The Door

I opened the door, it creaked loudly as it swung open along the hinges. The room was dark except for the small lamp in the middle of the room. The lamp sat in a wooden table along with a folded piece of paper, I walked to it. I reached down slowly and picked up the yellowed note, it read "Can't. Leave." I inspected it more, flipping it to the other side but it was all blank save for those two words. I heard the door shut but the echoes all around me made it impossible to know where it came from. The lamp only illuminated the small table, I couldn't see more than that. The walls were dark and seemingly far away. I heard a strange noise, scratching, scuttling, movement of some kind. I walked towards the lamp so that I could see around me as the noises grew louder. Long, spindly legs moved into the light. The resembled giant black widows legs, but they just kept going. There were no bodies, no abdomens, no eyes, no mouth, just legs. Sharp stabs to my legs brought me to my knees, more made me fall flat on the floor. I coughed up blood, adding to the puddle forming underneath me. The thick warm liquid warmed my skin as I slowly lost conciousness, my vision slowly faded. I felt bliss, serene as the life drained out of me. I watched as another long leg raised above me, and came down through my skull. Then all was dark.

I opened the door, it creaked loudly as it swung open along the hinges...

Original Work by P.H.

Gravity, and Darkness.

My parents had a chunk of land that was about 3 acres in the mountains a few hours away from home. I loved camping and went to our land a lot. I was walking through the forested part of the property and found a large cavern in the ground, I looked down into the hole trying to see what lay inside. It was too dark to see anything, I ran back to the cabin and told my father. He told me we would look at it tomorrow, but I was eager to explore what was inside. I told him that I would go look by myself if he was busy, he said don’t go too far and don’t get stuck or anything. I laughed and said I would be careful and just look around a bit.

I grabbed my small flashlight and walked back to the cavern. I looked at it one last time before pressing the button on the small metal light, shining it into the hole in the ground. It was almost completely void of life and anything but oxygen. A few beetles scurried around, some roots hung from the edges. It went farther than my flashlight would reach, I decided maybe I would crawl in just a bit to see what else there was deeper underground. I ducked and started to crawl down into the dark cavern, doing my best not to obstruct the beam from my flashlight on the ground that my hands were sinking into. My knees hurt from the sharp rocks stabbing their way through the soft dirt beneath me. I crawled until I came to a fork, left or right? I shone the light into them to get a better idea of what was inside.

On the left, the tunnel continued still narrow and small. On the right, I couldn’t see the walls, meaning that this opened up to a cave. I shone my light around the right side more until something shiny caught my eye, I looked hard but couldn’t tell what it was for the life of me. I looked behind me to the mouth of the tunnel I had entered and it was dark, I assumed that it was night time now. It had been late in the evening when I had entered, so it would be dark outside by now. I turned my attention back to the cave and crawled deeper into the large room. I looked for walls but saw nothing around me, just endless darkness save for the hole in the wall where I came from. I looked at the ground, it had a dull sparkle when I shone the light on it. I stepped further, looking for more. I walked for several minutes, not finding anything. This was the largest, darkest place I had ever been. I eventually turned around and made my way back towards the wall where I had come from. I walked for what seemed like an hour but found nothing, not even a wall.

I started to panic, but kept walking. I had to find a wall or a ceiling somewhere, this place couldn’t literally be endless. Nowhere is. I walked for hours, only stopping when my legs couldn’t hold me up any longer. There was no way to tell how long I had been walking around that place, I could have been there days. My flashlight eventually started to flicker, “ No… NO DON’T DO THIS! PLEASE!” I yelled. It was no use. The light flickered out, and I was left in complete darkness. I cried, I was never getting out of here. I threw my light to the ground in anger. I heard a strange cracking noise somewhere in the cave, I couldn’t tell where it came from, the echoes were in every direction. I stood as still as possible trying to figure out what was happening, silence filled in the space all around me. I took a step and heard another crack… it was the floor. The floor was starting to shatter because I had thrown the light. I tried to tread lightly, moving forward into the darkness. More crackling came with each step, until the silence was broken with the loudest one yet. Loud echoes of the sound surrounded me, then the floor beneath me dropped.

At first I couldn’t tell that I was falling, I just felt my body get as light as a feather. I didn’t have to hold my weight up with my legs anymore. I soon felt the air swiftly blowing upwards around me, and I started to tip backwards. I was flailing my arms grasping for anything, but there was nothing. I just kept falling. The darkness made it seem more endless than it already was. I kept falling forever, never stopping. There was no light, nothing to grab, and no ground to fall on. Just an endless falling sensation that lasted forever.

Days, and weeks passed. Even my sleep was filled with dreams of gravity pulling me downwards towards endless nothingness. Sometimes there would be regular dreams, walking in the park, sitting at home, but they all turned into dreams of me hurtling downwards into emptiness. I was alone in this endless tunnel, darkness my only company, no food, no water, just darkness everywhere. I was starving, and had nothing to eat or drink. I wished for anything to satisfy my hunger or thirst, but there was nothing. I accepted this and waited for something to happen, the ground, a ledge, something had to kill me eventually right? A while later a strange phenomenon came to light, I didn’t quite understand why but I welcomed anything that wasn’t darkness. Water started flying up around me, small droplets hitting my skin.

