WARNING

This is a horror story, a horror story containing extreme and intense violence, torture, blood and gore, and I made it to scare the living f**k right out of me and you. There is so much of these factors that I will have to rate it as M as soon as I can. If you are below the rating's minimal age or simply don't have the guts for such extreme gore, please turn away now. This is your only warning. Read at your own risk.

This story is an original horror, influenced by various horror factors that I don't want to discuss. This story was also the work of a nightmare, as well as the work of an extremely tortured mindset.

READ AT YOUR OWN RISK...

Living Nightmare

Chapter 1: Awoken

A young Fire Bro lay asleep inside the basement of a dormant but intact house, laying down on a bed in the simple, wooden, empty room.
His eyes flutterd slightly and his body twitched. He groaned weakly and slowly moved into a sitting position, rubbing his eyes.
"Ugh, where am I?" he groaned. "What am I doing here?"
He slid his feet off the bed and laid them on the floor, he tried to stand up, but his knees buckled and he fell to the ground, closing his eyes tightly and retching. When he opened his eyes, he saw a puddle of blood where he had retched onto. He moved his tongue inside his mouth and the metallic taste of his own blood filled his mouth. The puddle of blood seemed to wobble, then started moving on it's own. Mystified, the Fire Bro got up successfully and followed the moving slug of blood. The living slug of blood moved up a wooden staircase leading to the upstairs and the outside world. The Fire Bro opened the door, which promptly fell off it's hinges. The room he emerged in was bare, dusty and littered with wreckage. The slug of blood climed over the wreckage like a moving liquid, the Fire Bro guessed it was, and headed outside.
"Where are you taking me?" the Fire Bro asked. The slug of blood did not reply. The Fire Bro fought through the wreckage, feeling confused.
He opened the main door and gazed outside in horror, The air was filled with smoke and chemicals, the buildings were either collapsed, boarded up or burning, the streets around him were littered with trash, glass, puddles of sewage and blood, and most horrifyingly, mounds of dead, dismembered and bloody corpses of people, Toads, Koopas, Goombas and other creatures the Fire Bro could not recognize. He walked gingerly around the mounds of dead bodies, before stopping in front of a pool of blood that seemed to have a message written into it, reading: If you know who you are, you will be wise and come to me. If you don't know who you are, or if you are not wise enough, you will still come to me, as I own your identity and soul. Better not keep me waiting. -Strahovlada.

Just the name struck fear into the Fire Bro as much as the message had. He closed his eyes and tried to remember who he was, but he couldn't remeber anything, anything apart from his name. His name was Flare, he was a Fire Bro, but that was all he could remember.
"Why can't I remember who I am?" he asked himself. He touched the ground and tried to summon any fire, but nothing happened. He didn't feel like a Fire Bro, he felt like a normal Koopa in a Fire Bro's red shell and helmet.
Still, if he wanted to remember who he was, and he needed to, he would have to confront this person who call his/herself Strahovlada. A knot of anxiety built up in Flare's stomach. He didn't know who he was, yet he felt like his situation was going to get much worse than it already was.
A glint of silver in a puddle of blood caught his eye. He walked over and found a silver, circular ring lying in the puddle, gleaming and had a flaming symbol engraved on it. Flare picked up the ring and examined it carefully. A name was engraved on it as well, but not in a language Flare could understand. He slowly slid the ring onto his left index finger. A feeling of comfort spread through his body, but it didn't subside his fear of meeting Strahovlada, or gift him with his missing fire powers.
Flare looked onwards into the downtown of the town, which had a few apartments and tall factories, covered in haze and with a few factories still on fire. Some buildings were crumbling, some were already collapsed, others were missing chunks of stone or their glass windows were smashed in. A cold wind blew from downtown in his direction, chilling him to the bone and sending a ghostly message with it.
"Be a good boy and come to me." the voice hissed. It was a feminine voice that seemed to be crossed with ghostly whispers, a snake's hiss and a seductive charm. "There is no place to hide, and if you come early enough, I might spare you some of your misery." The voice sent as much chills through Flare's nerves as the wind had. He took a shaky breath and swallowed nervously. He had to go, he wasn't being given an option, but these messages weren't exactly comforting.
Flare cursed himself. He was a Fire Bro, even if he couldn't utilize his fire ability. He had to be strong, and he had to find out about himself. He slowly took steps forward, heading fearfully towards the wrecked downtown.

End of Chapter 1.