Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-9592747-20150422130110

It's been quite a while since I wrote a horror or spooky stories, so my skills, if I had any to begin with, are kind of rusty. So, I'd be delighted if you expressed your criticisms and opinions about this little piece I've been working on. Thanks!



A cold breeze slips through the neighborhood, the full moon blights the streets with its ominous light, sharpening the moving shadows. The calm, quiet and almost dead atmosphere is interrupted by police sirens. The place becomes a crime scene. A house has been broken into. Shattered pieces of glass shines and reflects the moonlight on the bloody floor. The officers who enter the house find themselves disgusted and confused – this wasn't a mugging or a murder of any kind that they found. It was a ritual.



Weird mumbling sounds come from the center of the room and a silhouette of a man emerges in the dim moonlight. Finally, the officer's flashlight reveals the picture – a man shakes from fear on the ground. As the ambulance is called one of the officers tries to communicate to the man: he asks if the victim is injured – no verbal response. He tries to flash his light towards the man's face – still nothing. The officer approached the injured man. As soon as his hand touched the shaking body, the man sprung into life and started running away. He tries to scream but unsuccessfully. The running suddenly stops as he bumps into the wall – he drops on the ground and starts crawling, desperately brushing his hands against the blood stained wall. Like a frail creature he cowers into a corner. The only sound coming from him is sniffs and moans.



The officer once again tries to approach him. This time his touch calms the victim. The guard is down and the quick breeze of serenity knocks the man unconscious. Hands are no longer hiding the face and what is revealed leaves the officer horrified – poor man is disfigured beyond recognition. The sensory organs have been removed and the mouth hole has been melted shut, rendering the victim deaf, blind and mute. What was striking as much was the machine like accuracy in which the disgusting procedure was done. A cold and calculated precision of such heinous act left the officer to not only question what kind of person could do such a thing, but also his own sanity.



As the victim is removed from the crime scene, investigators flock the house. However after hours and hours of investigation the only thing found, that may help investigators in any way, is a small metal box, which contains a photo of a young woman, holding a small child. As it is later revealed, the victim of this crime, Nathan Perks was in a marriage for 4 years. The woman in the photo was his wife Sofia, holding their daughter Eve. About two years ago the marriage ended as the wife's and the child's life suddenly ended in a horrible car accident. After that, the man became noticeably less social, his employers noticing more and more instances of careless behavior, but obviously they didn't want to intervene as they knew that the man was still suffering a great loss, at least for a little while. There was, however, a time of serenity observed about 4 months after the accident, which lasted until about a week ago. On that day the man was fired, with the reports of: “Complete lack of care for fellow employees, inability to cooperate and strong indication of mental instability.” Examples indicated man's loss of orientation in time, claiming that his daughter and wife were still alive, that they're waiting for him at the house. Further investigation of the steel box revealed a few crumple letters. Five entries and the dates are arranged in the following order:



The first entry, date: 4 months after the car crash, read like this:

“Frank recommended me to write my thoughts in this diary, said it was easier to deal with the loss. The medications he prescribed to me seems to make my nerves calm. Seems like sleepless nights are over. For that I'm grateful. He asked me to remove every photo of Sofia and… my daughter until I get better, I wasn't too fond of the idea, but I think he knows what's best for me, so I'll do that today. Oh, by the way, I decided to go and meet up with Tom. God, it was ages since I last saw him. I think, this means that I finally can move on… Hopefully. Nothing else to write though.”



The second entry, date: about a year and a half after the car crash:

“What it's been, almost a year since I moved on? I think, I finally can start over, you know, like mentally. I've been off the medication for a week now. And guess what, I started remembering my dreams again. The one from yesterday was pretty vivid. I saw… I saw Sofia, smiling at me. In the dream she said that she was… Happy for me, happy for the fact that I didn't break, that I moved on. Strange thing, I can't seem to remember her face from my memories, if you, for instance, asked me right now what she looked like, I couldn't tell you, but I swear, her face was so clear in that dream… Frank's saying I shouldn't be too hung up on those things.”



<p style="margin-top:0.357142857142857em;margin-bottom:0.357142857142857em;line-height:1.42857142857143em;color:rgb(255,255,255);font-family:verdana,arial,helvetica,sans-serif;">Third entry, date: a month before today's events:

<p style="margin-top:0.357142857142857em;margin-bottom:0.357142857142857em;line-height:1.42857142857143em;color:rgb(255,255,255);font-family:verdana,arial,helvetica,sans-serif;">“Frank tells me that I should get back to my medications, he says I'm unstable, but what the fuck does he know? He says I'm starting to see things again, telling him about some obscure trios in my hypnosis therapy sessions, that I don't look like I slept well. There were some nightmares sure, but who doesn't have one of those once in a while. Either the case, it's a full moon, and I don't sleep well on those anyway. Sofia is there for me, she said she may calm my nerves later on in the evening, if you know what I mean.. However, she was bit uneasy yesterday, she kept asking me why did I remove all of her photos from the house and I said I could do a few today, but she insisted that I brought the old ones back. God, it's only been like 2 years since we made those photos, is she afraid of a few new wrinkles on her face? She still looks beautiful to me, but I digress. It's been bit difficult to find the photos, I only managed to find one, and it was an obscure one. Sofia was not pleased. She says our daughter is barely noticeable in there. She started blaming Frank for hiding the photos, she went on a rant of how bad of a friend he's been to us. And I got to agree – Frank is sometimes full of shit. How the hell did he get that doctor's degree anyway?”