At first I hesitated before drinking them, afraid they would be poisonous. After a while I got so thirsty that I didn’t care whether they would kill me or not, I just kept falling in the darkness anyways. They tasted putrid, slightly like sulfur and metal. I was so thirsty that I didn’t care. That was the only thing in that cavern with me, other than the darkness that encapsulated everything. I almost didn’t notice the droplets because they were the same temperature as everything else, the wind constantly hitting my skin had numbed it as well. I only felt it when it streamed across my face, I wasn’t crying so they couldn’t be tears. I discovered that they were coming from underneath me, falling at a slower pace than I was making it seem like backwards rain. I don’t know how they got there, but they weren’t there long before I was if I ran into them.

I fell more, I fell forever. I never stopped. There was no food so eventually I could feel my muscles being eaten away by my body, trying to keep me alive for as long as possible. The whole world became darkness and water droplets occasionally pelting my body. I lost all sense of direction, I couldn’t tell how long I had been falling in that cave. I wouldn’t last much longer without any food. I lost my hearing from my eardrums being bombarded by wind for what was probably weeks. My senses dulled and eventually were gone altogether. At last, after an eternity of nothing, I fell asleep for the final time. Never to wake from my sleep again, I kept falling forever. Never found by anyone, lost in this dark void forever.

Original work by P.H.

October

Blood everywhere. The entire floor was red, the walls spattered as well. Chunks of human flesh around me, I felt… complete. Warm, thick liquid dripping from my face onto my shirt and into the puddle on the floor. Ripples through the crimson lake covering the floor. Pieces of people floated on the surface. Some sat on the ground, being tall enough to pierce through the surface and be seen above. My reflection looking back at me, grinning sheepishly. White teeth turned pink, navy shirt turned jet black by the red filter of the liquid mirror.

I silently chuckled to myself, causing more ripples throughout the red sea below me. I stepped towards my table, cold, silver and in pristine condition. Then to the tray, my tools glistening beautifully. I kept them all in order, like a professional surgeon would. By now I was basically a professional, all of the experience that I had perfecting my techniques. The blades had become my friends, moving seamlessly, so precise, I had practiced a lot. A person doesn’t get this good at my hobby without putting in many hours of focusing and learning.

I had been stalking them for many months. I saw them at the mall, shopping. They laughed and made light conversation, flashing a smile at something funny that they said. I followed and got closer to them without anyone noticing, they were even more attractive up close. Bright smile, rosy cheeks, kind to the people around them. They were perfect. The best fit for my project, my newest muse.

I moved carefully, being bright and charismatic, kind to them and other people around us. They smiled and made conversation with me, trying to be kind to a nice stranger. I asked to buy them a drink from the food court, some smoothies maybe. They hesitated, “Not supposed to take food from strangers… that could get us in some serious trouble…” I laughed and said alright and backed off. I’ll convince them one way or another. They invited me to stay with them though, not wanting to be rude. I told them I’d hate to intrude, I lied. They said it was alright and included me in their activities at the mall until they started complaining about being hungry, I offered to buy dinner. “Haven’t I earned your trust? I’m not a psycho or anything I promise.” I lifted my hands as if being vulnerable to them, they had no idea and laughed at my comment.

We walked to the food court and I bought them all their burgers and shakes of choice. I walked to get everyone’s trays, and pretended to get straws and napkins while I slipped the pills into their drinks. They would be next, just a few more minutes. They ate, drank, and laughed and by the time they finished their meals they said they were tired and would head home. “So soon? We were having such a good time!” I argued. They said they would talk to me later and got my phone number and walked away. I followed behind them, making sure they didn’t notice of course. I stalked my prey carefully. They had carpooled here so they all got into the same car, by this time the drugs were really affecting them. They all passed out in the seats before even starting the car. Too easy. I got in the car with them when nobody was looking and moved the one in the driver’s seat to the back so that I could drive. I found the key in one of their pockets and started up the car, I’d be back for mine later.

When we arrived at the old farmhouse that I had converted into my workshop, I pulled the car into the garage that was attached by a hallway to the house. I carried all of them to the basement where my tools were, and tied two of them into the metal chairs used for patients in mental hospitals. The third I strapped onto my operating table. This didn’t take long, after all I am an expert. The others squirmed, I had caught about 15 people and chained them to the wall before bringing my new project home. This was going to be fun.

They all slowly woke up, trying to scream through the gags. I laughed, “Good morning, how was your rest?” they tried to scream again. I laughed.” Well I’d love to chat but I’ve got my work cut out for me.” I turned to the table with my tools, and looked at the person on my operating table. I put on my mask, the kind doctors use to keep from breathing onto their patients during surgery. I picked up the bone saw, and started cutting away the limbs. Everyone cried and screamed behind me, it was muffled enough that I didn’t lose my concentration. The blood spilled off of the sides of the metal table, dripping deliciously onto the concrete below. It felt so good to be in control, I had been waiting for this moment forever.

After I had removed all of the limbs, I picked them up and hooked their leg stubs on meat hooks hanging from the ceiling. Then I took my scalpel and cut their jugular, spilling more blood onto the floor. After carving up all 15 of them there was a significant puddle covering almost the entire floor in the small room, a pool filled with blood. I then took their severed limbs and chopped them into small pieces with a butcher knife, flesh, and bone flew everywhere. Splashing in the blood when it fell to the floor, so satisfying. So much blood.

