A/N: This was a school assignment, for Frankenstein, and I thought I would post it. We had to write scary stories. It was fun to write, so I hope you like it!!!
Mei thought it was a normal Halloween. A Halloween when she could hang out with her friends and laugh. When she could eat so much candy she would get sick, and dress in frightening costumes. In short, Halloween was Mei's favorite time of year.
She hadn't seen a costume yet this year that gave her that special chill, and made her heart nearly stop in fear. She had not experienced the true thrill of Halloween. This fact depressed her even as she laughed with her friends. Soon she was completely detached from the rest of the world, only wallowing in her own sorrow. And not long after that, she was lost.
She found herself in front of a graveyard, overgrown and unsightly. A rank rotting smell drifted to her nostrils, causing her nose to wrinkle in disgust. No one was around, and it was as silent as the Death that resided inside.
"Where am I?" She called out to no one in particular. But the echoes of her own voice seemed to answer, "Nowhere".
Mei responded to the eerie voice, "Where is nowhere?" No reply came. She tried again. Nothing but the faint call of her own voice bouncing back from the many rotting tombstones replied, with a repetition of, "Where is nowhere?" By now she was beginning to get scared.
Somewhere, a raven cawed, breaking the silence. In her surprise, Mei jumped slightly. But this jump was her complete undoing. The echo of her feet thudding on the pebbles bounced through the graveyard, growing louder and louder. All sorts of animals cried out, and in the midst of these calls, there was a low humming.
It was a woman's voice, and the tune was a sad hymn. All sound, except the humming, dropped away as if on queue. The low sound grew louder gradually until it became one long tone.
Eyes peered from the darkness. They were human—almost. They were red as rubies, but with a darkness swirling in their depths. Mei gasped as a woman stepped from the shadows. She was clothed in pitch black witch's garments. As a contrast to her dark clothes, her skin was ivory white; her hair was a flowing silver coloration. The only true color on her was her blood red eyes and lips.
She made no sound, not now. But she raised her arm in a silent motion and pointed right at Mei. And them she vanished. Mei was shaking. The violent tremors took over her legs, and she collapsed. Everything went black as a starless night sky.
When she awoke, it was still dark. The moon shone down eerily at her, a pale reflection of the sun's comforting light. Shadows danced around the trees, forming images of ghouls and ghosts. Her feet seemed to wind in between faded tombstones on their own accord. Soon Mei was deep into the cemetery, hopelessly lost.
A mansion loomed above her, old and rickety. A small shed, door unhinged, sat, lonesome in the backyard. As she drew nearer, she felt like she could see shadows pouring out of its open door. A chill ran down her spine, but nonetheless she pushed forward into the house.
The floorboards creaked as she stepped through the door; bats fluttered in the shadows. Every step forward threatened to break through the age worn wood. Mei wandered through doorway after doorway, until she came upon a quiet library.
The walls were covered with books of all colors and sizes, but only one drew Mei in. It was huge, blood red, and open. It nested on a Gothic style table, its pages yellowed with age.
As she slowly stepped towards the book, she could see writing. And when she was standing right in front of it, she could read it. It was fancy handwriting, in crimson ink. It was a long list of names. And there was hers, dark red and freshly written.
Mei gasped and took a step backwards, her foot falling through a plank of wood. She pulled it back up into the room; blood ran down her skin. But she barely felt the pain, her body tuned in on the emotion of horror. She was overwhelmed with the repulsion of her name being written in this book. She slipped through the crisp pages. It was all names, listed for whatever reason. They appeared to be in no particular order. Occasionally, she noticed, there was a year scrawled at the top if a page, and the closer to the front of the book she got, they became fewer and far between.
When she reached the front the cover page simply had one word: Victims. Mei stepped back dropping the book to the ground, and ran. She ran for her life, out into the moonlit night, dodging grave markers and trees, until she came upon a dead end. She immediately turned around, and tried again. But she had no luck. Every time she tried, she only found another dead end. Eventually, after hours of running, Mei was exhausted. And it was still night, there was no light over the horizon, and the moon was still high in the sky.
She lay on the cemetery ground, silently watching the sky. The shadows moved and slithered around her, until they enveloped her. She tried to scream, but no sound came out. Under the blanket of shadow, things were different. Badgers lumbered in and out of their sets; chipmunks skittered and scurried, gathering nuts for winter; birds nested in bundles of twigs. But something was unnatural about these animals: they weren't startled by her presence.
She reached out to touch a chipmunk, but her hand passed through. It was as if it didn't exist, as if it were a shadow animal, a spirit. She sat on a fallen tree, watching the busy animals. After a bit, perhaps ten minutes, all of the animals dropped to the ground. Blood seeped into the earth, and noise erupted into the air, cries of pain and suffering. Then, all at once, the animals grew silent. Their eyes glazed over, and their breathing stopped. They were dead, and the lifeless bodies stared up at Mei, seemingly blaming her.
She tried to scream, her vocal cords fighting in some invisible fight, losing. No sooner had she faux-screamed than the animals rose and began their faithful duties again. Mei ran, this time, she was fighting her own fatigue and soon tripped and fell into a hole. On one side, the ditch continued on into a long tunnel. A dim light came from her left—the tunnel, while darkness came from her right. She got to her feet, her head scraping the low dirt ceiling, and wandered towards the light. Screams echoed throughout the small passageway, their sources unknown. The voices they rode on were of all kinds, low and high, male and female, adult and child. They almost seemed to come from the very walls that surrounded her.
At the end, a small room, carved from dirt curved above her. Its ceiling was arched, and a dim lantern hung from the center. The light reflected off of skeletons embedded in the filthy walls. A slow trickle of water came from the corner, where another passage branched off.
And there stood the witch. Her eyes still glowed; her skin was still pale and unnaturally white. She carried nothing, yet she seemed more deadly than the most lethal killer. She said nothing, yet she had already said enough. She had not given any forewarning, but Mei already knew she would be there. And she knew the reason. The witch was there to kill her.
She tried to scream again. This time, sound came out in a bloodcurdling howl of terror. The witch raised her arm, and blood poured from Mei's stomach. Her fist clenched, and a burn spread through her abdomen. The mystical wound had pierced her stomach, freeing her stomach acid, which burnt her organs. If the pain could have killed her, she would have died one thousand times over. But she was dying slowly, and her screams echoed down the corridor.
Mei died that night, like many before her, and many after. Her skeleton became one of the many to adorn the walls of that cavern, and her screams mingle still with the cries of past victims as she relives her death every hour of every day for the rest of eternity.