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27 - Echo

The Siblings were annoyed, especially the left one, she had taken so much time and effort to figure out a new name for herself and now it was gone, how do names die twice? The Right one couldn’t help but laugh a little at that thought causing the Left to glare without heat, the Siblings seldom spoke these days, they avoided the others the best they could and had no need to verbally communicate with each other. Whatever the hell took them decided to be so typical with them, oh the twins with weird creepy twin powers, how creative.

The two shook their heads, no need to dwell on it too much, they are what they are and there is nothing to be done about it. They were taking a stroll in the City. They seldom left their rooms so perhaps whatever grabbed them decided it was alright for them to leave from time to time, it’s not like they did anything like that chain smoking bitch did to them so their freedom confused them.

They got weird looks as they walked down a street that seemed to call to them, something wanted them out and well… even before all this the Siblings tended to seek things out they shouldn’t, the feeling led them to an apartment complex with a familiar figure on one of the balconies, ugh, she seemed to be speaking to someone before glancing down at them, seemed to say something before fading into smoke, as she always does.

“So what brings you two here” the Singer asks, smile almost visible in her tone “we don’t know, but we hopefully won’t be here long” The Siblings glared and the Singer must admit, those two had a good glare, but the echo-y effect of their voice always made her laugh a little “what have you been avoiding little old me?” “yes” the deadpan tone doubled was funny to the chain smoker. “Come on, this isn’t all bad I mean eternal life is fine don't you think?” The Siblings just stared at her their heads tilting simultaneously. “Is it eternal, or until it is bored of us? If it was eternal there would be more people from the days of old in the Halls wouldn’t there?” The Siblings had put a lot of thought into this as Left had always feared the concept of eternal life, Right scolds that that fear would actually make it more likely the Jester seemed to take enjoyment, or the closest they had to it from their fears. Left coincides with that thought as the Singer responds “I guess that could be true, so why not enjoy what we have?” “You mean being reduced to nothing?” “Exactly, being someone is boring, being the Singer is so much more fun”

The Siblings sigh in exasperation, turning around they really don’t want to deal with her right now, they hear a blow behind them as smoke moves past them materializing the Singer again, who has a playful pout on her face “really? Not even a goodbye?” The twins are tempted to just attack her, but they know that the Singer is stronger than them, a fact that frustrates them to no end “please leave us alone” “but I am responsible for you am I not?” “which is why we want you to leave” the anger in their voice was almost boiling and they walked past her again.

The Singer just stood there watching them leave shaking her head “such boring little creatures, Static don’t be anything like them ok” out of the lights a figure appeared, only real visible feature being it’s smile and painted on tear marks who nodded “good, hopefully if you get your voice you’d be a good conversationalist.

#alice writes #spooktober #writing

26 - Abyss

so... I missed a few days, I will likely do the 24 and 25 prompts at some point, mental health is a bitch you know?

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The figure opened their eyes, where are they? Who are they? Looking around the figure sees nothing, completely empty if they didn’t know better they’d say that they are floating. They decided walking around might be the best way to go about this, trying to figure out what was going on.

After walking for, well they couldn’t tell you, a long time? Either way they couldn’t be sure they were moving, surely they’d hit a wall or something right? But no matter what they just saw the darkness, though that didn’t seem quite right, it felt like darkness but they could see their body if they looked down, though it did look blurry, which was frustrating, it was like all sense of self had been ripped away, they knew nothing and it was killing them.

The worst thing is that they knew that they had a whole life, they knew that they had experienced something, but they couldn’t say anything about it, who were they, why was this happening, why them? They continued their walk, hoping that they were actually moving, trying to recollect anything about themselves as they did. Name? Nothing, no letters or anything, ok what about gender? Surely they would know that, but… no there was nothing, their fashion sense? Well they were wearing clothes, but it was blurry when they tried to look into it. Were they athletic? Maybe... after all they were still walking, but what if they weren’t moving and just thought they were?

Tears fell down their face as they just continued walking, who are they? Who are they?? WHO ARE THEY?? They screamed or at least tried to but no sound came out, of course there was no sound they couldn’t have anything about themselves known did they? They didn’t think someone could have their self taken from them so strongly but here they were.