I set my tools down once I was done, and looked around the room. Lifeless, limbless bodies hung from the ceiling. Blood covered the floor. Everything was perfect. I took the pocket knife out of my back pocket, my father had given me this knife before he shot my mother, then himself. I would be seeing him in hell. I opened it, slit my wrists, then my neck. The blood spilled out over my body, warming me like a blanket. My blood swirled and mixed with theirs, we were one. I smiled as my vision dimmed, I could see silhouettes, their bodies around me. Some swayed, like they were dancing in midair. I was barely breathing now, but all I felt was complete satisfaction.

Original Work by P.H.

Ghost

 

Dark, cold, darker, colder. Empty, empty, empty. No more warmth in my body. No more feeling. No more body at all. Where? How was I here? What’s happening? I remember me, my life and the people in it. I remember who I am… who I was. Normal human being. Living amongst the others, walking along through life not worrying about an early death. I should have worried; I don’t know how I got here. Is this death? So much dark. What happened? Nothingness. Am I dead now? Is that it? How did I die? Don’t remember, no thought. Hard to think, cloudy pictures, memories. So fuzzy and unclear.

Loud noise, more noises around me. People in the room. I see dark and dull floorboards, and faded wallpaper. I turn around and see the rest of the room, fuzzy, like I just woke up. Groggy and tired. Two outlines of people in the fog, I tried to step towards them. The floorboards creaked underneath my feet, they whipped around towards me looking startled by the unexpected noise made by my movement. They turned their heads towards each other, I tried to speak. “He-hello?” I said quietly, yet loud enough to be heard. The flashlight flashed in my direction and went right through me, and back onto the wall behind me. I froze, they didn’t seem to see me. They squinted and looked around the room, scanning it before the taller one shrugged and turned to leave. The smaller one grabbed its arm above the elbow and followed.

Darkness again. If I’m dead, then why am I here? Am I dead? They didn’t see me when they looked right at me. Am I a ghost? Loud voices circling me, I recognize them. Who were they? I knew them, and yet I didn’t. Thoughts tangling in a web like flies, stuck around each other. Bad, evil thoughts clouded and cluttered around with the good ones. Good thoughts puffed away in a cloud, bad thoughts sinking the entire web like rocks in a lake. Sadness trying to overtake me. Short bursts of thought and consciousness. Less and less human. No, darkness drowning out the light. Suffocating me, no sight, no sound, no feeling. Just dark.

Days passed, and turned into months and years. A few people came by, I tried to talk to them but they didn’t listen. I got mad and threw things at them. Broken plates, and vases littered the floor along with other random objects. I screamed at somebody and they heard me. They were frightened and ran away. That was the only person who ever heard my voice. I scared a lot of people. I didn’t want to hurt them, but thought of it invaded my mind more and more. Ghosts didn’t really hurt people did they? Ghosts are just there, they don’t interfere with living people. I found that ghosts weren’t all good, I got so angry all the time. I wanted vengeance, but on who? I didn’t know.

I tried to hurt people who I encountered in hopes of feeling better about my demise and situation. It didn’t work. I even tried killing, dropping heavy objects on people. I always missed, no fatalities yet. One day a tall man walked into the house, I couldn’t make out his face. As I got closer I got a weird feeling, like we had met before. I felt a feeling of rage course through me, I tried to hit him with my hands but they just phased through him. I threw a floorboard at him from across the room, hitting him in the back hard. He hit the ground with a thud. I felt good that I had incapacitated him, finally someone that I could kill for sure. I crawled up the wall and ripped it from its place, causing a kind of avalanche of sheetrock and dust to fall down on the man. It wasn’t enough to kill him but he was coughing up a small amount of blood. I wanted to kill him so badly.

I thought about how to kill him, images of the fireplace flashed through my mind. I saw the old, rusty poker in front of it and immediately walked over and picked it up. I carried it over to the man and looked down at him. I recognized him somehow, in that moment everything became less foggy. The world was almost clear, clear enough to make out the man’s face. I remembered. That man had walked into my house saying that he needed help. I let him in and made him tea, brought him a blanket, made him a guest in my home. He had said that he called someone to pick him up but it might be a while. At this point I had realized that I hadn’t asked him why he needed help. He was in such a panic that I just wanted to help him with whatever he needed. I turned to the stranger sitting on my couch, “So what happened?” he looked at me and sighed. ”I was hoping you wouldn’t ask, I was just starting to get comfortable.” I gave him a puzzled look. He took a gun out of his pocket and ordered me to be quiet.

I obeyed, and put my hands up in front of me. I nodded at him and waited for him to say anything else.  “Sit.” He said while gesturing to the chair that I was sitting in moments ago. I sat back in my chair shakily but as calm as possible. I stayed quiet as he stood up and walked around, “You have such a lively home miss. So many beautiful, and expensive belongings.” I followed him around the room with my eyes, he had his eyes on my carved wooden elephant from India. He traced the pearls draped on its face and the flowers painted on its head. “This is a lovely piece of art, where did you acquire it?” I thought for a moment, “It was a gift from my cousin when she came back from India.” He smiled, “A lovely gift indeed.” He turned around towards me, “I would like a meal, do prepare one for us and set the table.” He said confidently, like I was his servant. “A meal? I really don’t think this is the time sir.” He had the gun pointed at my forehead. “I really don’t think this is the time for resistance miss.” He retorted. “I would feel more comfortable if you would put down the gun.” He sighed. “I really hoped it wouldn’t come to this, but I guess all good things must come to an end.” He let his arm fall and pointed the gun at the ground, I let out a sigh of relief. “Goodbye miss.” I opened my mouth to ask him what he meant but before I could get a word out he aimed and pulled the trigger. Then nothing.

