Imagine Tales

There was a gentle sound as the tear drop splashed against the wood. Whilst she laid there upon the floor, she could see her foot gently tapping, the sole of her red stained shoe against the exposed floorboards with an unnerving thump, thump, thump. She could feel the impact resonating through the wood as her left ear was pressed to the floor. A small stone caused slight discomfort against her lobe, but she could not move her head. She had nothing left now, only the hunger that always plagued her. Her last hope, her last grasp to life was gone, a final act by the one she loved told it all to her. As she let her last grip on humanity fall, she could feel the urge to feast and gorge herself fill her soul, she want to tear, rip, gouge and swallow it all. The drumming of her foot becoming more and more intense as the hunger filled her senses until she could not hold back anymore. Her mouth opened wide baring her teeth.

…

She had watched her go past her home for many months now, never able to approach her, never able to ask her out for a drink. She gazed across the road to where her love worked in the small cake shop. Faint wafts of baking would travel on the gentle breeze in the summer when the door was left open. When the light was right, she could see in through the window at the front of the little shop. She would watch her serve customers, smile and laugh. Once she had watched her cry after a visit from a police officer. She had not come to work for many days after, and when she did finally return, her step was slower and her smile gone. The cake lady would often stare out of the window and across the road, always with a sad expression of mourning, a sense of loss. It was during these times her feelings for this once happy cake lady intensified. She wanted to reach out to her, hold her, kiss her, make her smile again. But still she never approached her cake lady, she hid in her home, behind the walls, behind the old oak tree, never leaving, even when the gate was open by day.

She had stayed in this place for over a year now, long enough for her to call it home. It was dangerous outside, and even when her stomach ached with hunger, she stayed hidden from the outside world. During daylight when she was not watching her love, she stayed in the darkness, hidden inside. At night she would allow herself to wander upon the grass and beneath the trees in the grounds of her home. She would imagine them together, hand in hand, as they walked the paths between the stones. Some nights she would become violent and smash herself again the walls, both physical and mental, fighting the hunger when she had the strength to.

She held on to her humanity the best she could, but temptation sometimes strayed inside the old brick walls. Young couples on a midnight stroll seeking a scare to make them hold each other closer, drunks looking for a quiet place to drink and sleep and then others who came to embrace the solitude that this place brought as they could or would not go home. Not even she could hold back then, and afterwards, when the hunger briefly died away, she would be left tormented, unable to face what she had done and what she really was. Once the police came, when she had left her meal in the open after being disturbed. It was then they had spoken to her beloved cake lady, as well as searched her own home, but this place was old with many secret places to hide and after a few days the police had gone, no wiser to her existence.

Part 1 | Part 2

His scream was muffled as an abrasive hand clasped across his mouth, toxic hairs like needles dug into his skin and lips, irritating, piercing flesh and gums. Pin pricks in his flesh let blood flow into the bath water as the pressure of the hand increased. He involuntarily inhaled, breathing hundreds of tiny irritant hairs into his throat, nose and lungs. His internal organs reacted in ferocious defence against the foreign elements that had entered their domain. The increasing pain began to overwhelm him, his breaths became panicked as his body tried to gag on his own bile, mucus and blood. The face of the monster moved closer to Darren’s own face, which still struggled with its fight against the paralysis that sat in his muscles like black glutinous tar beneath his skin. Darren rasped in desperation, his eyes staring at the looming face that drew closer and closer to him. Eye sockets that had been grown over by the dishevelled skin of the demon seemed to peer deep in Darren’s eyes. Whilst it had no eyes to see, Darren could feel the penetrating presence burrow deep into his own eyes and ripping his soul in an organised but savage search for his past, as random events of his life rose and fell in his mind. Fetid breath exhaled from the monster’s repulsive mouth. The cavity was long and drawn out vertically, the bottom of the rough lips flowing out into separate limbs each with a single curved claw glistening as they moved around the cavity, cleaning and preparing. The reminiscence of his past increased in momentum. Unable to cope with the bedlam, his mind began to adulterate the memories and the vision that towered before him. The monster no longer stood over him, his mother was holding him down, her mouth opening in a sickening movement and clawed limbs ripped out tearing her face into a deformed manic grin. Blood fell like a waterfall from the coarse wounds, pouring over Darren’s chest and spilling into the already pink water, turning it a deep red. Black congealed lumps fell from his mothers face, each linked by umbilical-like cords. The lumps that hit his bare chest exploded, releasing dark clotted fluids that burned into his flesh. Skin fell away from his ribcage, sliding into the bathwater. Muscle followed and bone began to dissolve, the residue dripping onto his lungs and heart. Darren fought for breath as his lungs deflated and dissolved into the flesh soup bathwater. Finally this butchered vision of his mother pushed him in, down into the vile substance and a final resolve.

Darren looked at the tinfoil that his friend offered him along with the make-shift pipe to inhale the smoke with. He had never tried heroin before and was unsure of it now. Part of him wanted to find out the hit, another part told him where it would lead. As he stared at the tinfoil, he caught a reflection in part of the foil of a dark figure in a brimmed hat. He turned around only to see nothing there, breathing heavily with paranoia of potential actions.

“You want it or what?” said a voice.

The End

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

The figure stood tall, the tip of its fedora hat only just missing the moist ceiling as it approached the bath. It moved without step, gliding with an unnerving slithering across the black and white chequered floor, its legs hidden by the long, heavily stained trench coat. The collar of the coat was pulled up, hiding the visitor’s facial features, all that showed were the eyes, black and abyss-like. They reflected the image of Darren, his naked scrawny body partly submerged in the bath water. As the figure moved closer towards Darren’s still body, the reflection that viewed like a movie in an empty movie theatre pulled in closer to Darren’s upper torso and his head. As Darren’s eyes came into focus, his dilated pupils moved to look directly at the intruder that now stood over him. The waterfall that his drugged mind had perceived shrank suddenly, dragging Darren back to the surface, back to his reality.

Darren’s brain screamed inside his skull, but that was as far as the scream got. His senses exploded with repulsion, the smell wanted to make him vomit, the sickly presence that invaded his personal space made his skin crawl. But he could not react, no muscle operated, no limb moved and no sound came out. Only his eyes could move and all he could see was the horror that stood over him. As he laid in the now suddenly cold bath, naked and prone, all he could do was stare at the figure above him. His internal dialogue begging for his life, knowing it made no difference as whatever stood over him could not hear his pleas. The figure just stood and stared at the pitiful man below him and did not move. Under the trench coat, things slithered and moved, making strange bulges across the visitor’s chest and back. Darren’s mind tried to reason with itself, the rational part saying that his enemies had finally found him and his life would end soon, very soon. But then the part of his mind that told him to fear the dark screamed out at him and took control. This was not human, not even earthly, this was his demon that had come for him. His deeds, his sins were now to be accounted for. He had destroyed his life and all those who had given a damn about him. Through his addiction he had condemned himself, not just to death, to Hell. The drugs… “Wait” his thoughts told him, It’s a hallucination, just a hallucination. His face twitched into a manic smile with the realisation. In the maelstrom of his mind, Darren suddenly felt like he had hit the eye of a storm and peace descended over him. His thoughts moved with ease and took only moments for long thoughts to process. His suddenly clear head analysed the figure above him, he could see it now, his mind understood the horror that affronted him with a sense of calm. Even though his mind took in and understood the horror, his thoughts acted like he was casually sight-seeing. Slowly the figure raised an arm over Darren, extending gangling fingers. As the figure moved the collars of trench coat fell away revealing the face that was hidden beneath. Darren screamed.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5