They assumed that it had been weeks now, just walking they didn’t sleep, they didn’t eat there was nothing, grabbing their arm they noticed that they weren’t losing weight either, at least they weren’t fading away or something, but… shouldn’t they be mad by now? They felt a few moments where they wanted to snap but it was like something calmed them down every time. Like they weren’t allowed to change? They think there must be something watching, or maybe it’s just hope. They know that other people exist but they can’t recall what another person looks like, after all they can’t even recall their own form, people had… two hands, two legs, a head and something that connects all of them together, yes that makes sense, they feel their lips twitch upwards, a smile, yes that’s what those are called, though it feels out of place. Do you usually smile when you have water leaking down your… face? There is another word they swear. What is going on

They stop, or assume they do, their limbs aren’t moving at least, they hear something? Where is it coming from? There is actually something to hear? Sound! they could laugh, wait… that’s what this is, they were laughing, they had made a sound, they just continued to laugh, the first sensation other than their own thought and a door opened in front of them, they had a mission to do.

The Singer is at her usual hunting ground as she hears a creeking sound behind her. “Oh wasn’t expecting one of your lot to be here so soon” she turned around to see a spectral door opening. Out of the door came a figure, it was like it was made out of static, not electricity just static, it didn’t make sense, though the Singer could see a twisted smile and tear tracks on the static figure clearly. “Oh a newcomer, you have a name yet?” The Figure tilted her head at the question. “I guess you don’t, but don’t worry you will eventually, I’m guessing it will be something unoriginal like ‘the Static’ or something you’ll figure it out, why were you sent to me though?” the Singer lights up a cigarette looking at the figure before shrugging “I guess we’ll see”

#alice writes #spooktober #writing

22/23 - Lock/Door

Labyrinths are strange, they come in all shapes and sizes and well, if you think about it what is a labyrinth if not an escape room, of course a lot of people hear me say that and give me a deadpan look, but seriously think about it they are similar interactive puzzles that have the goal of escaping. So when I heard about the place that decided to combine the two to an extent I was fascinated.

It sort of worked as a horror game simulator where you were put in a hallway filled with doors of all kinds, only some were locked and you had to find the keys to them. And some doors lead to dead ends even after the puzzle. It sounded so much fun, and it had good reviews so I knew I had to try it. It was a one person only escape room which was strange given the huge size but hey, who am I to judge? though it was a pain to get a reservation but eventually I managed it.

The place was normal, a building between a bank and grocery store, I wondered how a labyrinth of that size would even fit into it, but seeing the stairway down as I entered the building answered some of my questions, still strange but an underground room wasn’t too farfetched to me, a part of me wonders if that was my first red flag but this place had glowing reviews even before it made this escape room (escape hallway?) so I feel like my lack of caution was understandable.

There seemed to be a spooky theme when it came to this place in general which made my assumption of the room being horror game inspired stronger, the reception was gloomy with some cartoony gore decals and some of those sheet ghosts, really the only truly scary thing was the receptionist, they had a mask on it had no real distinct features, no eyes, or anything but a wide smile, it kinda unnerved me, also seemed to have an optical illusion aspect to it as when I entered the hallway it looked like the smile widened.

The hallway itself was… sterile I think fits best in this situation the walls were white and so were the doors and you could only hear the humming of the fluorescent lights, I started trying the doors and lo and behold a lot of them were locked, I’m not going to lie something about all of this, I think they call it liminal? Freaked me out, but hey I spent money on this and the off putting atmosphere felt like it was intentional so I carried on.

The first room I could actually enter was so different from anything else, you know those christmas movie fireplace living rooms with a large one man sofa? It was like those only without the Christmas decorations of course. I looked everywhere for a key in there, without turning everything on its head of course, that would be poor manners, after all people had to clean this place between guests and a place this big likely required a lot of cleaning. But sadly I found nothing at my first glance, well except for a safe located in the fireplace but I needed the code to it and given the size of the place I doubt that the code was located in that room, so off I went to find another unlocked room.

