And another drabble! This one's just plain random. I love horror flicks, and was talking about them with some friends last night.
Oddly enough, I had a pretty creepy dream (that had nothing to do with this, but still). I SWEAR I woke up with a chill and a weird feeling of something pressing on my back, but there was NOTHING there. Fuck.
Young gang. Couldn't help myself but throw in the tinest bit of Hiccup-Astrid interaction.. because of reaons. Yeah.
Summary: fear is but a survival instinct, triggered by pain or a threat of danger... or your whatever lurks in your imagination.
Terror Tales
"Close your eyes and call her name three times, they say, and she comes to take you when the darkness leaves; so you may never open them again."
They had asked for a tale, the fools. He would tell them one. "Yet you do it, to prove them wrong."
"All is silent at first; you can only hear your own breath start to quiver and your heart hammering in your ears..." said the old man calmly and slowly.
"Then it begins with the sound of scratching – nails dragging upon stone. That's when you know she's there, out to get you. The hunt has started… and you are her prey."
The freezing wind blew against the tree branches outside and whistled ominously through the leaves, so loudly it could be heard indoors. It sent a chill down each person's back, like a thousand needles pricking tirelessly at their bones.
"Then all of your body grows cold," he continued, eyes bulging from their sockets, hands writing in the air, "the moment she begins to hum."
"It's the sound, you see, that crawls down your ears like maggots," the old man twisted his long spidery fingers in the empty air, the game of dull orange light and dusky shadows cast from the hearth adding to the unsettling effect of his words.
"There may be not a soul alongside you, but you can hear her. She's warning you… but there's nowhere else to run; it's dark and cold and you can't keep your feet steady."
The old man's voice continued unnervingly cool and raspy to his silent crowd.
"The smell comes next. It is that of ungodly corruption – seeping through your nose, raking your throat raw as it fills with bile, reaching down your stomach and pullingit inside out."
The old man growled then, his hands motioning sickeningly in the air; a terrified whimper escaped from the otherwise still mute audience.
"Her skin is clammy and sticky, the long-since dead flesh pale and glistening under the moonlight, patches of it peeling off her as she moves toward you. They lay there, those bits of skin, decaying on the floor. You can hear them falling too, hear them slapping on the ground with a plop, each time getting closer.
"What little hair she has left is black as night and clings to her skull, barely covering her white dead eyes. Her mouth is but a black void littered with rotten teeth, lipless and ever open, eager for fresh flesh. You cannot see her; but you know she's there. You feel her presence closing in."
The group huddled closer together unconsciously, seeking comfort in each other's proximity.
"You keep fumbling in the gloom, keep looking for a way out when there is none. You run to the left; run to the right; stumble and trip and fall."
The suspense had built up dangerously, the faces watching the storyteller intently as people held their breath. "So you tell yourself you need to see where you're going to escape. You open your eyes…
"She hates being seen."
He paused to gather momentum as someone gasped.
"– but she smiles before ripping the heart from your chest." The boy who had whimpered before now let out a full-blown screech, jumped up and crashed nervously against his friend on his side, both quivering. The look on everyone else's faces was priceless.
"Your fresh blood drips on the floor and covers her hand and face while she devours your heart, the steam from it filling the air around you. But you're not dead. You can feel it. You can see it. Because you have called her, and now you will have to watch."
The old man's expression softened as soon as he finished. He scanned everyone's faces – mostly terrified ones – and let out a satisfied cackle, nodding approvingly. "You were the ones who asked for a terror tale!"
"Tha's right!" Gobber conceded, a little less enthusiastically than usual, "Time t'get off t'yer beds, all of you!"
He gestured to the children, motioning at them to stand up. He pulled Fishlegs – the screamer – and Snotlout apart, ordering them to take their leave.
The ten-year-olds shakily – yet begrudgingly – bid their farewells to their visitor before heading home.
The man was an old Viking sailor from an isle far away, and was called The Storyteller by his much younger companions. That's why Fishlegs had asked the man to tell them a tale, but Tuffnut was the one who said it had to be scary.
Hiccup – being Hiccup, of course – couldn't help himself. He doubled back behind Gobber and approached the elder. He asked the withered sailor what was the name of the woman from the tale.
"Sure you want to know, boy?" Hiccup nodded firmly. Reading the curiosity and resolve in the child's eyes, the old man chuckled darkly.
He leaned over listlessly and whispered, "Dauðramein."
Little Hiccup felt a chill from his ears down to his spine and left without saying another word, scurrying hurriedly through the nearly-empty, darkened Mead Hall. He knew the blast of cool air that hit him the moment he stepped out was just caused by the cold weather, but he quivered in discomfort nonetheless.
"Off t'yer homes then, the lot of ye! It's past yer bedtime!" Gobber bellowed.
As they were ushered down the stone steps of the hill, the other children all bombarded Hiccup with the same question: "What did you ask the old sailor?"
