Jennifer treasured her younger brother dearly and had never spent more than a day without him, not since the little bundle of wrinkled skin came into her life. In time - just as many children do - her mind, reasoning and intellect began to develop and nurture. Little by little she learned and grew to respect her sweet, infantile sibling more and more with all her heart. Now she was alone in this despicable, gruesome, dust strewn hell-hole of a room. The armchair she was thrown into was huge and brown. A dirty brown, the kind of colour falling leaves tend to get after being trodden relentlessly into wet, sodden earth by a myriad of hard, heavy feet. The chair felt firm but was lacking in comfort. She glanced down at the arms, they were tatty and faded. Dull caramel tinted foam poked through irregular, jagged tears like some small innocent baby rabbit emerging cautiously from its burrow. There was only the chair she was sitting on - and one walnut, coffee-stained table with the obligatory broken leg - in the room with her. Damp, putrid walls thick with damp and dark insipid mould seemed to smile at her as it meandered its way up towards the ceiling. Two windows on the far wall, both bare - wore an inch thick oily blanket of city dirt and grime and bore huge rusty bars that seemed to prevent any notion of escape. She looked towards the door - four inch thick steel, with a twenty one inch square window resting snugly above the woodworm ridden serving hatch - and thought of her parents. Nestled between her and the windows was a half knitted blue sweater complete with two huge knitting needles, made of pure (although she couldn’t be sure) white plastic. She wondered if someone had dropped them or rather carelessly tossed them there. She glanced around, cold white stone tiles, an occasional cracked one here and there, some deep black with dirt and a lone cockroach scurrying noisily across the cracks greeted her eyes from below.

                She didn’t scare easily, but the thought of never laying eyes upon her dear brother once again did serve to scare her witless. All other thoughts were futile and fleeting within herself as the thought of her brother took lead stage.

                The sound of slow, thudding footsteps began to echo eerily through the cold, still corridor beyond the door. Step by step they grew in stride and volume, louder, faster, louder faster until unexpectedly they ceased yards from Jennifer’s room. A strident but confident voice barked profanities from beyond the walls and Aaron’s wailing suddenly ceased. Jennifer cried out with heart searing rage.

                “Stop it you monster, leave him alone.”

                The sudden smack of the dull, heavyset steel door as it flew open a full one eighty degrees and clattered violently against the inside wall caused her to catch a silent, shivering breath. Outside the was dark, silent and cool as still surreal air rushed in, along with a pungent, damp stale kind of aroma. She likened it to a damp dog subtly entwined with the most insidious whiff of sticky, human sweat. For what seemed like forever she stared at the corridor beyond until a dark, lonesome form came into view.

                It hung in the doorway.

                Her frail heart skipped a dozen or so beats, continued rapidly then misplaced a few more. She closed her eyes, opened them again, it was still there! Engulfed with fear she tried to scream…nothing.

                It still hung there…

                Without warning it floated in through the doorway like a huge thundercloud ready to unleash its full torrent of anger on anyone who encountered it. What she could only describe as eyes seemed to penetrate her, go right through her, two huge red glowing eyes that seemed to shine in the darkest recess of this surreal black form. She tried to scream again, nothing came out, tried to move…nothing. Paralysed and helpless, tears now running relentlessly down her face, she struggled for air. The fear now taking hold of her was excruciating. She felt pain inside her head, immense pain and confusion all at once. Inside she was screaming…screaming for her life, her brother, her parents...her sanity.

                The figure began to swirl like thick acrid smoke. Her eyes straining, her head thumping she began to notice the shifting, the seemingly effortless melding. Melding of man, beast, fire, darkness and malovelence. The form continued to meld, to move, swell and drift into a more solid mass, a more solid form. Still she sat there transfixed with fear. The figure slowly changing, transforming. Then she got it...human, a Human shape!

                She shrieked to herself. Her lips began to tremble as the realisation that the dark creature was turning into what she could only describe as some kind of human form began to snap her senses like a puny, brittle twig.

                Her dread intensified and was closely followed by the sudden knowledge that she may never see mummy again. May never hear her soothing voice again or have mummys loving arms around her. This was the pinnacle of terror, the heart wrenching agony above everything else that seemed to smash into you…hard.  She tried to scream again but her aching silent voice just crackled, like when trying to find a distant radio station in the middle of nowhere. Her mouth felt dry as it crackled again, no distinguishable sounds emanating from it, but still she tried...and tried. Even in our darkest hour we usually find the strength to go on, the strength to overcome. Today was not that day though; Here right now a little girl was all alone in the middle of hell, in amidst the bowels of the earth and in complete turmoil with her own feelings of terror. Moonlight shining through the window seemed to strangely illuminate this thing from deep within the abyss of forever. Murky light continued to seep into the room as the dark form - its final transformation at an end - drifted further towards her…

                Her voice swiftly returned and she let loose one final scream.

                She knew now, the sudden rush, the heart stopping dead…she knew the shape…

 

…it’s 

 

 * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Want to know what the shape is - then you can find out as this and other stories 

will be available in my second book of short stories...

coming soon

 

STAY TUNED...THERE'S DEFINITELY MORE.

AND BELIEVE ME THEY GET DARKER AND DARKER AND....WELL WAIT AND SEE.

 

OH ONE LAST THING

NEVER USE AN OUIJA BOARD!

NOT UNLESS YOU WANT MY STORIES TO BE REAL...DO YOU?

 

 

Ciao

C

 

 

 

All characters contained in these tales are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.