It was one room after another, all had drastically different themes, even a grave yard one that seemed to actually have a light breeze, I assumed it was an air flowing machine thing, but what did I know, there were obvious keys and hidden ones, what frustrated me beyond end is that despite all the rooms I entered what codes I found or anything like that there was nothing that could be put into the safe I mentioned earlier, I don’t know why that was what I focused so hard on, but I just had to know.

It was then where I suppose I should’ve noticed that I’d been in the hallways for way longer than I should’ve been allowed to, I mean the website said like three hours, but for some reason I just didn’t, it was strange, I didn’t notice when I got hungry or tired, I know I got like that at some point, I must have. I just needed to find the code to that god forsaken safe, it wasn’t even about the escape anymore.

The longer this journey went the stranger things seemed, everything felt so empty yet all of the different rooms (yes even the grave yard) felt lived in, like I was trespassing, the only room that didn’t feel like that was the fireplace room, that one almost felt like home, which was likely a part of my… I feel like mania is the best word to describe it, was so strong.

It was only when I realized that the hallways had changed where I started to realize that things were not normal. The sterile hallways had turned into what looked like those fancy hallways you see in hotels each door now holding plates with faded out names on them. I could still open some doors but I stopped finding keys to others, it was baffling.

I had also noticed that my arms seemed skinnier than usual, and yes, that I was famished and I was ready to fall asleep like two days ago. It was uncomfortable. I felt like I was dying so I did what felt right to me. I went back to the fireplace room, it still felt homely and I felt like I belonged, I I sat down on the sofa and was ready to pass out, but my brain felt an itch, something felt wrong, but oh so right and I looked back into the fireplace and saw the safe, I had a dumb idea, this place felt like it belonged to me almost so I decided to try my birthday as a code and it opened, and inside was a map and the words “you’re welcome ~The Explorer” written on it.

I followed the map and found myself back at the reception area of the place, feeling disorientated, the receptionist despite still wearing that creepy smiling mask seemed surprised to see me but I just shook my head and left, I wanted to get home, colour me surprised when I went back to my apartment and found that someone else lived there now, I had somehow been in that blasted labyrinth for three months! It was then I noticed another thing on the map that I still had with me.

A phone number, your phone number, though it did say that the phone number belonged to “the Detective” but given the hostility that name invoked in you I suspect that it has something to do with whatever the hell was behind the labyrinth Miss Olivia, does that explain everything? I know that you’re recording this and I want to know what the hell is going on, I don’t care if I’m in any danger.

My name? It’s uhm… Eli… no Aus… not that’s not right either, what is it… title? Olivia what do you mean I don’t have a title? I’m just a mystery nerd, is that enough of a title for you? Fine I’ll say something ok here we go… My title is the Explorer… wait that doesn’t make sense, that’s the thing on the map here look, it’s what got me out, I can’t have done that! Is this why I can’t enter your apartment? This title thing? I’ll figure this out and you can count on my help ma’m

#alice writes #spooktober #writing

21 - Shatter

The Librarian sighed, she loved her library as she had built it from the ground up, but it was tiring sometimes. The library was built to be a safe haven for those in need of it a place to escape into the fantasy worlds just like she had needed when she was young, and it mostly was, but closing time was starting to get to her, not because she needed to kick anyone out, hell she had blankets for those who needed to stay overnight for any reason.

The issue with closing is that for the last few months a person had just started standing outside the library, their face hidden except for a smile that followed her every move, it was easier to ignore during the day when there were people around and whatever was watching just blended into the background with the other people but the more isolated she was the more obvious the figure was.

The Librarian knew she was the only one who saw it, it wasn’t the first time something like that had happened, she still remembers the event that made her lose her name, her eyes look over to etched symbols hidden in plain sight, runes that resembled letters being used in the words that marked out sections of the library and the other symbols she could hide in wall decors.

She made this place a safe haven even if it had an unfortunate side effect, she couldn’t leave either, just etching those runes and the rituals had hurt her, half of her torso looked like it was made out of broken glass, scars shouldn’t be that clean but you shouldn’t lose your name either. The Librarian had long since given up trying to understand any of what happened, now all she does is try and keep people safe.

