Who knows Fatal Frame? Who played Fatal Frame? Who loved Fatal Frame? :3
Here we go: Fatal Frame - Naruto style XD (without the camera)
I hope someone is interested in this idea^^ I would've never guessed how hard it is to write something scary. I gave my best and I hope you guys get into the mood ;)
The song I cut in half right through one strophe, because I thought it was convenient. It's nice as an introduction, so who wants to hear, just go on Youtube and search for Fatal Frame III - Sleeping Priestess.
I hope you'll enjoy :3
Demon Tag Ritual
Author: Eisfuchs
Summary: The bond of brothers. An ancient mansion. Three friends. A child. A cruel ritual. A love that was never meant to be. A sacrifice. A grudge and a spirit that just won't rest in peace. SasuFemNaru AU
Rated: M, for blood and gore
Disclaimer: Naruto© belongs to Masashi Kishimoto, Sleeping Priestess Song© belongs to Tecmo
Prologue
Sleep, Priestess, Lie in peace.
Sleep, Priestess, Lie in peace.
If you cry, the boat you'll ride
The last trip to the other side
Once you get there
Sacred marks you'll bear,
They shall be peeled off
Should you fail to lie still
Sleep, Priestess, Lie in peace.
Sleep, Priestess, Lie in peace.
The mansion was hidden deep within the forest, where only the moon could embrace it with its cold light. It was surrounded by coniferous trees that had overpowered the soft deciduous ones on the way from the near village a long time ago. The path had been uneven and unused, covered by mosses and black granite stone as if the near village's citizens wanted to hide the building from the world itself.
Surrounded by a stoned wall and an enormous gate, the mansion stood proudly in front of the man that had climbed up the mountain on the search for the forsaken place. Only a flashlight in his hands the stranger seemed small against the towering building.
Slowly he neared the gate and drowned it in a little circle of light, flashing it from one side to the other and up and down carefully. The wall itself had cracks and riffs all over it and had become stained by the hands of time. The iron gate had a layer of green lamination, which had already crumbled away at some parts.
When the man reached the top of the portal, he saw faded paint in one corner of his lightened circle. He drew his flashlight up to that part and could discern a faded symbol on one of the iron gates, almost unrecognizable. Guiding the flashlight to the same level of its twin gate he was able to catch sight of the same crimson red color. The symbols seemed to be identical.
He turned around at the faint sound of chiming bells. Flashing his light from one end to other of the dark forest's outline, he searched for its origin. For only a moment he thought he saw the shape of a small human silhouette, but the shadow was gone within the blink of an eye. Just to be sure the young man illuminated the small clearing a little longer, but there was no sight of another human being.
His attention focused back on the villa. Forcing his way through the heavy gates, he approached the traditional Japanese mansion with careful steps. To either side of the paved path were shaggy remains of what must once have been a beautiful garden. The building's walls glowed eerie white in the moonlight.
The young man ignored the uneasy feeling in his gut and neared the wooden entrance doors. Pushing against the sturdy wood, the doors yielded under his strength with the screaming of their hinges and gave way to the earthen entrance area and the raised floors behind. He couldn't even see the end of the hall. Again, the sound of chiming bells resounded in the darkness.
Suddenly the young man's flashlight started to flicker and, with a curse from his lips, died completely. Nervously he fiddled with the flashlight, but it just wouldn't turn back on. Grasping it tightly in one hand, he tried to spot the device and was blinded by its cold light when it abruptly turned back on. Instinctively he pointed the light down the hall and went rigid at the sight of a small child clad in a pure white kimono.
In his shock the young man dropped the flashlight and clouded the figure in darkness once more. Immediately he reached after his only source of light. Gripping the device tightly, he illuminated the hallway straightaway and froze when he saw the child gone.
His heart beat erratically at what he thought must have been a trick of his mind. Reluctantly he took a step forward, further into the entrance area, searching frantically for any sign of the child really having been there, but there was nothing but the wooden floorboards and the disturbing silence of the mansion. It was so silent he could only hear the pumping of his own blood in his ears.
Sighing deeply, he forced his muscles and heart to ease and with a shake of his head he entered the building completely. Every step he took was accompanied by the awful scrunching of the sand under his feet until he reached the two steps up to the raised floors. Just as he took the first step the doors slammed shut behind his back, destroying any calm he had forced on his body. Every hair on his body stood on edge.
Nevertheless and against his better judgment, he pushed forward, deeper into the mansion. Following the long hall with slow steps, the young man ducked under some old Japanese Noren curtains, which were tattered in some places. Right behind them, there stood two old-styled cabinets with books, bottles and caskets on top, on either side of him slightly off-center. At the end of the hallway there was a mirror, reaching from the top of the wall down to the floor.
