It was noon. The birds were chirping, the sun was shining, a cool breeze blew. The weather had been great so far, and while it could be a little warmer, nobody was complaining. After all, life was great. There were no wars going on, everyone could somehow manage to bring food to the table, and…
Many people jumped when a large, heavyset man with short red-brown hair and beard stormed past them. Stuart Haddock scoffed at the ironic line of thought. His walking pace slowed down, his fists clenched, and he glared at his feet. "Nothing's perfect," he murmured, not even registering when he bumped right into a group of teenagers, though he did not care enough to hear if they complained or not. "Nothing ever will be…"
Daunting and terrifying, his destination loomed before him. Stuart's snail-pace turned into a crawl while a large shadow from the building, loomed over him. He was suddenly glad he'd decided to walk from his apartment in the city rather than take a cab. It looked as if the building was glaring down at him, accusing him. YOURFAULTYOURFAULTYOURFAULT
Escaping and fleeing home suddenly felt like a good idea. Nobody would know that he never came, right? He could gain nothing but more pain and grief from going in there. Sometimes, he wouldn't even be noticed. Not even by the receptionist. But, other times, he'd be greeted and told to go to his usual destination. A chill ran up the overweight man's mind when he remembered what exactly he was getting himself into. Again.
And even though he knew he would hate it, would cry over it, would resolve to never go back again…he would. He had to. (YOURFAULT) If he didn't, who knows what would happen? (YOURFAULT)
Daring one final look around him, Stuart heaved a deep breath and walked up the entrance of the building. He tried to mentally prepare himself, but it was no use; his mind had been shattered countless times before, and it would be, without doubt, sliced open and chopped into a million pieces just like the last times. Like a soldier equipped with nothing but his senses and his fragile, cracking sanity, the man forced himself into going into the one place he wished would burn in the deepest pit of Hell.
He immediately noticed the change of lighting. While it had been nice and pretty outside, it was dark and cold in here. The shadows contained monsters. Out of the corners of his eyes, black figures hovered until he looked towards them. Whenever Stuart even glanced at a bright object, the afterimage always seemed to reform into that of a screaming, agonized face stretched to its limits. He shuddered, staring at the ground directly in front of him in a vain hope that it would stop the obvious tricks of light. This place was designed to break the weak, right? Might as well keep them out, right? He took a long, deep intake of air and stepped further into the building, hoping to find the receptionist's desk by memory.
Eventually, his feet bumped into a hard, wooden object. Stuart's head shot up, relieved. He'd made it to the receptionist's desk! The woman working there looked bored out of her mind, tapping a pen rhythmically on the pitch-black, shiny surface she was leaning on. Her eyes looked right through his chest. It took several seconds for the dully-colored irises to reach up to his. She asked him what his business was here, and she told him where to go.
Like a wary animal, Stuart followed the directions. He had to go to a different part of the building now(SCREAM) This puzzled him a bit, since he saw no reason or motives behind the new placements, but at least it gave him more time to think. On the downside, he had to walk through several dark, threatening hallways. And he couldn't even stare at his feet. He was forced to read every sign, every door name, and look at every deathly-thin human figure in the corner of his eyes and endure the eyeless, gaping-hole-for-mouths and tortured decapitated heads.
Pleasant as the hallways were, Stuart couldn't have been happier when he got to the assigned room. And then it died away when he realized what he had to do. He shuffled his feet, bit his lower lip, and rubbed his forearm with his left hand. He'd gone this far, hadn't he? He should finish this. But still, the man hesitated. It was only when his mind played yet another dirty trick on him that he opened the door and threw himself into the room. It took him a few seconds to take in what he had just put himself into.
Pretty pictures hung on the wall. Most of them were of a strange, rabbit-like creature with wings and a long tail. It was never colored in, but it was implied that the animal only had one color for its entire body. The strange thing was that the backgrounds of these pictures were detailed until they looked almost lifelike. In each one, though, a white space with harsh, angry black outlines housed the abnormal fantasy animal that, without fail, was a blank space on the paper. As Stuart's eyes trailed from the front of the room to the back, he noticed something; the pictures in the front were of real people and places he recognized. But, slowly, as they went onwards towards the back, they seemed to loose their sense of reality. Characters became blank, hollow forms. Animals sprouted wings. Some breathed fire. Eggs were everywhere in the pictures, more often than not cracked or in the process of being cracked. Humans became nonexistent, as did the landscapes. Soon, it all became focused on the blank mutant-bunny-thing.