The world went fuzzy again, my vision blurred and the room spun around me. I was back in the dark old house with the man who murdered me. He had aged by about a decade, his hair started to gray, skin wrinkled around his eyes and mouth, but still him. He looked around the room, examining the torn wallpaper and dusty floorboards. I felt so much anger, rage filled me and I felt the room shaking. I looked up at the broken chandelier dangling from the ceiling, the man also looked as it swung back and forth. He would have fell if he were to move so he crouched a bit and stayed where he was, trying to regain his balance. I shook the chandelier harder, the ceiling started to crack, the metal clanging against itself. He looked frightened, “Do you feel that? That’s exactly the same fear that I felt before you shot me in the head.” He must have heard me. He cried out, “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” he begged ne to stop. But it was too late for that. I pulled the chandelier from the ceiling, and threw it down on him with a wet cracking noise. Blood spattered the floor and walls. My anger subsided, my killer was dead.

All was quiet, peaceful even. The front door opened, slowly, and quietly. The darkness of night was all there was to see. It was calling to me, asking me to go out into the night. I walked to the door, out of the house for the first time since I had been trapped here. I was drawn to the yard, almost in a trance. I walked over to the garden, and I started to dig down into the ground. I dug for a few minutes, throwing dirt into the grass behind me. I never thought that this would be what I found. A small wooden box with cloth on the lid, embroidered with my name on it. I picked it up and brushed off some of the dirt. I opened up the box, only to find a note and the necklace I was wearing when I died. The note read:

My dearest,

I am so terribly sorry. I wanted you to be happy, I wanted to give you the world. I failed you. I tried to get to you. I gambled away all of my money. I asked everyone I knew for help, but nobody would give me the time of day. I didn’t ask you because I was afraid you’d think me a fool. I lost everything. A man came along and told me that he could get me to you if I worked for him for a month. I told him your address so that he could get me to you and thought nothing of it. I thought he wanted to help me. I’m sorry I was so wrong.

He had me interview people for his company, though I didn’t know what his company was. I soon found out that it was a testing facility, they tortured and killed people so I tried to quit working for him. They took me and locked me in a cell. They experimented on me, starved me, and many other people. They were trying to make people into weapons. After feeding me a strange chemical I got so weak, they thought I was dead. They threw me into a box with many bodies. I couldn’t talk, I could barely move, and my pulse was almost nonexistent. They left me in that box for almost a week. I almost died, but I thought of you and fought on.

I ate rotten food that they threw in the box with our bodies, I assume it was the garbage. As soon as I was strong enough to escape I got out and ran from them. Whatever they gave to me made me stronger. I fought for money until I made enough to see you. By the time I got to you they already had. He killed you, darling I am so sorry he got to you. Your necklace was the only thing left in the house. It was caught on a floorboard. I picked it up and wept for you. I am so sorry.

I hunted them down, I killed them for you. But I couldn’t find him. He didn’t work for them. I’m sorry. I will never stop until he is dead, so I leave this with you. I will avenge you, I swear it.

Love,

Your dearest father.

Original work by P.H.

Stitches

He was very proud of what he had planned for tonight. He had gathered all of the necessary supplies, sat down and thought about what he was going to do, then he wrote it down so he wouldn’t forget. He made a very nice detailed list. It was all so perfect. He had grabbed the girl off of a street corner, planning his route extremely carefully. She was one of the girls who went out regularly and partied the night away, she did every weekend and sometimes weekdays as well. He had followed her all the way from the club to the empty street, but of course she was too intoxicated to notice his car behind her the entire time. He didn’t even have to jump out and grab her like people usually do, he casually rolled down the passenger window and asked her if she wanted a ride home. She hesitated, but only for a moment. She opened the door and hopped in clumsily, then he drove off. It was really that easy. He drove a little bit above the speed limit, not enough to get caught of course, but just enough that they would arrive at the abandoned warehouse a few minutes sooner and she wouldn’t ask too many questions before they got there.

She was so drunk in the car that she passed out on the ride there, this was perfect for the man’s plan. He picked up her limp body and carried her inside the old structure, he set her down on the table and she slowly woke up. She started asking where she was, he told her not to worry and tied her down on the operating table. She started to panic now. As drunk as she was, she knew that this wasn’t right. She struggled against the restraints, but he had planned for this. He broke one of her shins with a small club he had brought just in case. She screamed and cried, he laughed and smiled at her. He grabbed the saw from the table and started cutting just above her kneecap, all the way through she wailed in pain. When he finally got through, he took her severed leg and got a skin graft from it. He sewed it onto her stump that used to be her leg. She kept kicking and wriggling under him. He couldn’t work like this; he would mess up. He took the club and hit her over the head with it, she was unconscious now. He continued to sew the flap of skin onto her leg.