After locking everything up the Librarian moved her a chair to sit down on so she could watch the figure, what was it’s deal, it had already taken all she had, she just stared into the smile, the rest of the face was hidden but the Librarian knew that didn’t matter, she was pretty sure that the figure saw through the smile and nothing else.

The stare off lasted a few minutes, The Librarian just sat there while the figure stood with only a piece of glass separating them. The figure broke first leaning forwards and touching the glass, a shattering sound was heard and The Librarian smiled watching the figure shatter into pieces like the brittle glass it had touched. Her words seemed to still be holding up and with this thing taken care of, for now at least, it or something like it would return in a few days like always hoping for her to break like she made them do. She returns to her desk opening up a worn out notebook with the letters V_ _ _O_ _ A written on them while the rest is faded. She’d get her name back and she now knew it began with a V

#alice writes #spooktober #writing

20 - unquiet

The Victim stood up, rather confused, he had just been talking a stroll in the forest, something had called for him, told him that he had to go there today only to… he puts his hand to his neck, yup that’s still a bleeding wound and whatever told him to go the woods is gone, was he possessed? No that makes no sense, neither does surviving a cut this deep to the throat or voices that lure someone to the forest.

The Victim has a strong feeling that he wasn’t supposed to survive this ordeal, that whatever had dragged him to this blasted forest had meant for him to die which the Victim thought was rude. Looking over himself he noticed that he had three really deep cuts on his abdomen, that was excessive. The Victim thought he was sure that the throat slash was enough to kill him to begin with, he did have a distinct memory of hearing about a killer that did that to their victims, why would a weird voice make him a serial killer victim?

He considers going home but realizes that the fact that he is bleeding with really obviously fatal wounds would make him stand out and probably screamed at. The victim realized with a start that he was a lot more calm about all of this than he should be… was he a zombie? He tries to find a pulse and there is nothing, how strange. The Victim goes to his pocket opening his family locket, he always kept it on him and was shocked that whoever killed him hadn’t taken it, so they just kill for the thrill of it then? The picture in the locket was as always a photograph of him as a child, with a teddy bear that had an unnatural smile on it, almost like it had human teeth. He remembered that teddy bear, it helped him when he felt lonely. He had been missing it lately.

The Victim wonders where to go now, maybe he should become some sort of a forest legend, that would be funny, does he still need to eat? This is the most exciting thing to ever happen to him, especially with how boring and mundane his life had been, maybe getting killed was a blessing in disguise.

He walked around the forest, noting that he was indeed leaving a trail of blood behind him, he’d have thought he would run out of it at this time, but nope he was gushing like a waterfall why did that freak him out more than the fact he was dead. He found a cave and decided to rest there, it was a quiet night and maybe this weird non dead thing would end tomorrow and he wouldn’t wake up. He was surprisingly apathetic about whether or not he would wake.

Opening his eyes the Victim could hear the chirping of birds and he was still in that cave, so it hadn’t been a dream, he moved his hand to his throat and felt… twine? Some sort of cheap string had been used to close the wound and what might have been cotton? Trying to push out, the same with his abdomen slashes, if his heart still beat it would probably be racing so he was thankful for that, looking around he found something he hadn’t seen in some time, standing on its hind legs was a familiar teddy bear, human like smile and all. It reached a fluffy paw towards me and I took it, might as well right? And together we walked deeper into the cave

#alice writes #spooktober #writing #cw blood #so much blood

19 - Relic

With the tome she had acquired in front of her, Olivia with her laptop open to her side worked on translating it, her hand kept twitching towards her pack of cigarettes, but she had no time for that, she felt like if she went to smoke now something would go wrong. She had found an expert of sorts, the only spoke through the phone as this expert warned that if Olivia came too close to her she would be harmed, and given the crashing she kept hearing in the background and the heavy breathing from her phone, Olivia considers herself lucky for having headed the other persons warning, of course vocalizing this had only made the informant just laugh mirthfully.