At first, Hiccup didn't want to say it. The tale had spooked him out a little, and even he wasn't sure what had possessed him to ask the name of the undead killer… but he eventually told the others, anyway.
"Dauðramein?" Snotlout repeated airily, trying to hide his uneasiness. Snotlout could never pass up an opportunity to look tougher than anyone else. Especially when he figured that might help impress Astrid.
The moment he had started taking interest in her – during last year's Thawfest games, actually – he'd become completely unbashful about it. "Sounds stupid."
"I think it's scary," Fishlegs quipped, looking a little pale.
"Dude, you're scared of crabs," Tuffnut added, dismissively waving his hands in the air.
"Crabs can snap your fingers off!" Fishlegs replied heatedly.
"It's just a tale," Astrid said flatly, her arms crossed over her chest. "Stories can't hurt you."
Hiccup gazed at her fondly; he always thought her to be so brave, and admired her for it. Unlike Snotlout, though, Hiccup wasn't very open with his feelings. He would just gawk oddly at the blond-haired shieldmaiden-in-training, until he would realize his jaw had gone slack.
Snotlout noticed his cousin's little display of attention and, shoving Hiccup aside, began to boast loudly about how Astrid was, indeed, quite correct. "That was just a silly bedtime story to me!"
Ruffnut immediately latched herself to Snotlout's beefy arm and gave it a vigorous tug, forcing him to a halt.
"Really?" she asked deviously, "Then you wouldn't mind calling her name out with your eyes closed, would you?"
"Why would I? I already said I think it's stupid. I don't believe any of it." Snotlout said defensively, but he did feel a bit of a queasiness in his stomach. He swallowed it down and inflated his chest.
"If you're not scared of it, then you'll do it!" Ruffnut insisted.
"Why don't you do it, then?" Snotlout spit back.
"Huh, looks like you're chickening out after all," the girl Thorston commented slyly. Oh yak on a stick. Ruffnut had him cornered.
"Fine," Snotlout conceded with fake detachment, "I'll play your stupid game –"
"But", Tuffnut cut him off, "We gotta go somewhere quiet. Somewhere indoors."
Snotlout wanted to ask why, because he did feel a lot safer outside, but he didn't want to look scared. He was relieved when Fishlegs began calling them to reason, but none of the other kids – not even Hiccup – seemed to share the plump boy's concerns.
They were in it for the thrill of adventure, at this point; Snotlout was the ideal guinea pig for it.
Everyone was surprised when it was Astrid who suggested Hiccup's place, since his dad was still going to be in the Mead Hall for a while longer. Hiccup groaned and wanted to protest – his room was currently a bit of a mess – but nobody gave him the chance.
It was an obscure and icy winter night; they rushed to the Chief's house in quick strides, the cold wind biting at their ears and noses and chilling them as it rushed through their clothes.
The moon was but a slit in the sky, providing very little light to steer the darkness away. Even the enormous braziers, held up high in the sky on their wooden pillars, flickered weakly against the Nordic gale.
If the atmosphere alone wasn't enough to creep a bunch often-year-olds out, the horror story in itself certainly did the trick. They were Vikings, however, and so considered themselves very tough; a little bit of extra adrenaline was only good for them.
They hurried upstairs to Hiccup's bedroom, where he lit up a candle and placed it on his bedside table. Nobody cared about the messiness – aside from Astrid, no one even seemed to bother looking around.
The way she was eyeing Hiccup's drawings on the walls made him feel a little bit self-conscious; her eyes flicked over him for a quick instant before focusing on Snotlout. Hiccup forced his eyes away from her and towards his cousin as well, awaiting quietly.
The group stared at Snotlout with growing expectation.
"Just a stupid game," he mumbled more to himself than to the others, before clearing his throat. His palms were sweaty now, his stomach in a turmoil. He ignored his body's reactions and steadied his voice, before closing his eyes tightly shut.
It was now or never.
"Dauðramein." He called once, unwaveringly. He balled his fists.
"Dauðramein." Second time. He held his breath.
"Dauðramein." He said, one final time. His voice faltered slightly, but he kept his stance, eyes closed and fists clenched.
Nothing happened; all he could hear was the thrumming of his own heart and an occasional breath from one of the others. The quietude was eerie, however.
"Well?" Tuffnut asked impatiently after a creepy silence. "Do you hear anything?"
"Of course not," Snotlout replied with relief.
"Maybe we need to wait longer," Ruffnut suggested.
"Told you it was a dupe," quipped Astrid, her hands now on her hips as she smirked.
"Well, that's a relief," Fishlegs said. Hiccup nodded in agreement.
But then Snotlout jerked suddenly, his eyes still closed, hissing at the other kids to keep quiet.
"What?" Fishlegs asked immediately. Snotlout's only response was a heated "Be quiet!" and they all fell back into a cautious silence.
"Do you… hear that?" He asked in a hushed voice, his eyes still shut as he scrunched his face in an effort to concentrate on something. Everyone else exchanged glances and shrugged.
