness, I found a new energy and rushed forward. I remember being overcome with thinking of escape or how the light must be emanating from the mighty talisman I was searching for. Too late, plenty too late did I remember of the breathing noises that had lead me to this cavern. I had been following them for so long I had forgotten what they truly were, only that they were the way leading to the end.
"Now I will describe the cavern, for within the few seconds I glimpsed it the image had been burned into my eyes. A large crystal sat in the very center upon a raised bit of stone intricately carved into a dais. The rock was ragged, but enthralling and filled with an amazing beauty. A sliver of light started at the peak before travelling through the clear gemstone in a dazzling display, reflecting glittering patches throughout the cavern in a way my light-deprived eyes could hardly take in.
"But I did not have more than those precious seconds to gaze upon the stone, for with a raucous echo the monster came out of the shadows and into the light. I could not describe to you what the monster appeared as, for my mind could not piece together the flashes of fur and scales and gleaming ivory of claws and fangs. Even if I had saw it in better light, I doubt I could recall Its appearance, as though you must have seen it to rescue me, I do not believe the memory of It is in you either.
"I ran, then. There was nothing I could do. Just as I had found the larger exit tunnel at the other side, It caught up and sunk Its claws into my back, ravaging my legs as I tore free and leaving them as they were when you found me. Luckily It knew I wouldn't make it far, and I was able to slowly pull my way out with It following well behind. It knew I was dead, and It was in no rush to finish me off.
"That was when I made it outside, and when you came to my rescue," I finished.
Hawthorn commented on how lucky I had been, making it out of the tunnels at all. "It was no luck. I had made it because I needed to."
"For what?" he had asked.
"So that I could find you."
Hawthorn laughed, "Why did you need to find me?"
"So I could kill you."
"You didn't do it for the powers of the crystal?"
"There is no crystal. There is no powers. And there is no monster. I lied."
I wiped the blood from my knife in the grass beside me, smiling at the body of the dead man in front of me. I then stood up and started to run.
My injuries?
Yeah, I lied about that too.
“Help!” I screamed, panic crushing on my lungs. Coppery blood roared down the back of my throat as my voice cracked. My hands throbbed, scraped as they were from dragging myself through stone and snow. My legs were fire, ravaged, useless, and dripping blood. I didn’t take the moment to look back, but I knew a thick trail of red painted the pure snow crimson.
It was too much to hope for that someone would possibly hear my cries: the tales of the caverns were too fresh in everyone’s minds. Too wildly horrible for anyone to dare come near.
I couldn’t even hear my screeches anymore.
The pain redoubled as the adrenaline faded. Desperately I tried to pull it back, needing, needing its numbing balm and insatiable flames of energy that would be the only thing able to allow me to escape.
Frantically I pulled with my hands, digging into the snow and soil with senseless hands. I pulled and pulled, seeming to make slow progress. Another wave of panic pulled me under.
It has stopped, It doesn’t come in the sun… It.. It…
A crash erupted from behind me, a loud howl combined with an upheaval of the ground that sent my mangled body flying as the earth gave a massive ripple. My heart, already deprived of much blood, redoubled its pace as it tried to hammer out of my chest. My lungs refused to draw in air as the monster -- there is no other word to describe it but such -- emerged.
I couldn’t have run even if my legs were whole. All I could see were its eyes, large, green, ghastly.
Enthralling.
Painful. Harsh.
My arms collapsed, yet my head stayed at an awkward angle over my shoulder as I was forced to watch those eyes grow bigger and bigger.
A great fear pushed into my mind, a pulsing thing that overwhelmed my being. My mind sharpened. I wished I could close my eyes. I wished I could look away. I wished I could die, if only to get this over with.
But It approached Its prey slowly.
It wasn’t like I was going anywhere anytime soon.
----------------------------------------
I never asked how I came to live. I know I passed out, either from fear or lack of blood I assumed.
But that was after the fact.
I only remember times of dark and light, when my mind was free and floating. Like a bubble in the ocean, I would rise to consciousness before a wave crashed over me and I was driven back under. When I finally woke -- actually opened my eyes that is -- it only felt a couple days of this ethereal drifting. Yet Hawthorne told me it had been far over that time, almost a month in fact, and in my condition I was in no place to argue.
It was another couple days before I was able to move around, albeit clumsily, on my ‘fake legs’ crutches. I was weak to begin, but within days my arms grew strong from carrying my weight.
It wasn’t long until I realized I knew exactly where we were. Hawthorne lived in a small cabin right off Lake Mer. I came here often for boating and fishing. I wondered why I had never noticed the quaint home before, but I could not puzzle that out, even with my months of free time.
I found that Hawthorne was many things during my time resting in the cabin by the lake. He was an engineer, having personalized my crutches so that it was easy to move around without the ability to touch the ground. He was a healer, not quite a doctor… I couldn’t think of him as a doctor like the others. A healer, that’s what my mind labeled him as, for he healed me without modern instruments, better than any modern hospital could have done.
