Original Stories by Aratak

~Aratak~

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Original Stories by Aratak

« on: January 22, 2010, 02:53:16 PM »

So I want to post my various stories I've written. First is my latest, a ghost story written for Creative Writing. Not as scary as I could have made it, but I don't want my teacher thinking I'm deranged Tongue

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I swivel around, trying to catch the surroundings with my camera. My hands are shaking, making the film appear to be bouncing around as if there was an earthquake. My panting is the only thing I can hear in the silent night in the house. I’m at a junction of three hallways. Behind me is darkness, and to either side there is darkness too. The light from my camera is the only thing I can see by.

   A sound like a shriek comes from the hallway to my right and I sprint down the left to get away from it. I hold the camera above my head, facing behind me, to maybe catch the image of what was chasing me. Steps pounding like elephants follow me, steps that have no feet.

   I come to another junction and instead of choosing a path I force open the door at the end of the hall. It takes a few shoulder shoves before I’m able to get it open, and I shut it behind me, just in time to catch a glimpse of a gray figure with glowing red eyes shimmering in and out of existence.

   I turn around on the spot, sweat beading on my brow. I point my camera in every corner of the room. It is an old bedroom. The covers from the bed are hanging off onto the floor, and in the dust there are footprints that resemble some kind of animal like a dog or large cat. On the ceiling is a dark patch of black like a stain. There is one window, but it is barred, and as I catch my reflection on it, it isn’t my face, but a woman staring at me. I stare back, slowly bringing the screen of my camera within view and looking at her with it. All there is is a blur of gray that could have been a smear on the glass. As I bolted back out of the room the thought occurred to me that no one will believe me. If I ever got out of here.

I turn right this time, looking for some kind of window or a door that looks like it might go outside. But no matter which way I turned the halls all looked the same. Once in awhile I swear I have passed the same painting a dozen times, and each time the eyes would follow me, glaring at me, hating my very presence. “I’m trying to get out!” I would say to them, but I would receive nothing more than a feeling of hatred so deep in my soul I loathe to even breathe.

I am completely unprepared for when the hallway opens up into a room. I am so thankful to be in an open area instead of the claustrophobic feeling of the dark hallways. It has a large, long table in the center of it, with chairs pushed up to it. There are candles that have never been lit sitting in the center of the table, all around the center piece that is dried flowers, long since dead. The room is lit by a ceiling that has glass in some places instead of a roof. The darkness is so complete in the sky I wonder if the outside world even exists anymore. It doesn’t seem likely that I will be getting out of this horror house anytime soon.

My eyes followed the length of the table. A large door is at one end. A rug sits in front of the door. Thinking that this is the exit, I waste no time in running up to the door and trying to open it. Somehow I know that it will be locked, and I am right. I tug and tug, twisting and turning the knob back and forth. Putting my foot against the wall, I try to use the force to increase my efforts, but the door doesn’t seem to even move at all, as if it was just another part
of the wall. Making sure it didn’t open the other way, I ran into it a few times before giving up when my shoulder screams with pain.

I keep my back to the door as I look around the room to decide which way to go now. I notice something that wasn’t there before. Plates are now at every chair, every chair except one. In that chair sat the demon that has been chasing me ever since I set foot in the house. I do not bother to look at it through my camera, but I point it in her direction anyway. Whispering softly, hoping the spirit wouldn’t hear but my camera would, I say, “There is the reason for the haunting of this house. A girl, probably fourteen or fifteen.” Talking louder, I addressed the ghostly figure. “What do you want?” She stared at me with fiery red irises, but did not answer. “Can you let me out?”

The feeling of hate I received from her eyes is so powerful I drop to one knee. The camera drops from my hands, clattering to the side out of reach. Without getting up the girl is standing before me. The loathing she gives off intensifies the closer she is and I feel unable to move, stuck in place by fear and hate. “You will not leave,” the demon said with a voice like Satan’s wife. “You will stay.”