He moved to the other leg and repeated his previous actions, saw, cut, sew. Then he moved to her arm, he started sawing off just above the joint of her elbow. She started to wake up again, “Good morning, I’m glad you’re awake. Now you can join the fun.” He said. She screamed in response, and tried to wiggle her arm so that he couldn’t cut anymore. He held her arm down and continued to cut. Her screams became more and more hoarse, her throat had to be burning by now. He took another skin graft from her arm and sewed it onto where he had cut. She kicked and screamed, then a puzzled look came across her face, she looked down at her legs and screamed. The man again smiled at her, happy with his work. He had worked hard to make her perfect. She cried as he moved around her to her other arm, he was so happy. He was almost finished now; she would become his own, living doll. He would dress her up, do her hair, and play with her all the time. He would finally have a friend to play with. He cut the other arm, again she kicked and screamed. He continued working and ignored her struggling, she stopped after about 5 minutes of it not working. He was relieved, now he could work in peace. He again sewed on the skin so that her arm was complete.

 Only one thing left to do now, he would remove her teeth so that she didn’t snap at him. He grabbed the pliers and quickly moved towards her. He knew she wouldn’t open up on her own so he grabbed the club and put her out again, he didn’t enjoy doing this as much as you might think. They were going to be friends after all. He peeled back her lips and put them in the dentists tool he got, it held her lips open so that he could work on her teeth. He examined them, they were beautiful. He opened her jaw a little bit and put the pliers on one of her bottom teeth, he wiggled them around and yanked. The tooth came out fairly easily, although it took some muscle. He continued to do this with all of her teeth, one by one. He couldn’t get some of the back ones out, so he left them in. It would be better for her chewing food. He stepped back and admired his work. He was very pleased.

He got the frilly, pink doll dress he had picked out for her and put it onto her, then he dressed the wounds with gauze and bandages. She was so pretty. She started to wake up, he grabbed the mirror he brought for her. Her eyes fluttered open, he held the mirror up to her so she could see how pretty she was. She screamed again and started to cry. The man smiled, he knew she would love it. She saw her teeth missing, and moved her tongue to feel around her mouth. She screamed again, sobbing at herself. He picked her up, “You’re my new doll” he smiled. She screamed and sobbed more, she wiggled in an attempt to get away. The man had a good grip on her, she wasn’t going anywhere. He took her to his car and buckled her into the back seat, he was taking her home to their dollhouse. He drove a few hours with her screaming in the back seat, his house was by itself on several acres. They could play alone together forever!

Original work by P.H.

Buried alive

As the darkness closed in I couldn’t help but wonder What was it worth? This life, this being? Why are we incarnated into these mortal vessels and forced to endure this world? All of this death and the sense that you don’t belong. What of this world and all of its beings? What are we to do with this life and experience of this? I guess I will find out soon enough. Dirt walls surrounded me, I had been kidnapped, thrown around, and bruised. Thrown into a hole in the, earth god knows where. I looked up at them and yelled to let me out, screamed for help but no one came to my rescue. They laughed at me as I tried to claw my way out, kicking, jumping, and scratching. I probably looked like an animal in a trap, helpless against the tomb they had built for me to die in and be trapped inside forever.

 They had dug the hole deep enough so that I couldn’t climb out. When they threw me in I had broken an ankle while landing. They started shoveling after I stopped struggling, I tried to brush the dirt off of my body but they just threw more on top of me. It had started to pile up on the ground beneath me, a timer telling me of my impending demise. It piled up on my feet and legs, I stood up on my good leg to gain more time. The dirt kept piling up agonizingly slowly. It was soon up to my waist. I tried to pull myself out, but I was stuck. My broken ankle ached and pain sprang through my foot and up through my leg. As the dirt piled up to my chest I tried to brush it away from my body, shoving it to the side so that I could continue to breathe a little longer. I continued to dig as much as I could. Eventually I started to be completely covered. I started to choke on the soil entering my lungs, I could barely move because of the pressure of the heavy dirt on me. My tears made mud stick to my face, more dirt piled on top of me.

I pushed dirt off of my face the best I could but there was always more. I couldn’t step on top of it, my feet just sunk into the earth. I tried using my hands to pull my body out but they sunk in too, and the weight of the dirt on my body was too heavy to lift. It had been hours since they started, their shovels only held a small amount of dirt. They were almost as exhausted as I was.  My breathing became heavy and labored, I barely had my head uncovered. I felt the grit in my teeth, and tasted the bland, musty flavor of the dirt going into my mouth. I couldn’t move more than an inch with any part of my body, the dirt was packed so heavily. Dirt stuck to my head and face from the nervous sweat I was emitting. I coughed more from the soil in my lungs, and more rained down from above. My eyes hurt from the grit and sand in the dirt, I tried to keep the dirt out of them but it was everywhere. I could feel the bugs crawling on me, all over my body underneath the dirt. Ants bit me as I struggled to unearth more of my head, I flinched at the sensation.

They had almost completely covered me, a few more shovels full of dirt and I would be suffocated. I felt more pressure as more dirt piled onto me. Another shovel full fell on my face, I spit out some dirt and inhaled some. I started coughing profusely, the dirt again entering my lungs. I tried to wiggle my arms and legs to try to get out, it was no use. The dirt pulled loose was quickly filled in by more. I yelled again, my voice was hoarse both from screaming so much earlier and the dirt in my throat and lungs. They scoffed at my efforts. They knew they weren’t getting caught, not today at least. My eyes watered from my coughing and the dirt scratching them. I kept struggling, grasping at straws to stay alive. I shook some dirt off of my head.

