The Unknown

The scythe

the claws

the hockey mask

Do I even dare to ask?

That question we've all heard once before

What is lurking behind this door?

A shriek

a moan

a sound of terror

Will I make a fatal error?

Will the raven scream Nevermore

If I open this creaking door?

The ghost

the monster

the psychopath

Will I face its ghoulish wrath?

Shall I be turned to blood and gore

When I see what's beyond this ancient door?

A breath

a heartbeat

a trembling hand

Has my hourglass run out of sand?

With my feet firmly planted upon the weak wood floor

I turn the knob and I open the door...

D is for Depth

I'm taking part in a blogging challenge where each post is themed off the letters of the alphabet. Today is a tale from the depths of the ocean...


"Command, we have just reached a depth of 35,810 feet and are still diving," said the captain into the radio. "We are now partaking in the deepest manned submarine dive in history."

The Dark Room, part 7

The man sat back down as another, closer still to the boy, stood up. He had a fork in his hand, which he angrily and repeatedly stabbed into the table, creating a dull thud noise. With his free hand, he reached to the lid of the next platter, licked his lips and and lifted it with vigor.

The Dark Room, part 6

The boy could feel himself flipping backwards, and the air rushing by him. Whenever he caught a glimpse of see a circular light above him, and it kept getting smaller and smaller. He righted himself, so his arms and legs were spread in an X shape, and he became aware of the dragon and the raven diving on either side of him.

The Dark Room, part 5

"Flee," the raven whispered to the boy. "Before it's too late."

"Be brave," the dragon said in his other ear.

The Dark Room, part 4

On the other side of that oddly un-assuming door was a dining hall that very much made up for it. It was as long across as a city block, and the table that sat in the center of the hall extended nearly the entire length. It was covered with ornate candelabras, shining silverware and expensive china, fourteen places down either side, and one at each end. At each place along the table there was a solid wood chair with a tall back, and all up and down they were carved with images of monsters devouring children and demons torturing them, and phantoms sucking their souls out. As the boy approached the chair closest to him, he could make out more of the terrible details engraved in the dark ancient wood. He leaned in to examine the horrible art and it made him uneasy.

The Dark Room, part 3

He climbed lower, slower, deeper into the depths of the old dying dark house. The stairs spiraled counter-clockwise downward and were very steep. Every ten steps or so, there was a torch mounted on the wall that feebly flickered a weak orange glow, but they all seemed to have given up trying to keep the shadows at bay centuries ago. The boy went down, down, down. Spiralling into the depths of the house. He wished to leave the staircase, but there were no doors, no windows, no escape. Only the hope that there was a bottom, and that the bottom wasn't worse than the top.

The Dark Room, part 2

The feet of the boy's pajamas shuffled silently across the deep grey rug. The painted eyes that lined the walls seemed to follow the boy as he walked past them, and he felt like he was shrinking. He set his eyes on the end of the hallway that he walked toward, but it seemed to be moving ever farther from where he was.

The Dark Room, part 1

The boy woke up.

The room, like the sheets of the unfamiliar bed he found himself in, and like the curtains of the dusty windows, and the wooden panelling of the walls, was dark. Jet. Raven.

The Strange Casefiles of Horatio Morgan, Chapter 7

For the previous chapters in the series, click here.

"Lovely night, isn't it, Ferris?" Horatio asked his surly companion as the strolled the gas-lit streets of London.

"Quite," Ferris said distractedly.

Epidemic

From the journal of Grant Elliot:

September 25th:

School was boring today, as usual. Nothing exciting to report. News says there's a pretty serious disease outbreak in Boston, which is near Grandma and Grandpa's house. Hope they're healthy.

Obsidian Mirror, pt 6

Epilogue, one week after Zee's incarceration:

"Alright, you're cleared to enter, professor," says the guard. The door groans as he unlatches the steel lever and pushes the door in. Professor Hyne enters the cell.

Obsidian Mirror pt. 5

"So explain to me what's been happening to you, Zelophehad," the psychiatrist says.

I'm back in the prison. I'm in a straight jacket and I'm chained to the wall. There are no windows.

Obsidian Mirror, pt. 4

I walk with the couple re-clothed in extra garments they had with them. They were old hippies that were on a long camping trip out in their cabin. They offered to feed and clothe me for a few nights, or until I can figure out what happened to me lat night.

Obsidian Mirror, pt. 3

The next morning:

I yawn and stretch out my arms without opening my eyes. I hear birds singing and leaves rustling outsi...

I open my eyes.

I'm laying in damp grass in a dense forest. Concrete walls are now fir trees, iron bars are now dew-kissed bushes.

Where the hell am I?

The Obsidian Mirror, pt. 2

"What's going on...?" I mumble to myself, my knees and hands shaking.

The doorbell rings. I stumble to the door and peer through the peephole nervously. Two police officers stood outside.

The Obsidian Mirror

"Hey Zee, you thirsty?" Professor Hyne calls from the adjacent room.
"Yeah, just water is good, thanks," I answer. I lift the unlucky test subject by its pink tail and drop it into a bio hazard container. I pick up my pen and scribble a few quick notes on my clipboard. "Memory-inhibitor serum, trial #549, failed. Cause: lethal within one month."

A Blur of Black. A Splash of Red.

I got home pretty late last night and tried to get this done last night, but kept falling asleep after a few paragraphs. Sorry for the tardy update...

The clouds parted, and the ghostly white eye of the night sky blazed ominously across the rain-soaked pavement. Sounds of dogs barking and howling could be heard.

Frozen Fear, Part 5

Far North of the Arctic Circle:

"Are you feeling better now sir?" the security officer asked Hal.

Hal stood up slowly from his doubled over position. A pile of vomit steamed on the ground in front of him and splattered on his boots. He coughed and spit a few times and cleared his throat. Finally reaching the full upright position he took a deep breath and turned to face the security officer.

Frozen Fear, Part 4

Far North of the Arctic Circle:

"You just left him there alone?" Diana asked the security officer irritably.

"Yeah, why wouldn't we?" he replied.

"He's the one who killed Barry! He went and had breakfast with Hal and I before going to see you! If he was really that concerned, he would've gone straight to you!" Diana yelled.

"Oh god," the officer gasped, "Let's go!"

Diana and the security officers took off sprinting across the snow towards the command building. They arrived and Diana pulled at the door.

"Damn it!" she yelled. "He locked himself in there!"

"Move aside." The head security officer input a code on the keypad next to the door. Diana heard a hydraulic hiss and the door groaned and opened like a hungry steel mouth. The security officers drew their guns and moved quietly inside.

"Stay here," the head officer told Diana. She nodded and he dashed into the building.

Diana stood motionless, leaning against the outside wall. She could hear nothing for longer than she could bear. Finally, there was noise from inside.

A sickening crack.

A blood-curdling scream.

A metallic thud.

The shattering of bones and tearing of flesh danced with cries of agony in a horrifying symphony of violence. The orchestra of death played its macabre melodies in torturous time. Diana trembled and cried as the blunt bass bashed and the painful percussion played. Eventually the sinister song climaxed in a brutal twisting of metal, screams and splattering.

It was silent.

Diana curled in a terrified ball on the ground next to the building, and sobbed into her arms.

CRUNCH!

Diana looked up from her tears. She didn't know what she saw. But she knew that Clark was not the killer.

"You look like you've suffered enough. I shall make it quick."