-A Nightmare1
The saying goes- keep your friends close; but your enemies’ closer- sometimes this happens unwittingly, the person you believed your friend is your foe or the person you thought your foe was actually your friend. And when this happens, the consequences may be deadly.2
It was the 19th of June, 2009, the day was bright and sunny and the birds were singing. Cars raced by me on the main road as I walked from the Woodcroft shopping centre, towards a park. I felt a light breeze brush the blonde fringe away from my eye’s and strands that had freed themselves from my lose pony tail dance.3
The ground at the park was brown with small patches of off coloured green grass scattered over the square block, an up-to-date playground with bark to soften children’s fall’s was set in the middle, with trees and wooden benches spaced randomly around it. One bench was occupied by a golden haired man, with skin so pale he could have been albino, he was slightly built and dressed in faded denim and a black jacket, and he looked like you could trust him. Children’s laughter followed me as my younger brothers and sisters capered toward the playground, joy in their sparkling eyes and an agility only a child can achieve in their pumping limbs. I grinned as I watched them, felt their joy. The man on the bench turned his gaze toward the kids a gentle smile brightened his face.4
It was as I was watching them that I saw the dark man, standing in the shadows of the tree populated boundary of the park. His clothes were like something out of a vampire novel- black leather trench coat, black jeans and t-shirt, biker boots and dark sunglasses- his hair was long but not scraggly, an his skin was bronzed gold. He looked dangerous, not safe like the golden haired man. I kept him in the corner of my eye as I sat on a bench. The golden haired man looked away from the kids and came over.5
“G’day, I’m Simon” he greeted me in a friendly fashion, pale hand held out in silent offering.6
“Rebecca” I replied and we shook hands and struck up a conversation. It wasn’t long before the kids came up.7
“Big Bec, I need to go to the toilet” announced Annabelle, the youngest.8
“So do I!” Exclaimed Joshua and Rosie at the same time, their eyes sparkled from their recent play. I looked over to the toilet block, it wasn’t far. 9
“Do you think you can go over yourselves?” I asked, lips pursed, brows raised. They nodded. 10
“Ok…” I watched them scamper through the playground to the toilet block, teasing, as they ran. I turned back to Simon to find he wasn’t there. I shrugged and waited.11
Five minutes later the kids had not come out, and not a sound came from the block. I stopped breathing.12
My heart pounding out a tattoo, my eyes searched frantically for the kids hoping they’d come out and were playing already. Josh was always quick, but he would have waited for the girls. I leapt from the bench not seeing them and, striding quickly to the square cement block, started calling.13
“Josh! Rosie! Bells!?” frantic, I was running.14
Silence.15
I reached the entrance to the girl’s toilets, thick silence filled the air, and warning pricked my consciousness. I called again, and my voice echoed around the silent ablutions. Fear made it hard to breath, my heart pounded to the point where I felt it would break through my chest cavity.16
I stepped inside, half blinded from being outside, into darkness. 17
Splash! Squelch. The wet sound of water in the entrance made me cringe. I continued my progress, the way was only dimly lit, and I wondered that Rosie would have come in here, afraid as she was of the dark.18
The creak of a door hinge made me still, a hand on the wall. I flinched back then finding the wall wet. My eyes had adjusted and the walls looked an off yellow colour, splatters punctuated the far left corner of the room, they covered the wall and the last cubicle; the cubicle whose door creaked as if pushed by a strong breeze though there was none. What could have been mud was running down the walls. I looked at the wet floor, but it was to dark to see.19
“Josh? Rosie? Bells?” my voice quivered. 20
Silence.21
“C’mon guys! This isn’t funny!” I strode towards the end cubicle, my heart still pounded. Wet splatters marked my progress across the floor as I reached the door and pushed timidly. It didn’t move. 22
Stiff hinges, I concluded, pushing harder to opening it. The walls of the cubicle were smeared and the stuff on the walls outside covered every square inch. 23
It was blood.24
My mouth opened in a silent scream as I gazed at the bodies of two of my siblings, vaguely I heard someone screaming their names.25
“Joshua! Rosemary!” agonised horror resonated through the banshee like shrieks. 26
The door moved again and I looked behind it, little Annabelle was hooked to the back of the door by her clothes, eyes glazed with horror, paralysed by fear. She made no sound.27
My arms went around her as I took her off the hook and bolted from the cubicle. Blood on the floors, I realized dimly, hysterically.28
At a roar behind me I turned in the entrance, Annabelle cradled in my arms, head buried in my chest. I collapsed to my knees as Simon roared out of the toilet block, a bloody butcher’s knife clutched in his fist. He ran at me.29
To kill me, I recognized.30
A dark shadow raced across my vision then, and a howling wail of animal agony erupted from Simon; the dark man stood in front of me, arm raised. A guns retort echoed loudly in the once silent park. A park now filled with flashing lights and wailing sirens.31
And my screams.32
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Comments
1 - 14 of 14
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I liked it. Of course with irony, it's hard for me not to like something. I'm not much of a fan of horror, but I liked that you didn't go into to much depth with the gore. It was more about the suspense than anything, which I enjoy. Good job.