 I looked up at the sky for the last time, it was so beautiful. The stars shone so brightly, we must have been pretty far out of town and away from everyone else in this world. I breathed in some fresh air, dirt was the only smell. I looked up again and got more dirt thrown in my face, I didn’t care at this point. I shook it off again and looked up at the stars, I saw the big dipper. I’m not much of an astronomer so that’s the only constellation that I recognized. I saw the north star, and a few more bright stars. Maybe they were planets, the sky was lovely tonight. Maybe in other circumstances I would get a telescope and look at them, but not tonight. Tonight was my last night, decided by the men shoveling dirt onto me. A tear fell, then another. Soon enough I was crying, asking myself why this was happening.

It was too late for that now. I coughed and sputtered as things started to go dim. The dirt had covered my eyes; it was all around my head. I tried to shake it off but not much fell. I couldn’t see or hear anything. I struggled again, trying to free myself but I lost hope very soon this time. It wouldn’t work, it hadn’t so far and I was exhausted. I said my last goodbyes to the world and was covered completely by the soil they threw. I couldn’t breathe, I struggled for air but there was only dirt. More and more dirt. I inhaled more and more of it and coughed. Tears fell from my eyes into the dirt. My chest felt so compressed, my lungs felt like they were shrinking. Every time I tried to suck in air my chest felt like there was a vacuum in it, trying to pull something in but there was nothing. I started to feel lightheaded and dizzy. The lack of oxygen would cause me to lose consciousness soon, I cried and coughed and tried so hard to gasp in any air that I could. There was nothing but dirt all around me, for all of eternity there would be nothing but dirt. I slowly fainted, and that was the last of my life. All ended for a sick joke that I didn’t even understand.

Original work by P.H.

Surgery

I looked down the blade of the knife, it shone under the harsh blinding light of the fluorescents above us. “Well then, let’s get started why don’t we.” She pressed the blade to my cheek, carving out the underside of my left cheekbone. I felt the blood drip down the side of my face onto the operating table. I relaxed my muscles the best that I could. If I were to flinch or jerk my head to the side I could quite possibly lose an eye, or she could possibly nick my nose. “Well sugar, you’re a trooper aren’t you?” she said with a sickeningly sweet snicker. “We’ll see about that then wont we…” she stated coldly.

She turned and grabbed a sharpie from the table of tools just out of my view. She popped off the cap and started marking a dashed line on my right thigh, then vertically across my left kneecap. She moved to my abdomen and made another dashed line across my belt line. A shiver went down my spine and she must have noticed because she stopped and said, Oh? Nervous aren’t we… Don’t worry, this procedure will be over before you know it.” She let out a creepy giggle that made me cringe. She went back to work with the lines over my body.  When she was done she picked up a rubber tube from the table with her tools and moved to my right leg and tied it above the dotted line she had made earlier, then she picked up a sharp and jagged saw from her table of tools. “This is probably going to hurt… a lot.” She smiled at me sweetly. “Try not to scream, it messes me up.” She took the saw and started to saw at the line on my thigh, excruciating pain shot through my body while the majority was focused on my leg. I wanted to scream and cry and try to escape but I couldn’t move, I couldn’t bring myself to move a muscle in my body. I sat there and took it, all of this pain. She hadn’t sedated me, or done anything to stop me but tied my arms and legs down. I just couldn’t move.

She continues to cut and slice away at my skin, ripping open my flesh painfully. Tears fell from my eyes but I still made no sound. I didn’t move or flinch, I only trembled. She kept cutting and laughing, though I don’t know why. The pain almost caused me to faint. I stayed awake through the entire process of my mutilation. She would turn to me and talk sometimes, but I didn’t hear a word she said. At one point I looked down at my abdomen to find that she was removing my organs. Another tear slid down my cheek and I looked back at the ceiling to try to avoid thinking about it more. My mind wandered to all of the things I would normally think about before I fell asleep, things to keep me awake and make my mind race.

I felt a strange pressure on my thigh, she had removed the rubber tie that was stopping me from bleeding out. “Well darling, it’s been fun but I’ve got to run off to my next playdate. Goodbye sugar!” She ran off before I could protest. I sat there in a pool of my own blood, in the most pain I’ve ever been. Finally, I couldn’t take anymore. I screamed, I let out the demon inside of my lungs. I broke the silence taking over my world. The last thing I heard in my mortal life was the sound of my own wails of agony.

Original Work by P.H.

Witch

The villagers didn’t understand. I was a doctor, not a Satanist, or a witch, or a necromancer. I was a normal human being like them. I used herbs and strange methods to heal people. My medicine is unconventional, yes. I would never hurt anyone. A woman with a genetic disease that I was trying to treat had died, there was nothing I could do. They thought that I had poisoned her. If it wasn’t for my medicine she wouldn’t have even lived this long anyways.

All my life I had been different. I loved to wander the forest to search for herbs, to make tea or perfume. I loved to mix and create little things like that. My mother encouraged me to learn how to use my talent for medicine, so that I could help people. I healed so many. People started saying that I was a witch serving Satan, tricking them into thinking I was a healer only to poison and kill them. They said I would soon sacrifice them to the devil. Why would I do such a thing? I was born and raised in this town, among these people. So were my family for generations before me, but they didn’t think anything of it. They were convinced that I was evil.