He calls himself an artist. Weaving stories and paints, twisting metal and wood and paper. He could take anything and make it beautiful, both purposeful and graceful and wonderous. Words were no barrier. I loved listening to his stories.
And now I'm rambling, as while knowing of my condition and of the person that took me in is vital to the tale, it is not the point I am trying to make. What did matter was what happened to me inside of the caverns, and that is what Hawthorn asked after the snow finally released its grip from the Lake.
"There's said to be a monster in the tunnel system all beneath the forest," I started, using the words I've heard many times in bedtime stories when I was young. It felt… right in this telling. At least to begin it, then would come my tale. "But there is also a treasure. Something so powerful one only needs to touch the item to acquire the gifts it contains. They say whoever can make it all the way in and out alive will become stronger than a lion, faster than a cheetah, more cunning than a tiger.
“There isn’t any light in the tunnels, and all I had were my feet and wits to guide me as I ventured further and further into the belly of the Earth. It was easy to navigate at first, with a hand on one wall, but soon I found my path broken by forks of two or three separate passages, or even larger circular rooms with many of openings. In one place, the ground dipped very low beneath my feet. It was here that the passage was flooded with water, and I had to swim through the utter blackness, only hoping that there was air on the other side.
“But it was if there were a rope tied around my chest, tugging me on the right trail as I went. It was after this water tunnel that there came a room, circular, like the ones before. I took the knife from my belt, chipping a notch in the doorway where I entered. I ran my hand around the wall. There were sixteen arches, including my own.
"At that time, it felt like I had been in the tunnels for months upon months, and was sure that once I came back into the light my hair would be grey. Yet I also didn't feel hunger, and so I knew it was still the same day as I entered. Even with that, I couldn't wander for weeks down there without food and knew – just knew – that each of the false trails at this intersection would take me into another warren of dead ends in which I would not have the time to search. I only had one (maybe two if I was lucky and chose a shorter dead end) chance to get this right.
"So I chose a path. The third on my left to be exact. The scariest thing was the lack of reasoning I had for choosing it. It was only when I started hearing It that I knew I had chosen right – or this path intersected the correct path – and was nearing the end of the accursed maze.
"I first heard It breathing. In and out. In and out. In and out.
“Each sent a breeze echoing through the tunnels, leaving a slight whistle and howl. I knew I wouldn't find my way out again, having arrogantly forgotten to mark the earlier forks of the trail. It sounded like suicide, running towards a monster whose heavy breathing hinted towards an immense beast, but it was the only option I had. So I went, using my hands to follow the wall and my hair to measure the gusts of winds as they came.
"I then dimly saw something white ahead. The only difference in the perpetual blackness, I found a new energy and rushed forward. I remember being overcome with thinking of escape or how the light must be emanating from the mighty talisman I was searching for. Too late, plenty too late did I remember of the breathing noises that had lead me to this cavern. I had been following them for so long I had forgotten what they truly were, only that they were the way leading to the end.
"Now I will describe the cavern, for within the few seconds I glimpsed it the image had been burned into my eyes. A large crystal sat in the very center upon a raised bit of stone intricately carved into a dais. The rock was ragged, but enthralling and filled with an amazing beauty. A sliver of light started at the peak before travelling through the clear gemstone in a dazzling display, reflecting glittering patches throughout the cavern in a way my light-deprived eyes could hardly take in.
"But I did not have more than those precious seconds to gaze upon the stone, for with a raucous echo the monster came out of the shadows and into the light. I could not describe to you what the monster appeared as, for my mind could not piece together the flashes of fur and scales and gleaming ivory of claws and fangs. Even if I had saw it in better light, I doubt I could recall Its appearance, as though you must have seen it to rescue me, I do not believe the memory of It is in you either.
"I ran, then. There was nothing I could do. Just as I had found the larger exit tunnel at the other side, It caught up and sunk Its claws into my back, ravaging my legs as I tore free and leaving them as they were when you found me. Luckily It knew I wouldn't make it far, and I was able to slowly pull my way out with It following well behind. It knew I was dead, and It was in no rush to finish me off.
"That was when I made it outside, and when you came to my rescue," I finished.
Hawthorn commented on how lucky I had been, making it out of the tunnels at all. "It was no luck. I had made it because I needed to."
"For what?" he had asked.
"So that I could find you."
Hawthorn laughed, "Why did you need to find me?"
"So I could kill you."
"You didn't do it for the powers of the crystal?"
"There is no crystal. There is no powers. And there is no monster. I lied."
I wiped the blood from my knife in the grass beside me, smiling at the body of the dead man in front of me. I then stood up and started to run.
My injuries?
Yeah, I lied about that too.
