His eyes, his eyes could not stop staring at the girl’s face. The way her pretty face was contorted in sheer terror, her reasoning gone as she threw herself at the door again and again, her head smashing against the reinforced glass, already cracked; now even more so.  The high sun silhouetted the girl, a darkness that bled. The red left behind on the wire-crossed window became  deeper with each impact. As she moved back to run at the door again, the light of the sun projected the colour of her blood across the boy’s face, masking him with her terror that seeped into his retinas. Electrical pulses carried the terror to his brain, overloaded synaptic terror found his reasoning, and a second later he ran as he heard the final impact and something solid finally broke. He was pretty sure it was not the window or the door.

His heart was pumping fast now as he tried to leap up the stairs, as many as he could at a time.- all he knew is that he had to get away from it. His foot slipped on the edge of the step as he reached the corner and gravity took care of the rest: his shins and knees hit the stone edges, sending pain through his body. The boy screamed in pain, and he was almost thankful for the moment of distraction, but it was only a moment. He looked up as he pushed his hands down to bring his body up and carry on up the stairs. In the corner of the stairwell turn was a wicker chair, on which sat a clown doll. It was a large toy, taking up the entire seat, its white face and red suit very apparent against the dull wicker and industrial magnolia walls. The clown’s eyes lined in a solid black glared at the boy, retaining the boy’s attention in response.  Deep red lips curled upwards at the edges, creating a malevolent smile across the doll’s face, as if it knew what was coming for the boy and what ‘it’ would do to him when he was finally caught.

With the vision of the doll with its underlying evil and corruption burned into the boy’s mind, he jolted and carried on running up the stairs. At the top he almost fell through the double swing doors, his arms outstretched to let his hands take the force without thinking. As he ran down the corridor his eyes searched the windows into the classroom on his left. Frosting in the lower part of the windows prevented him from seeing with much clarity, but he could see shadows of a tall figure standing at the end of the room, with hunched figures sitting neatly in rows. He knew it was his class as he got closer to the door, reassured by the familiar silhouettes with the edges broken by the pattern of the frosted glass. Finally, the old green painted door was in reach and he grabbed the tarnished bronzed doorknob, pulling it towards him.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

From somewhere inside she resisted, using every ounce of will left in her fragile essence to force her vision away from the eyes of the children, those who no longer existed for themselves, willing slaves of the source of her terror, her ‘it’. A wave of fear flowed over her; her body reacted, wanting to get away. She found herself being thrown forward by her own muscles, commanded from somewhere beneath her terror. Clinging to the fence she dragged herself along until she fell again, the wire support moving away from her as a gate swung open from her weight. She looked up, her eyes trying to focus on the mass of swirling colour upon the brickwork and that is when she saw it.

Shapes formed in front on her, rectangular and a dull green, they wavered until they became one. A light flickered from it, stark white and almost blinding as it became constant, forming a square in the rectangle. It called to her, a desperate comfort and respite from her horrors. Then something blocked the saving light allowing her eyes to settle and that was when she realised it was door. A door into wall, an escape from all those who looked on. Their stares hitting hard into her mind from behind and maybe even escape ‘it’.

She looked further into the square window to see what was now silhouetted by the light. As she crawled closer the darkness faded and revealed a set of eyes peering through the reinforced glass. She jerked back, as she feared that them and ‘it’ were also behind the door, but then the eyes blinked and she realised that behind those eyes was life, someone else who was like her. It was enough. She got up off bruised knees and ran towards the door. She slammed against it, hoping for it to fall open and the room inside to catch her, shutting the courtyard, the other dead children and ‘it’ outside and away from her. Her shoulder ached as it slammed into the surface that did not move, her fists hitting the blistered paint upon the solid wooden door. She wrenched at the handle, blood causing her hand to slip – even when she did get grip it was with no effect, as the door was locked.

She screamed for help at the figure behind the smeared dusty glass. She saw that it was a young boy, maybe eight or nine years old. His face showed panic, his hands gripping his t-shirt with a desperateness only innocence could bring. She could see him looking at her helplessly, his eyes absorbing the terror from her own eyes, from ‘it’. Her soul shattered and she was lost.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

The monolithic walls loomed over the large courtyard. Weathered graffiti spread across the crumbling brickwork telling its story of despair. Sprayed eyes stared unblinking across the concrete, their gaze reflecting the lifelessness of the children’s own eyes; those who stood entombed within the four walls. Silent screams emanated from the young bodies, filling the acrid air like an invisible mire that drowned those who are drawn to its haunting ethereal mists or fell into its deathly caresses when everyone else pushed them away.