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thanks, glad you enjoyed. it wasnt a very nice dream lol.
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Interesting, but confusing at the same time. But I think the confusion added to the nightmare feel. The descriptions were very vivid, especially in the toilet scene and the pace of the story was perfect. I liked how the setting shifted dramatically from the park to the toilets and how the mood darkened - that really made everything feel very thriller like. I loved it, it was so vivid it almost felt real. Excellent job
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also, as one person pointed out, don't forget smells. your olfactory sense has the most direct link to your memory, and thereby the most visceral effect to readers, of any of the senses. describing the smells makes it easier to put a reader IN the story as they read it. remember that.
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heya, thanks.
yeah i might go back through it but it was mant to be 1,000 word limit... its so hard staying within those limits.. damn it.
cheers!
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good turnabout Bells! great way to toy with the reader's expectations! and i like the morals of this story. you know, "don't judge people on appearance alone." and "always carry as many weapons as possible while carefully maintaining situational awareness." okay, so the second one might not have been your intended moral, but i'm taking it as such anyways.
great write Bells!
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A nice way to update the old urban tales of strangers and what things may occur. The descriptions where excellent. The part where Rebecca cannot find the children was very well done, and you could nearly feel your own chest pounding. It was frantic and frightening. This would make a great short film.
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G'Day, first thanks for reading this one, i actually wrote it in less then two hours in an exam for english.
it was a real heart pounder writting it actually.
two. i Am Rebecca... this was a part of a dream, slightly modified, that i had a few weeks ago.
anyways, cheers and thanks again
Hunter
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Improving all the time
A good tale, with a moral about stranger danger.
Your descriptions are getting better.
A few run-on sentences that could be shortened or re-written.
You kept to the thesis.
Watch your punctuation and abbreviations. See if you can identify what needs correcting.
beginning: 3, language: 3, plot: 4, ending: 3, dialog: 2, characters: 3.
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hiya! thanks for reading this.
i shall look into those errors and try to improve on it- it was actually written in less then 2 hours for an englsih exam so yeah.
again thanks
Hunter
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nice
good call i couldn't agree more.beginning: 5, language: 5, plot: 5, ending: 5, dialog: 5, characters: 5.
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Wind Songs Thoughts
Hello Miss Down under;
I trust this note finds you in good health and High Spirit's. You are a good writer. I know it should or may sound odd I really am not into this kind of writing. strangly enough I have been driven to the Breaking point of loseing my own sanity to write the book I have been trying for the last 10 an or better part of 18 years to study an complete. You seam to be one writing just comes and that I could only pray for.
As for any thing I would think i would give to add any just do inhancment to your work of words would be the use of smell and lots of it. The Smell of some thing is one of the strongest memory recall's person has. Try it as you think about what you are writing set a-while out side close your eye's put in some ear plugs and then think about your words you want to use.
like
your blood seens you could discribe the smell of blood iron an Salt...
you was in out house your could discribe the sent of human waist...discribe the sent of the pee
if someone is reading a book or letter does it smell old like from the days when led ink was used...is it new...
The water smelt of lime-stone and old musty leaves rusty iron an rotten eggs..then the use of the color of the water earth tones are a very power thought..any way I will stop boring you...you write better then I do the only reason am able to write is the fact I a computer spell check....ha ha..
You keep up the good work Miss down Under....beginning: 5, language: 5, plot: 5, ending: 5, dialog: 5, characters: 5.
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good story
nice writing keep it up
beginning: 4, language: 5, plot: 4, ending: 4, dialog: 3, characters: 5.
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A good write and not my usual read but, hey i decided to take a walk on the wild side....curiousity killed the cat...but, i'm okay.
beginning: 5, language: 5, plot: 5, ending: 5, dialog: 5, characters: 5.
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