It was from this strange unfortunate woman that the tome which was inscribed in all sorts of languages was acquired, she was happy about it, she learned a bit about the creature behind all this, nothing much but she had a name for the smiles that kept appearing, or a title it had a few but the one that seemed to pop up ‘He who smiles’ ‘the Giggle’ ‘Joy’ or just ‘the Smile’ but the most common was The Jester which appears to have been coined during medieval times.

Olivia was frustrated at the limited knowledge she was able to gleam, given that her life had turned into a strange horror story she had been hoping for a macguffin or something but in her days of translating and brainstorming there was nothing, she had found a ritual to keep it’s influence away from an area but still required occasional cleansing, there was a warning that one might get cursed in some way after the ritual as payment for the protection. ‘Like mass misfortune for the firstborn child in the family’ her informant had muttered under her breath. So she was on edge if she wanted to do that just yet.

For now she worked on etching some runes on her walls, she had thankfully bought her flat after her disappearance and wasn’t still renting. It was little protection, but protection nonetheless. Finally giving in to her urge she puts everything on pause and goes to her balcony she really needs a smoke real bad.

There was a woman on her balcony, smiling with her own cigarette in her mouth “detective” she greeted Olivia who scowled “Olivia please” “whatever you say detective” the woman took a deep breath of her own cigarette “how did you get up here?” Oliva growled to which the smoking woman just smiled wider at her as if that would answer everything and annoyingly to Olivia it did. “Better question, why are you here?” The woman blows out some smoke that circles her strangely, only further confirming it to Olivia that this woman was not normal.

“Where strangeness happens I go, and this place is filled with strangeness Detective, quite the magnet” the woman put her cigarette back into her mouth “oh where are my manners, I’m the Singer, pleased to meet you” the now titled woman grins and leans back towards the balcony wall. Olivia just glares at the woman “what do you mean magnet?” “Well, you see I can feel that I’m not wanted inside, the wards are quite interesting Detective but well, haven’t you heard the saying? People want what they can’t have and you even just after escaping were quite the morsel” the Painter drags the rest of her cigarette before seemingly fading into the smoke with a smile “just a warning Detective” Olivia just stood there glaring at the disappearing form of the Painter “just you wait creature, I will figure you out”

No longer craving her smoke she headed back inside, back to her research she goes, she will find anything a relic or a safer ritual something, even if it’s the last thing she ever does, this Jester will not best her again.

#alice writes #spooktober #writing

17/18 - Shadow/spirits

The Killer smiled as she followed her prey, she had been tracking this one for weeks, not that he knew, if there was one thing the killer did right it was stalking, this one was unimpressive in general, real robot wake up, work, fall asleep honestly killing him might be a mercy for him. So when he deviated from his schedule the Killer knew that it was time, the soon to be victim had called in sick to his job and then went on a walk in the woods, something that he’s never done while she was watching him, it was almost like he was asking to be killed.

The forest in question was dark, so it was easy to hide in the shadows, looking for the right time to strike. The killer's smile just kept widening as she got closer and closer, still hidden of course, her knife out, readying a strike, she always found the knife the best weapon, more personal in a way, anything else takes the joy out of it, don’t get her started on guns, sure they were effective but gods were they boring and cold, no style no finesse just shooting someone and your gone, she doesn’t like it.

Closer and closer the Killer crept until she jumped, clean cut on the prays throat, she’d done this before after all, and then her signature three horizontal slashes on the abdomen, it didn’t really mean anything but she enjoyed reading through forums trying to theorize what they meant, true crime spaces were fascinating to her, so I guess if there was any meaning it was that, the first time it had been on accident, she wasn’t seasoned I mean you don’t just kill someone perfectly the first time, but apparently it had looked purposeful enough to people so she lent into it.

She is willing to admit that being covered like this is fascinating, if only people stopped assuming she was a dude then things would perfect, though it made linking the murders back to her less likely it’s still fun, but she can’t exactly say “hey I’m a woman” that’s how you make a mistake that leads to you being caught and she has made sure to not be obvious, she people watches to find her victims making sure to not have a pattern, though that in itself might be a pattern but she digresses, another clean kill.