They laughed as they drug me from my home, men grabbing me by my hair and arms while I kicked and struggled against them. They pulled me into the street and threw me to the ground. More men took their place and tied my hands behind my back, then they grabbed me again. It was a riot, people holding torches and shovels. “Witch!” they screamed,” Demon!” they yelled. I dared not retaliate, I might be clubbed if I dare say they were wrong. I felt the hair ripping out of my scalp as the men drug me by it. Savages. My wrists started bleeding from the rope rubbing against them harshly. I focused on the pain, distracting myself from my nearing end.

I didn’t cry as they dragged me towards the tree. My knees scraped across the rough gravel, bleeding and bruising. I didn’t scream as they tied the noose around my neck, or when they poured the cold gasoline on my body. “Any last words, witch?” I hung my head, only looking at the ground. They laughed again. They were amused at my agony. They didn’t want a witch dead, they were bored and wanted a show. They pulled the noose tighter around my neck, then took a torch and lit the gasoline covering my body. I screeched as my skin melted off of my body, I was being cooked alive. They started to pull the rope tight to hang me from the tree. I choked on my screams, I couldn’t breathe. I struggled as I hung in the air, swinging around like a fish out of water. They laughed more. I started to tremble, I didn’t have enough energy to swing anymore. Why didn’t my neck snap? Why won’t this end?

I finally fainted from lack of oxygen, I dreamt of a meadow with all of the flowers and herbs I could ever want. It was beautiful. I was in my own little world, I helped the sick animals. I used the honey from bees in my tea, and made my own cottage in the woods near that meadow. That was heaven. I slept forever and never woke up.

Original Work by P.H.

It Lurks

I’m not afraid of the dark. I fear what lingers inside of it, what uses the night to cloak itself from our eyes. Usually you get over this fear when you are a child, but I never did. I saw what was behind that veil that we call darkness, it lurks in the shadows and waits. It wants to maim, and harm, but not kill. Killing you would be too merciful. It wants you to suffer the consequences of it’s actions. It will never take responsibility for what it did, it will hide behind you. Use you as a shield, and blame you for what its done. It will destroy you without hesitation, fast or slow is its decision. It loves the pain that you’re in, it feeds off of negative emotion. It thrives off of pain. It loves to see you fail. You cant escape, it will tether itself to you. Where you go, it goes. What you see, it sees. It knows you, it knows your family, it knows everyone and everything you do.

It is a part of you. A parasite that entered a wound of yours long ago, an infection that never heals. A sickness that cannot be cured by any healer or doctor anywhere. Its always there, looming over you. Looking over your shoulder at everything that you do. Injecting fear, anger, and misery into your veins. Ripping your heart out of your chest, only to put it back again, but more broken than it was before. It sucks away your will to live, and to fight for what you believe in. It takes you away from yourself. The crippling fear preventing you from fighting back. It will be the end of you. You can try to stop it, but it will never let you win.

Original Work by P.H.

March: Part 2

I have so little time left. I have cut out all of the toxic people from my life, all of the people who I thought were my friends but never really were. My parents just want me to do the testing that the doctors are suggesting, I don’t want that to be the rest of my life. Needles, tubes, and monitors reminding me that I am running out of time faster and faster every day. I walk through the city every day; I look at all of the beautiful things that I missed. All of the things that I was just too busy to look at before. All of this graffiti under the bridges is more beautiful than most things seen in art museums. There is a beautiful mural of an Indian, he is wearing a handsome feather headdress and there is an eagle on his shoulder. He is also gazing up at a picture of the moon, he is so graceful and diligent looking. He is beautiful.

It has been a long few weeks. I can’t walk anymore, my legs gave out and my parents took me to the hospital. I have been refusing to sign their papers for testing for several weeks, but I am losing my hands and arms as well. I fear that this is it. I have scheduled a meeting with my doctors for this evening, I am going to sign the waiver for them to start testing on me. I have to sacrifice my freedom to buy some more time. Hopefully this will cure me, and I won’t have given up for nothing.

The testing is painful, lots of needles. Lots of skin samples. Lots of loud beeping monitors. The room smells of sterilized instruments and hospital food; they have a drip of solution to an I.V. in my arm. The dull pain is slowly driving me mad but I can move less and less by the day, I am trapped here. These white walls and sterilized environment is my prison, god help me.

I can barely move. This treatment isn’t working. So much pain. All of these needles, the scars om my arm from them wont heal. My legs are thin and frail from lack of muscle, and I sit here for hours waiting for death. The doctors say that soon I will be comatose. All of the other patients are fine, what is wrong with me? Nothing is working. I just hope that they don’t try to save me after I’m gone.

Everything is fading, I am so tired. I am having trouble keeping my eyes open. I have so little energy, my life is slowly disappearing before me. They said it would be like this. They said they will put me on life support and continue testing. Why won’t they leave me alone? I am ready. Let me sleep, let me be in peace at last. Let me leave this place. This is the end. This is my end.

Original Work by P.H.

