|Come and Play
Author: BloodyJam PM
Francis knew... he knew that the monster before him was his reflection. For mirrors never lie, and there will always be a judgement when you die. May contain a hint of slash and some slight graphic imagery.Rated: Fiction M - English - Horror/Supernatural - Words: 1,870 - Published: 05-19-12 - Status: Complete - id: 3024010
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
So I wrote this for my English coursework this year. The theme was Gothic and Supernatural, and my mind came up with this. Originally, we were supposed to have influences from Dracula in here, but I managed to work my way around it. My teachers seemed to like it, and I'm quite proud of it.
There is also a monologue to go with it, which I'll post in a couple of days or so :')
Warning: Contains slight graphic imagery and teeny tiny hints of slash.
Francis sighed to himself as he moved deeper into the gloomy forest he was strolling through. He didn't have a clue where he was headed, nor did he care. He just needed to escape from reality to catch his thoughts for a while.
Francis was a troubled man. At 28 he had no wife or children. Women only bothered him with their consistent moaning and whims, and he detested children as much as one would detest the sight of decay. Bitter, stubborn and selfish, Francis only loved himself. Caring for the pathetic needs of others dragged him down. He had a reputation to uphold. Yet despite this, Francis was troubled. He was plagued with nightmares that petrified him to the icy core his being, spinning around like a broken record. Even though he told himself that these frightening visions meant nothing, and should be ignored, he couldn't help feeling like they were foretold warnings of upcoming danger.
The noise began when Francis was crossing a weak bridge. It started out a soft, gentle tap every couple of seconds, but gradually it got louder and rapid. Francis merely shrugged it off as a horse drawn carriage passing nearby. His pulse quickened and his blood ran cold, when the tapping was replaced with the sound of thundering footsteps slamming down onto the trail behind him. They were getting faster and faster, closer and closer.
Alarmed, Francis sped up, until he was engaged in a full sprint, now certain something was following him. He dared not look behind him. Through shrubbery, over fallen logs, crushing the delicate bodies of flowers, Francis ran. He ran as if his life depended on it.
The wind picked up and howls echoed eerily through the ancient forest. The air got misty and damp, mimicking his haunting dreams.
As he fled, he unknowingly left the path and began trudging through the murky undergrowth where many men, women and children alike had met their fate. Hundreds of stories about flesh eating humanoids floated about in this area, but at the time, Francis didn't want to think about those. The bushes diseased with thorns ripped his clothes and tore into his skin. The spiky devils whipped his face, forcing out a cry of torment.
The thumping behind him picked up speed, and Francis swore he could feel rasping breath stroke the back of his neck. Willing himself faster with a final cry, Francis launched himself into an enclosed pit, which he hoped would keep him safe from his chaser. However, the ignorant man did not see the steep hill he was destined to fall down.
He fell, like Alice as she fell into Wonderland. Rolling down the dangerous route, rocks and logs threw themselves at him, damaging his body. Finally, he reached flat ground. Groaning, he sat up, and a sharp pain erupted in his head. A shaky hand wiped the pained area, and when he looked, he wasn't surprised to see crimson liquid staining his fingers. He slipped into unconsciousness, wishing that he had never come out to the woods that day.
The first thing Francis noticed when he came to was that it was night-time. The next thing he noticed was how silent everything seemed. There were no owls hooting. No wolves howling to the visible full moon. No bats flying through the trees. No nothing.
Sudden movement shifted his attention to the foliage in front of him. Four, wide, emerald eyes stared out at him from the darkness. They were gazing at him like they had seen his soul. Not a minute later, the figures whose eyes glowed emerged from the shadows and Francis gawped in shock. 'Children? What on Earth would children be doing here?' he thought to himself as the children… twins to be exact smirked at him.
They looked odd. Like something was missing. Their eyes didn't show any emotion and their porcelain skin was so pale it looked like moonlight. They had delicate, doll like features, with short red hair, and both seemed to be wearing ripped, faded clown costumes. The shorter of the two let go of his brother's hand and skipped over to Francis.
"Hey Mister, you fell down that hill there, huh?" the small child asked, curiosity sparking in his young face, as he poked Francis' arm on a sore spot. With an animalistic snarl of anger, Francis slapped the frail hand away from him and glared murderously. The other twin hurried to his brother and pulled him away, whispering something in his ear, which made his doppelganger giggle enthusiastically.
Curiosity and suspicion flared up in Francis as both boys turned to face him with mischief painted onto their faces. "You wanna know the way outta here, don't you?" the taller twin asked moodily. Francis glared at the twins, denying that he needed help.