"Hear what?" Astrid whispered back, an eyebrow cocked in scepticism; yet her blue eyes squinted with stinging hesitation.
An almost livid Snotlout replied, barely audible, "That… scratching…"
What was he talking about? They looked around in confusion, trying to see if anyone else gave signs of hearing something… and then a cold gust of wind. The candle blew out.
Darkness enveloped them with its chilly fingers, forcing everyone to let out a whimper.
"What?" Snotlout demanded, his voice breaking with worry. He was regretting this so much right now.
"Th- the light," Hiccup said, "The candlelight is out." He fumbled with his pockets but couldn't find the flint again. It didn't help that someone was now clutching his shoulder, fingers digging into his skin and giving him a small tug. He jumped at first, but realized it was Astrid the moment she spoke.
"Get the light back on, Hiccup," she commanded, but he couldn't find the flint. Where was that flint? He could have sworn in was in his pocket –
He picked up a sound then, despite the minor hubbub from the other kids… The scratching.
"Oh no," little Hiccup murmured, "… I hear it too."
All the other children stilled in their places, unmoving. Astrid's grip on his shoulder tightened to the point of being painful. Everyone else could hear it now: a faint scratching, coming for the left… no, the right.
Now it was somewhere else.
Now it was everywhere.
Fishelgs whimpered pityingly. Someone decided to try to move and stumbled somewhere, cursing. It was then they heard a low drone, wavering yet continuous… like someone moaning in pain… The chill settled in their stomachs, panic beginning to pool in their very core.
"We need light!" Tuffnut cried out in exasperation.
"I can't find the flint!" Hiccup complained, still searching his every pocket.
Astrid's grip loosened for a moment as she pulled him closer and started to feel at his clothes, patting at him with forceful taps. "I'll find it," she growled, basically smacking the boy silly all over the place.
Well, he couldn't deny he'd wanted Astrid to be close to him for the longest time now; but this was completely uncomfortable and painful and he was pretty much sure the whole experience was supposed to feel the exact opposite. So he tried to get her to stop, which never usually worked out anyway so he wondered why he still even tried.
Chaos erupted the moment Snotlout shrieked out, "Oh Gods! I can feel it! The smell!"
The smell. Everyone could feel it, too…
Tuffnut ran straight against Hiccup's wall, hitting it with such force he collapsed on the ground, unconscious. His twin sister blindly tripped on him and screamed, scared witless that she might have stumbled on the dead woman.
Her yelp freaked Fishlegs out even further, causing him to hurl his dinner all over the floor. Astrid gripped Hiccup's tunic tightly, giving up on the idea of finding the damned flint; he swayed unsteadily, mindlessly spreading his arms protectively around his friend.
As soon as Snotlout heard the sound of something squishing, he let out a high-pitched squeal – "IT'S HER ROTTING FLESH!" – that threatened to pierce everyone else's eardrums.
At that moment Tuffnut bolted upwards, wide awake thanks to the blood-curdling yelp, running the opposite direction from the wall and crashing into Snotlout, who was immediately sent hurtling through the doorway and down the stairs from the loft with a startled cry.
By now Fishlegs was sobbing, Ruffnut had found Hiccup's bed and hid herself under the fur blanket, Tuffnut was yelling shaky apologies in Snotlout's direction – who lay sprawled at the end of the stairs – and Astrid had all but jumped on Hiccup's lap, causing the skinny kid to collapse to the ground in a very inelegant fashion.
They were all going to die.
That woman was going to come for them, and eat their hearts, and make them watch, and –
"WHAT IN THOR'S NAME IS GOING ON?" Came Gobber's booming voice from downstairs. He'd heard the kids screaming on his way to the privy and went to investigate, only to find a terrified group of kids yelling that the dead woman had killed Snotlout.
Snotlout, of course, was pretty much alive. Just very sore. He refused to open his eyes the entire next day, convinced that the thing was haunting him, even after he was told perfectly logical explanations.
The scratching sound was only the mice running about (the Haddock household cat had died a fortnight prior and had not yet been replaced). As for the smell and squishing, those had been a result of Fishlegs' upset stomach. The candle going out had been due to a breeze, certainly.
But the fact is, to this day none of them likes to speak of that night. It's just one of those weird "what if" moments, caged securely in the back of their heads, never allowed to see daylight.
Even now, the sound of scratching makes Snotlout's hairs stand up in the back of his head.
THE END
Since I'm kinda lazy and rather unimaginative, the name "Dauðramein" is a mix of the words "pain" and "death" in Old Norse.
Does anyone have anything against bumping the rating to T ? Because there might be one or another drabble that can't fit into the K+ rating, haha. (and I may or may not have already written something along those lines, derp.)
Opinions are very well received. :D also if you have any horror favorites - books or movies - I WOULD LOVE TO KNOW because i seriously can't find enoough good stuff.