2 of 233

Write now Article Tools

Blank empty eyes stared off into the darkness of a bedroom they could not escape. A soft light from the edges of a heavy curtain lighting a feminine figure, a girl, her face devoid of any coherence. What lay there was a shell, the mind mercifully having fled the nights events again. The cold dead arms that wrapped around her naked flesh chilled her soul. She could move away if she wanted to. Run while it slept. But she would never truly escape. He would chase her to the end of the world, his little doll. His precious little toy.

A single tear trailed from the corner of a wide eye, flashing so much white. Only a memory and a wicked scar that snaked around her body chained her to this resting place. She still remembered that night vividly. The nightmare would chase her as he would, if only she could sleep.

The corpse snuggling her fancied himself her master and she would not disagree. She could only blame herself for this atrocity. The same heart that had brought her to him screamed at her to run. Her brain was more logical. How would she survive in a world she knew not of?

The last lights from the outside faded away, beckoning her to fallow. The cold hand on her abdomen flexed. The mans body shifted against her, pulling her closer to him, nuzzling the back of her neck through her thick hair. The metallic taste of terror coated her tongue.

She had only moved a little, just a little. She hadn't meant to. His body was cold and she had started to go numb from it. She felt his eyes fly wide, and suddenly all she could taste was metal in her mouth, her blank expression denying the terror that filled the room.

"You movedSpike"

His voice was a deep almost painful bass. A long since forgotten attraction. It hadn't been enough. The monsters voice sent shivers down her spine as she fought not to take a ragged breath. Maybe... Maybe if she stilled herself he would think she had passed in the night.

A tear slid down to the thin pillow.

Quicker then the eye could see, his hand tangled itself into her long thick hair and jerked her out of the bed. She didn't try to help herself, if she did he'd just find worse ways to drag her. She went limp and didn't fight as he pulled her across the jagged wood floor, ripped the night before by other creatures of ill repute while she was locked away. For her safety he always said, or her punishment. It was only as she noticed the floor did she realized she was going to be put in the closet again. She struggled.

"No! I don't want to go in the closet! Please!" Her cracked, abused voice tried to sob. She struggled until he jerked her around to face him, to meet his dark amber eyes, and backhanded her casually.

White flowers exploded across her vision and her body went numb. When her vision cleared she was in a crumpled heap in the closet. There was no handle on the inside or outside of the door, and it blended in with the wall seamlessly. Only he knew how to open it.

There was no escape from this hell. This chamber for her protection. A talented toy to be taken out when needed. Tears streamed down her face as she choked on a something a kin to both a sob and a laugh. Locked in the closet, his dirty little secret.

Learn more about this author, Saorla MacNamara.
Click here to send this author comments or questions.

Add your voice

Know something about Short stories: Horror?
We want to hear your view. Write now!