Learning of these odd pictures disturbed Stuart to no end. He'd been here multiple times, and he'd never seen one before. Why were they never shown to him? Or were they hidden? Shaking his head, the obese man closed the door behind him with a barely-audible click and walked into the brightly-lit room. He took immediate notice of a malnourished, skinny guard standing in the corner. The gruff-looking man frowned darkly, picked up a white piece of clothing, and walked towards the center of the room.
Even though he had been expecting it, Stuart couldn't help but whimper. There, in the center of the room, right where the guard was heading, stood a boy. A lonely, teenage, skinny little boy. Auburn hair greasy and messy, green eyes alit with madness, freckles everywhere…he was just the same as last time. And the last. And the last.
At least, his body looked the same. The boy was standing in the center of the room, making odd gestures with his hands, as if he were rubbing something besides him. He suddenly jolted back, and his eyes followed an imaginary object that bounced across the room, making him look like he was having a seizure. The teenager didn't even take notice of the guard as he wrapped the clothing around his chest, binding his arms, and walked out of the room, only pausing to nod at Stuart before leaving.
Surely that would have created some sort of response. But, the boy continued with his gruesome game of imaginary-eye-tag, looking at things that weren't there. His bindings bulged as he tried to move his arms again. Stuart dared not move, watching as his son wandered around the room, completely lost. It was when the teen actually walked into a wall and kept on going, unaware that he was pressing himself against an inanimate object, that Stuart spoke up:
"Enough." No response. "Come, now." Nothing was there, either. Giving a shaky sigh, Stuart slowly advanced on the still-walking-into-the-wall boy. He lightly grabbed his shoulders and pulled him aside, taking him to the center of the room. A confused look flitted across his son's face, but then it was replaced with the same blank, head-in-the-clouds expression that the teen had adopted for the last two years.
Whatever it was, it sparked hope into the father. "Come on!" He cried, shaking the boy vigorously now until his head lopped back and forth like a ragdoll. "Please!" He stopped, suddenly realizing what he was doing, and stared into the boy's eyes. For the first time since it (YOURFAULT) happened, their eyes met. They froze, unsure of what to do.
However long they stood like that did not matter. When the boy unlocked their eyes, Stuart realized that he had waited too long. He was on the verge of screaming and shaking him again, to explain the situation quickly while lucidity still remained, when hope reignited once again. The boy willingly looked up and deliberately stared into his eyes. It was almost like he was normal…but…
Eyes glinting maniacally, the teenager bared his teeth in a mocking attempt of a smile, yellowed teeth glinting. "Dad!" His voice sounded bright and cheerful, like the false, outside world. "We were just looking for you!" He turned and smiled at something besides him and giggled, his nasally voice rising to a high pitch at an abnormal speed and suddenly dipping far below what one would expect of his vocal range. Stuart shuddered and fought the urge to turn and run.
"Right!" The boy suddenly exclaimed, returning his eyes to lock onto the man's similarly-colored green ones. "So, can we?" He asked, leaning to his side and teetering midair, as if an unknown force was keeping him from falling. Stuart lunged to catch the boy when gravity decided to teach him a lesson, frowning heavily when the insane boy didn't falter once in his smile; his grin stretched across his face, pupils and irises unnaturally small, eyes completely fixed on the same spot. He continued speaking while Stuart straightened him, voice rising in pitch and falling in waves. "Please, DAD? Please, PLEASE, please?" The bonds bulged in a faint hand-like shape when he tried to gesture. The smile impossibly became wider, seemingly swallowing everything up. Stuart suddenly regretted coming at all when the teenager looked sharply to his right, watched a spot of air intently, and then laughed in the same abnormal way he'd done earlier.
Especially since it was too familiar. The laugh, the sudden questions, the eyes…
And right then and there, Stuart decided to end it. He would inform the boy of his mentality, and, hopefully, that would break through the thick fog he'd wrapped himself in and send him back into the real world. He reached out and clutched the boy's shoulders, leaning in close. Then, when they were almost nose-to-nose, he whispered, "Son…none of that is real. Look around you. What do you see?" The boy frowned, glancing around. His brows furrowed and his mouth pulled in tightly. The gruesomely-colored teeth bit at his lips until all the color left it.
"…Most of the villlage?" The boy asked, confused. "What's WRONG, Dad?" He blinked in surprise when Stuart's hold tightened on him in response to his voice. "Is something BOTHERING YOU?"
Internally, Stuart was wailing and crying, like those screaming, agonized faces out in the hallway. He couldn't give up now, though, when the teenager was giving him a chance to explain everything!
With the most serious tone he could muster, he said, "It's not real. Whatever you're seeing…it's not really here. You're in your…room. Do you see all the pictures you drew? Do you see the lack of windows? Look at your arms; they've been bound. And we're completely alone." The child looked at him like he was the madman of the two. "You've been off in your own little world, son, and I'm bringing you back." Stuart's voice got lower in determination, and he practically growled, "Now look around you and tell me what you see."