The Killer smiles to herself as she slinks back into the shadows, time to head back home, not right away, probably stop at a motel or two, just in case, you can never be too careful. Now came her least favorite part, she doesn’t think it’s guilt, as it’s just an intense feeling of being watched, this usually happens for a up to a few hours to days after she takes a life, it’s more frustrating than grating on her conscience, if she even has one to begin with, she isn’t sure, sure she wouldn’t hurt like animals, that icks her out but she doesn’t really feel any real guilt after killing, unless that’s really what that watching feeling is? Though the Killer feels like she would know if she felt guilty wouldn’t she?

She checked into a motel in some small town that was like two hours away from the crime scene. She had thankfully parked her car far away, even if that meant an extra hour of walking, but relying on the adrenaline rush that happened after each kill really helped.

The feeling of being watched was stronger than usual, it was frustrating, she felt like she was being filmed or something, like someone or something was inspecting her thoroughly and intimately which she was not a fan of. She looked around a small bit of paranoia starting to build up, had someone actually seen her this time? Was she actually being tailed this time? Or had she been watched from the beginning and whoever was stalking her like she stalked her was finally deciding to reveal themselves. Ok, the Killer thought to herself, it’s nothing to be worried about.

The room seemed darker than the usual motel room to her, like the shadows of darkness were itching closer to her covering more of the room than usual, that made no sense, oh no was she finally losing it completely? She hoped not, she decided that the best thing to do was just lie down and fall asleep.

After like 20 minutes she gave up and opened her eyes again, sleeping seemed to not be in the cards tonight, was she actually feeling guilty? Was she being tell-tale heart-ed? She looked around and noticed something, the room was bitched black except, there were pairs of… white circles? On the walls, almost looking like ghost eyes, like white soulless voids in the darkness, oh she had finally fully lost it.

She stood there staring to the void and the void seemingly stared back, this was uncanny and uncomfortable, for some reason the Killer started feeling like she was being comforted, she could swear that she felt gentle hands caress her in a parental like way, the eyes combined into one giant pair and a glowing mouth appeared under them, twisting up to a smile. For some reason the Killer felt like whatever this smile was, it was offering her a home, a place to stay and with a smile of her own the Killer accepted it.

#alice writes #spooktober #writing #cw knife #cw murder

16 - Whisper

I always feel like I’m being watched, have been for years. I’ve talked to people about it in the past, have been diagnosed with all kinds of stuff, gotten medication but of course none of it ever worked, at some point I decided to stop talking to people, before I ended up as some sort of marvel in the psychological world, don’t want to be the Fraud of paranoia you know? I know he was the doctor and not the patient but that doesn’t matter here.

It’s annoying when I’m walking home, I’m mostly used to it I mean it’s been a thing since I was 12, it has become mundane over the years but given the recent disappearances around the city not being able to tell if I’m actually being watched or if it’s my usual sense kinda freaks me out, at least when I get home I’ll be able to relax.

I open the door to my apartment, it’s dark as always, windows draped with bed covers and the usual, I lock my door and the other 4 locks attached to it. I said I was used to it, but I still need some comfort, it doesn’t ease the feeling but it still helps.

My bedroom was cold, colder than usual at least, which was uncomfortable but I probably left the radiator off. I plopped into my bed and put the duvet over my head. I closed my eyes, that’s when it happened

“Hey” a whisper, it was almost silent like it had just the wind but I was alert “hey, come over here” I enjoyed the comfort of my duvet cocoon so I didn’t move, I pretended to be asleep not dealing with whatever the fuck that was, rule number 1 don’t answer the weird voice.”aren’t you tired of it? Of being watched? Come here and I will help you” the whisper is getting harsher. “I know you’re awake” With a sigh I decide to break rule number 1 “why are you?” I whisper, still hidden in my cocoon. “A friend” That felt almost like a joke, I sadly had none of those, they said I was ‘too paranoid’ or something. “I apologize for not quite believing that” I answer, voice still low.