The girl tried to run, one leg stumbling in front of the other, her own exhaustion tripping her up whilst her mind tried to concentrate on escape, getting away from them and ‘it’. The dry, thick air stifled her breathing, her head was pounding and exhaustion ravaged her limbs. She could not see straight any more, blurred repetitions of the world around her, fading like ghosts. As she turned her head looking from an escape, she could only see more and more wire fencing blocking her path as if she were a prison inmate.

The colours blurred and edges became lost to her. She fell against the rust coloured wire fence, its lattice weaving digging into her face. Dried encrusted dust separated from the rusting metal, billowing into her mouth and removing what little moisture remained as she choked, bile rising from her empty stomach. She clawed with her fingers at the fence, trying to pull herself up with no avail as her legs gave in again and again. As she fell to the floor, her tired limbs finally giving up, she turned her back against the fence, gouging flesh on broken wire. The clay-like dust mixed with the red blood added further agony upon her senses, layering on top of her exhaustion and terror and almost bringing a torrid sense of peace amidst her panic ridden mind.

She gazed randomly upon all the children, her eyes tearing from one child to the next. They stood like statues, all facing her, all motionless; all dead in their souls. Their eyes bore into her and penetrated her fractured soul, threatening to shatter it like a mirror; breaking her. Unspoken voices tell her to give herself to ‘it’ and let go of life, for she would be all the sweeter to feast upon.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

She thought to herself as she stood at the gate.
What mysteries does that old house contain?
What thrills, excitement and fear shall I gain?
Shall I step through this night and make my claim?
Her eyes sparkled as her thoughts ran away.

Her childhood filled with tales to keep you away.
Haunted by ghosts and a goblin whom played deadly games!
An asylum for mad folk who had once misbehaved!
The boy who had died a horrible death!
When he hid there after running away.

The gate squeaked loudly trying to complain.
But she ignored its warnings and accidently trod on a snail.
She ran up the path, past the old rose plants.
Whose blood red petals had died for winter to come.
She looked at the door, her questions out laid.

Are you the door that opens to my dreams?
Are you the door that hides in my nightmares?
Are you the door that opens to ghosts?
Are you the door that protects the goblin?
The door did not answer.

Knowing the door could not help,
she sighed and looked elsewhere.
She crept past the windows, daring to look in.
Shadows moved against the walls within.
Her heart leapt in fear and joy wanting in.

She ran round the corner into the veranda.
An old swing chair hung, gently swaying in the wind.
She sat down and pondered the trouble she could get in.
Will she get attacked by bats and eaten by rats?
Would ghosts and the goblin take me away?

She then saw the window that was open.
She ran to the entrance and looked right in.
She then pulled herself up and clambered across.
She ran through a door and entered within.
She ran up the stairs and then she saw him.

He stood there all green and lumpy like.
He stood there with his ears pointed quite high.
He stood there picking his nose with a knife.
He stood there and smiled at his new delight.
“You want to play my game” he asked.

“What game is that” she asked with fright.
“It’s a game of chance” he replied suddenly hiding the knife.
“What can I win” she wanted to know.
“Your heart’s desire and some Crumpets”
“Crumpets?” she replied. “Crumpets” he replied.

“What can you win” she asked
“Your heart” he simply said.
“How do I play?” she replied with some disdain.
“Just take my hand” he easily claimed.
She grabbed his hand and they walked away.

They walked to the secret held in the loft.
They ate banquets in the dining room all covered in dust.
They entered the playroom where ghosts came to play.
Laughed at the rocking horse with only one rock.
The next thing they knew it was the light of the day.

“I must go now” he said, “The light it hurts.”
“Have I won?” she asked with a sadness inside.
“Yes you have” he simply replied.
“But you have lost then” she remarked with a frown.
“Oh but I have also won” he smiled.

She leant over and kissed him as he gazed into her eyes.
She whispered “I love you, you have my heart.”
He held out his hand and opened his fingers.
She took the crumpet with delight.
He smiled and said “And now we leave to live in the night.”