<p style="margin-top:0.357142857142857em;margin-bottom:0.357142857142857em;line-height:1.42857142857143em;color:rgb(255,255,255);font-family:verdana,arial,helvetica,sans-serif;">

<p style="margin-top:0.357142857142857em;margin-bottom:0.357142857142857em;line-height:1.42857142857143em;color:rgb(255,255,255);font-family:verdana,arial,helvetica,sans-serif;">Fourth entry, date: a week before today's events:

<p style="margin-top:0.357142857142857em;margin-bottom:0.357142857142857em;line-height:1.42857142857143em;color:rgb(255,255,255);font-family:verdana,arial,helvetica,sans-serif;">“Frank, that backstabbing cunt! I know it was he who told those things about me to my boss! And that son of a bitch bought it! Now I'm unemployed! They say I'm fucking unstable, that I can't tell past from the present. But it is they who can't see jack shit! Yesterday, Frank tried to trick me into believing that Sofia and Eve are the fickle of my imagination, showing me a video, where I'm all alone, looking at nothing, talking to nothing. He says medication is very important, especially at times like these. He tops it all off, by saying I still can't get over the fact that she's dead, that I barely talk about it. About how my wife and daughter died in a car accident What the fuck is he talking about? I mean, they're alive for God's sake! They are home, waiting for me! After I got back home and told that to Sofia, she became furious. She says Frank is jealous, that he doesn't want me to be happy. Makes sense, that rusty old shit is still alone, says he doesn't have time for committed relationship, but I know better. Sofia tells me that we should leave this place, leave Frank and this God forsaken city in the past. She tells me she loves me above anything else and I'm feeling the same. And Eve… Eve is my morning light. I agree, it's time to leave this shit hole to rot. After we made the choice, Sofia tells me, she knows these three men, that will help us to prepare our leave. Said they should be here a week from now. For some reason I'm anxious to meet them.”

<p style="margin-top:0.357142857142857em;margin-bottom:0.357142857142857em;line-height:1.42857142857143em;color:rgb(255,255,255);font-family:verdana,arial,helvetica,sans-serif;">

<p style="margin-top:0.357142857142857em;margin-bottom:0.357142857142857em;line-height:1.42857142857143em;color:rgb(255,255,255);font-family:verdana,arial,helvetica,sans-serif;">Final entry, date: Today:

<p style="margin-top:0.357142857142857em;margin-bottom:0.357142857142857em;line-height:1.42857142857143em;color:rgb(255,255,255);font-family:verdana,arial,helvetica,sans-serif;">“Ignoring the calls from Frank. Saw him snooping around the house today. Sleazy old shit… Why he just doesn't leave me alone? Tonight's the night we leave, but Sofia seems to be very nervous for some reason. And then suddenly out of fucking nowhere she starts to scream and rant and cry, she says to me, that she's sorry, that she didn't want to end this way, that she doesn't love me anymore, that she wants to take Eve and outright leave me. Why would she say that to me? After that she says that she's dead because of me, that her daughter is dead, because of me. She starts to laugh at me, calling me a pathetic piece of slime, who hits women, who hit his own daughter. The grin on her face became wider as she tells me how the car accident mutilated her, mutilated my daughter, how torn pieces of their dead bodies burned to a crisp in a raging fire. All I could think at the moment was those horrific images, I crumbled in the corner and started crying, screaming that she's wrong. Sofia takes her things and takes my daughter. She says she's leaving. She takes the car keys. Before she leaves she says to me that there's no coming back from this and that this will haunt me till my dying breath, that past mistakes are my life now. She slams the door. That's the last I'll ever see of her or my daughter...

<p style="margin-top:0.357142857142857em;margin-bottom:0.357142857142857em;line-height:1.42857142857143em;color:rgb(255,255,255);font-family:verdana,arial,helvetica,sans-serif;">

<p style="margin-top:0.357142857142857em;margin-bottom:0.357142857142857em;line-height:1.42857142857143em;color:rgb(255,255,255);font-family:verdana,arial,helvetica,sans-serif;">As I finish writing this, three obscure figures enter my house…”

<p style="margin-top:0.357142857142857em;margin-bottom:0.357142857142857em;line-height:1.42857142857143em;color:rgb(255,255,255);font-family:verdana,arial,helvetica,sans-serif;">As the investigators take the last diary entry, behind it there's an obscure piece of paper at the bottom of the steel box. There's only one sentence here. It reads: “You think there's an escape from this? There's no escape from this!”

<p style="margin-top:0.357142857142857em;margin-bottom:0.357142857142857em;line-height:1.42857142857143em;color:rgb(255,255,255);font-family:verdana,arial,helvetica,sans-serif;">

<p style="margin-top:0.357142857142857em;margin-bottom:0px;line-height:1.42857142857143em;color:rgb(255,255,255);font-family:verdana,arial,helvetica,sans-serif;">Few days after the events that scared Nathan forever, he wakes up in a hospital room. He leaves the bed and walks until he stumbles upon the wall. He starts to scratch the surface of the white painted plaster. His nails soon break and the blood from his finger tips starts to paint the surface. However, the scratching noise is not heard. No one is entering the room. Nobody knows he's awake. His painful scratching stops, as he crumbles down on the ground. A cold breeze slips through the slightly opened window, the full moon blights the room with its ominous light, sharpening the man's shadow as he is lying dead on the floor. The dim moonshine lightens a crude bloody writing on the wall as it reveals his last words: “Past is my reality now...” <ac_metadata title="Three Passengers [Needs Review!]" related_topics="Mind Tricks|Insanity"> </ac_metadata>