How the teen looked even more confused was beyond Stuart's comprehension. He was telling the truth! "Tell me what you see!" He shrieked, pushed the bounded boy away from him roughly. Fear lit up in the child's body language and eyes and he skittered back, whimpering and moaning. "Tell me what you see!" Stuart repeated, feeling his throat close up. He gritted his teeth and clenched his eyes shut, holding his face in his hands and doubling over, watching his shadow wave unnaturally in front of him. "I don't want to lose you forever…."
Over in the corner now, the boy sniffed loudly and groaned. Stuart fell to his knees and uncovered his eyes, blinking rapidly to refocus his vision. When the colors became crystal-clear, he frowned at seeing the teenager pressed into a corner, wrinkling all of the paper taped to it. He was hunched over, a shadow falling across his entire front, his body was shaking, and his eyes were darting like frightened animals to and fro. He scanned the area, horror written across his face. Then, he ducked his head. Silence fell across them.
"Aaah….Aaaaah…." The boy moaned shakily. "Aaaaaaaa! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!"
Rendered completely useless, Stuart stared in frozen shock as his son screeched at the top is his lungs, voice so high it felt like his ears were popping. The teenager pushed himself into the corner as far as he could, wailing the entire time. Eventually, his feet slipped, and he fell to the ground, where he resumed his caterwauling.
"EEEEIIIIIII!" The child screamed. His eyes were wide, pupils and irises overtaken by the whites. In their random movements, they settled on Stuart. He paused, breathing heavily.
Yet the peace did not last.
Out of nowhere, he began to call out names. Some Stuart recognized, but others were absurd and almost intentionally comedic. Once the boy seemed to run out of his list, he started spouting random sentences uncontrollably, each running into each other to form a trainwreck of lost mentality. "NOT MY FAULT I'M SORRY WHO ARE YOU WHERE DID HE GO GO AWAY WHAT HAPPENED HOW DID I GET HERE WHERE IS HE WHERE IS EVERYONE WHERE IS TO—"
Understandably, Stuart's fragile nerves were completely wrecked by this. He slowly, shakily began to stand up, almost afraid of the boy noticing him. He now realized that 'breaking the news' had been a deathly mistake. One that might just make his greatest fears come true. Tears streaming down his plump face, the man stood to his full height and took a single step backwards. His boot clicked on the floor, but to Stuart, it sounded like a bone snapping in half.
" I NEED TO GET OUT OF HERE LET ME GO WHERE IS HE HELP HELP HELP!"
Movement twitched in Stuart's vision, and, for a second, he thought it was one of the grotesquely-thin black-colored human figures he'd been seeing all over the building. But when he blinked his tears back the figure didn't leave; it took the form of his son, who rushed at him with a wailing cry of despair. The boy pressed himself into the terrified man's chest, unable to wrap his arms around him, and sobbed, stopping his chantings. Stuart cautiously brought his arms around the teen's body and crouched low to his eye-level. The child sniffled at him, eyes red.
"LOST FOREVER!" He suddenly shouted. Stuart jumped and recoiled. "Lost forever, forever lost! LOST FOREVER, FOREVER LOST! LOST FOREVER, FORVER LOST! LOST FOREVER, FOREVER LOST!"
Out of nowhere, the boy jumped away from something imaginary. "Ha! HahahahahahahaHAHAHAHAHAHA!" The uncontrollable sounds shooting out of his mouth made Stuart's body tense like the way a startled dog's hackles raise. The boy leaned back and allowed himself to fall to the ground, continuing his laughter—which sounded more like an animal being tortured in a trap.
Stuart couldn't help it. He sobbed, watching his son tear himself up from the inside. Turning on his heel and trying to ignore the bone-chilling "LOST FOREVER, FOREVER LOST!" chant that had come back from the grave, he fled. The door seemed a million miles away, across a great canyon…and, somehow, it managed to get within Stuart's reach. He looked out the window into the hallway, seeing a multitude of screaming face appearing midair. Suddenly thankful for them, he slapped the door open and rushed outside. He could still hear his son's voice echoing, the chant sometimes being interrupted by maniacal laughter. Abruptly, at the climax of a laugh, the teenager stopped.
"Toothless! There you are!"
First horror fic I've ever written. It's based off a theory I came up with awhile ago.
Would anyone mind telling me if this was creepy or not, and if it was, if it ever mellowed out at any point? Thanks!
Kudos to those who can figure out what's off with the paragraph structure.