March: Part 1

The cold on my legs caused goosebumps to form across my skin. My thin, tight jeans didn’t provide much protection from the cold. Spring would be soon, the flowers would bloom, the trees green again. Though, I wouldn’t experience it the same as everyone else. I had been diagnosed with a strange illness. I didn’t bother to remember the name, basically I had developed paralysis. The doctors say that before mid-June I will be completely paralyzed. I will have no feeling in any of my body, I won’t be able to move. I will be a prisoner. My family says that we will try anything to make me better, the doctors keep reassuring them that they will try everything they can. Though I know the truth, it’s all an act. One of the nurses pulled me aside and told me there are no known cures for my condition, I would be a guinea pig in some experiments. Poked, prodded, and injected with whatever they think will work. My parents agreed to sign waivers for me to be used as a test subject. These next few months could be my last free ones, and I don’t want to be somebody’s science experiment.

I refused to sign any papers. My parents were shocked that I didn’t comply, I didn’t want to be a lab rat for the last months of my life, I wanted to be free. I wanted to travel, to see all of the amazing things that people talk about on their death beds. The Grand Canyon, the jungle, the Taj Mahal, going snorkeling in Hawaii.

I walked along the sidewalk and listened to the few birds left in the neighborhood chirp, it’s far too cold for any bugs or other animals, but the birds stay. They could come and go as they pleased, but they stayed. Damned fools. If only they knew to run as fast as they could, get out of here before it was too late. If I had wings like them, I’d fly my ass right out of here, and never look back. Everyone talks about the seven stages of grief when hearing news like this, but nobody talks about the numbness. The sheer shock of it all, somehow you feel less than before. Everyone around you goes through the stages, and you just sit and watch. People often mistake this for depression, but it’s just numb.

My hands keep getting shakier, I’m afraid that soon I will not be able to use them. My body goes numb sometimes and I fear that it is the end, that I am trapped sooner than I expected. I am still free for now. I have been going to the park and looking at the art, it’s beautiful. I am thinking about starting to paint but with the way I have been deteriorating I doubt that my work will get anywhere. Every day my muscles are less and less cooperative, I feel my cage building itself up around me. The freedom is slowly leaving me, soon I will be as much as a statue.

This is a two-part story, part two should be published by the end of march.

Original Work by P.H.

January

January, the cold engulfed me in a gust of icy wind. I shivered as I stepped out into the snow covered grass, the cabin has a fireplace and stays warm enough for me to not wear a sweater if I don’t want to. I gripped the flashlight in my hand harder trying to find some kind of warmth in it to no avail. I had to get more firewood to cook the canned soup I have in the cupboard, the shed had enough to last me a few months or so. I trudged through the snow over to the large shed that held the firewood and coal, I opened the heavy door and stepped inside while I turned on my flashlight.

Something rustled towards the back of the room, squirrels. It wasn’t uncommon for some of them to take shelter in the woodshed during the harsh winters here. I ignored the sound and rummaged through the pieces of wood scattered around the floor. I grabbed a few pieces and hugged them to my chest, I heard the rustling again. It was coming towards me, usually they stay as far away as they can get especially in a confined space such as this one. I turned around and shone my light over the wood in hopes to scare away the tiny stalker on my heels. I swear I saw something move but it definitely was not a squirrel. I froze in place waiting for more of a glimpse of it, it was still as the circle of light shook with my hand. I started to step backwards towards the door, but tripped over a piece of wood. Of course I thought my clumsy ass tripping as some weird creature that might kill me is a few feet away from me. I lifted the light back up to where it was before and that’s when I saw it.

It looked like a disfigured furby, its limbs long and skinny. You could see every contour of every bone underneath it’s disgusting, scarred skin. Spots of it’s skin were rotten off exposing the bloody bone and tissue underneath. Then the stench hit me, you couldn’t just see its flesh rotting from its bones you could smell it. It opened its mouth to hiss at me and I saw its yellow, broken teeth decaying and in the same state as the rest of its figure. As it hissed small droplets of spit were forced out with the air, some landing on my feet. I stood up without taking my light off of the creature, it lunged at me arms out trying to grab onto me. It wasn’t more than 3 feet tall, but it moved fast. I ran out the door and slammed it behind me before it could get out, it kept trying to break down the door but it couldn’t being the size that it was. I didn’t have a lock on the shed doors so I held the door shut until I thought it was safe, I started to run to the safety of my cabin but it got out of the door. It was faster than me and before I could run more than a few feet the creature attached itself to my leg. It clawed through my snow pants and jeans and its claws ripped through the flesh of my leg. I yelled in agony and tried to kick it off but it was anchored to my leg. It clawed and clawed at my leg ripping it apart like a paper shredder.

I tried to crawl back to my cabin the pain was too much, it just kept clawing and it was moving up my body. It jumped to my abdomen and clawed again, I couldn’t breathe. My intestine were soon lying in front of me, out of my body turning the snow red. The it clawed out one of my lungs from under my rib cage. I tried to breathe but I couldn’t. It all hurt so badly, I couldn’t do anything. I looked on as it took a bite of my liver, then tossed it. It kept taking out my organs and taking one bite, deciding that they weren’t good, then tossing them aside to try another. It ripped open my chest and finally it took my heart. It took a bite, and then dug in to the rest. I died, so much shock and pain. I couldn’t bear it, but finally I was free.

Original work by P.H.