With one hand, the young man wiped the thick dust from its smooth surface. Through the weak light of his flashlight, he was able make out some of his now more prominent features; the lifeless black hair, the deathly pale skin and the heavy bags under his dulled onyx eyes. He couldn't get used to that repulsive creature that looked back every time he looked into a mirror. It had been months since he had last gotten a full night's rest.
Disgusted by his own reflection, he turned to the short corridor on his left, where he easily spotted a sliding door completely made out of wood. He tried to open it, but it wouldn't budge an inch, so he gave up easily.
Then he heard naked feet running over hardwood floor.
Whirling around, every muscle tensed, he lit up the opposite corridor, but there wasn't anything. He stilled for a moment and boggled when he heard a door being shut. He flinched back when he hurt another pair of feet running right over his head on the upper floor.
He gulped heavily, but knew that he had no other choice but to follow the way, where the noise had come from. Passing the grime-strained mirror, he never saw the head emerging out of the shadows behind his back and the skeletal hand that reached out for him.
With cautious steps he followed the corridor and turned left when he reached a corner. At the end of the hallway he caught sight of another sliding door, which he approached with a deep intake of breath. In contrast to the other door, this one opened with little strength and he found himself in a small living room area.
On the other side a staircase was leading up to the next level. Opposite of it was an opening, leading into another room. In the center of the room was an iori, a built-in-hearth. The wall in front of him was lined by two cabinets with strange patterns on its front. Small items and figurines were displayed on top of it and right over one of the cabinets hung a hideous mask. In one corner of the room a yellowed folding-screen was shoved against the wall.
Curiously, the young man walked over to the cabinets and regarded the objects on top. He grasped after one of the little dolls wearing a kimono and turned it over. The doll's long black hair seemed to be made out of some kind of animal hair and it wore a bright red kimono. Putting it back to where it been before, he turned his attention to the demonic mask. It resembled a poorly made head of some kind of feline.
Looking around he noticed a gallery over the door he had come in from. Across the gallery was another sliding door. He wondered if the footsteps had come from the room behind, but didn't want to dwell on those thoughts longer than necessary. The young man had never believed in the existence of spiritual beings, but since the day he had been denied of any form of sleep, he had become almost paranoid.
Shaking his head, he went over to the staircase and climbed it, wincing when they creaked under the weight of his body. Before taking any step he flooded the stairs with light to examine the brash wood beneath his feet. He managed to reach the end safely and sighed in relief that the stairs hadn't collapsed under him. Moving the beam of light back to eye-level, he stopped midway, frozen, upon the discovery of a child's bare feet and a hem of white cloth.
It took only a second for the feet to disappear from the flood of light and he was barely able to catch a glimpse of how the door slid shut. This time the young man hastily run after the small figure. Ripping the door open he looked around for the child, but it was nowhere to be found. Even though there was no other entry and no window, there was not even a trace of it. Bewildered his eyes shot around the small space.
Under his feet were tatami mats and the only special feature in the room was the tokonoma, a small alcove, where a tiny stature was glancing brilliantly in the shine of his flashlight. Above it hung a large plain scroll he had to get closer to, to be able to recognize the signs.
It read: Kono Yo no Kyūseishu, Saviour of this world.
As he finished reading the last word his eyes started to burn almost painfully and a dull throb spread from the back of his head. Grasping his hair tightly, he unconsciously glanced down and his eyes fell on the small crystalline figurine. An inexplicable urge to take hold of the tiny stature filled his being. He gave in to the feeling and reached out for it.
The pain in his head and behind his eyes became more and more unbearable. Only inches parted the young man from the figurine, from the bright red glass, but to him it felt like an insurmountable distance.
And when he finally touched the figurine every sound died.
The pain in his head ceased.
His eyes no longer hurt.
But every need, every thought, to touch the figurine died, when he sensed the ominous aura lurking behind his back. It petrified him down to his very core and even though the young man knew he would regret turning around, he forced his body to obey. He forced his feet to move, his body to stir and his eyes to see.
And his vision was filled by pitch-black hair, transparent skin, where he could discern every dark vein, every burst vessel in the thing's body. Morbid bloodshot eyes watched through his very being. And there was blood and darkness and a bony hand reached out for him and chapped lips whispered in a dead voice.
"No one will survive… no one."
If the Priestess wakes from her dream,
Perform the rite of stakes.
Her limbs pinned tight,
Lest the doors open wide,
And suffering unleashed on all.
Go to the other side.
Go to the other side.
Cast the boat, take a ride.
Cross the rift, to the other side.
Further, and further, to the other side.
It must sail, bearing your tattoos
And our offering of tears...
TBC
Please someone tell me they got scared at some point (even if it's just a little)? DX
Thank you for reading ;)
Eisfuchs