"We can help you Sir!" the smaller proclaimed, twirling around gracefully.
"No! I don't need your help! I can find my own way out," Francis snapped, shakily getting to his feet. The twins' eyes glowed brighter, shining yellow before they resumed to staring at Francis.
"But Sir! Haven't you heard of all the monsters that feast upon humans? You'll surely die!" Exclaimed the wide eyed child.
Francis opened his mouth, enraged at these vagabonds. He wanted to roar out his annoyance at these children, but something stopped him, forcing words into his mouth, making him agree with the child. He couldn't say no. Something had a hold of his tongue. A hold of his mind. His voice.
Moving his feet, he followed the gleeful children deeper into the forest. He dared not ask where he was going; he didn't think he could.
Before long, the children led him to a large manor house located in a small clearing. "Here, we'll be safe 'till morning," the taller twin mumbled.
Obediently, Francis followed them in. It looked like a normal manor house, smaller than the one he lived in. Everything inside was normal. But something was amiss. Something felt wrong. Out of place. There were no signs of life. No Lords, butlers, maids or any type of servant.
Breaking out of his daze, Francis felt himself being pushed into a wooden chair in a small dark room. "We want to play a game, Sir!" the merry child declared, as the other picked up rope and cloth from the floor.
"W… what?" Francis struggled out, feeling insecure and vulnerable
"It's a fun game. We just need to make sure you don't cheat," the nameless one giggled. He clapped as his brother tied Francis to the chair.
"Don't peek or you'll lose the game!" the child sang as the cloth was placed over Francis' eyes, painting his world black.
Francis sat, blind and stationary for what seemed like hours. However, time is a tricky concept that bewilders the brain, so it could have been a mere 2 minutes, Francis couldn't say. Suddenly, a shrill screech filled the house, startling Francis and making his heart thump.
Crashes, whines and shouts echoed all around him. Whispers danced in the air, groans emerged from the floorboards and whispers tickled his neck. In a desperate attempt to escape, Francis began pulling his hands against the rope to set them free. Triumph and hope flew through him as the rope snapped and his fingers travelled to his face and scrambled at the blindfold obstructing his vision.
Yet when he tore it off, the once dim room had transformed into what looked like the scene of a homicidal spree. Blood was everywhere. On everything. Splattered up walls, flowing over the table. It was a bloodbath. A depictured image of hell.
Before he could scream, a blunt object was slammed against the back of his head, knocking him into unconsciousness once more.
He was groggy when he opened his heterochromia iridum eyes. Horror blazed through him as he realised his hands were again bound. A sob attempted to erupt from his mouth and tears gathered in his eyes, but something was preventing them. He tried to scream blue murder, but to no avail. His mouth wouldn't open. Wearily, he lifted his head and came face to face with what had been haunting his dreams for the last week.
It was a man. No, not quite a man. It was a monster. Blood ran from its eyes and its limbs were hacked open. Its mouth was stitched closed and sliced up to its ear, creating an internal grin. Its legs were attached to long stilts and its eyes were wide. It looked petrified. Its eyes reached out as another tear fell.
Giggling sounded from the caliginosity around the room, followed by a loud chuckle. Francis whipped his head from side to side, but was unable to see anything. The monster was mimicking him.
Like a mirror reflection.
His heart sank as the manic laughter flared up again. Francis bowed his head, accepting his fate as this deformed being. He knew. He knew the monster before him was his reflection. How many times had he seen it in his sleep? He knew those eyes. One blue and the other green, they were uncommon. There was no mistake, those were his eyes. This monster… was he. He knew there was no escape. Not now. He began regretting the way he lived his life, if only he was civil to people, instead of turning his nose up at them. Maybe if he had lived his life the way he was supposed to, he wouldn't be stuck in this predicament, grieving lives he could have saved. The darkness suffocated him and in all his life, he had never felt so alone.
A hooded figure stepped in front of Francis' deformed body, and pulled out a curved knife. From the shadows of its hood, the being sneered, showing off its shark like teeth. The figure stroked Francis' face with the blade tenderly. Sweat dripped down Francis' face and bile rose in his body, as the thing bent down, their faces too close. Its breath stunk of decay, and Francis fought back a gag as it licked the liquid dripping down his face. He couldn't scream as the knife dug into other parts of his body. He couldn't scream when four hands violently shoved him off the chair.
He braced himself for impact, but none came. He couldn't see the floor. Was this hell? Had his lifestyle damned his soul?
The falling never stopped. It went on…
Hope you like it! And reviews would be much loved! :3