“You just need to come here, and you’ll believe it Hidden” huh? “Hidden? What does that mean?” I ask without thinking about it “it’s you of course Hidden” I actually get out of my cocoon at that, sitting up in my bed “I have a name and it certainly isn’t Hidden” I say a confused tinge in my voice, the Whisper laughs, the laugh is raspy almost like this thing hadn’t been that loud for years “oh do you, then pray tell what is it?” I stare at the ceiling trying my best to not search for the source of the Whisper “well it’s Su… no it’s… it begins with an S I’m sure” for some reason the fact I wasn’t sure about it didn’t unnerve me, I feel like I should be scared or heartbroken, but knowing that my name was nowhere to be found was rather calming actually.

“Well then Hidden, I guess you don’t know” the Whisper chuckles, the voice feels like it’s wrapping itself around me like some sort of serpent. How do words do that? I finally look for the voice, I see a woman with a grin on her face. “Hello” she says, her grin widening unnaturally, almost looking like that theater ‘comedy’ mask, I frown at her “why are you here?” the woman stares at me. “Well I’m looking for the Hidden, and I found her.” “Why do you call me that?” I ask, it’s not that I really hate the title, I'm just confused. The Whisper, why do I call her that? Answers “you want to be away from prying eyes, you want to no longer be there, you want to be hidden without attachments” the Whisper tilts her head “and I want to be seen but not heard, the Whisper and the Hidden are connected” that didn’t feel wrong to me, I stepped closer to her though with every step it feels like my mouth is curving downwards, I’m not sad or anything it just is. “All right Whisper, I’ll follow you, I’m curious” The Whisper gives me her arm to grab and I do, a burning sensation happens, not unpleasant just, burning I feel like a connection is being burned into us.

After whatever that was, the bonding process, we decide to leave our house leaving only bedsheets in the form of a smiley face behind.

#alice writes #spooktober #writing

15 - Mist

The Singer took in a drag of her cigarette, the smoke she blew out almost circling her. It had been a few years since she managed to go outside like this, being stuck made things harder, the fact that the lock got tightened after the Detective escaped was frustrating. The singer sighed, looking at a pair of friends walking, going where she assumed was their home, they looked like siblings. The Singer took another drag in, deciding to walk towards them.

The Siblings were whispering to each other, they had just got home from a game night with their friends, they were… well technically identical twins, but let’s say that a second puberty made them not quite identical anymore, but even then they looked a lot alike. They were whispering to each other about the games they played, and other plans. They noticed though that the weather was getting foggier and foggier. They could barely see anything as the fog looked thick enough to cut through, now the Siblings liked fog but this was something else entirely, they made sure they kept themselves on the sidewalk. Then they saw a strange woman leaning against a wall, despite the fog and mist the woman was strangely visible, as if she was in some sort of bubble protection.

With an inhale the woman spoke “hey, you two look lost” her lips twitched upwards, looking them over. “Want a smoke?” The Siblings shook their heads in refusal “your loss I guess, call me the Singer, it’s what most people do” the Siblings looked confused at her “what do you mean, you don’t have a name?” the painter smiled, they were talking in sync, how cute, were they aware? “I mean I probably do, but does that matter” the Siblings weren’t quite so sure they agreed with that, but everyone had their quirks they guessed. “Also what do you mean ‘lost’ we know our way around this place” the Siblings were annoyed at the idea. “Do you now? All Right then I guess I’ll leave you to it then” The Singer shook her head and walked away disappearing into the mist, taking a final drag of her cigarette, the smoke forming into a smile above her.

The Siblings looked at each other, that was strange, but they decided to shake it off and find their way home. That woman was strange and if she was dangerous it’s not like she could follow them home in this fog, so off they went. The fog seemed to get thicker and thicker with every step towards their home, it was almost hard to move in it, which made no sense, it was just clouds and stuff right. Well either way they found their home so they decided to enter. The door behind them closed and as they were on the other side of it they didn’t notice that a smile was burned into the door.

The Singer looked at the Siblings enter what they thought was their house and shakes her head, it’s not like she likes doing this, she sighs and puts out her cigarette, walking away as the fog dissipates

#alice writes #spooktober #writing

14 - Ruin

Candice looked over her supplies. Flishlights? Check. Extra batteries? Check. Rope? Check. Food bars? Double check. Alright, time to get started. Candice had always enjoyed urban exploring and when she found a ruined castle a few hours away from her city? She had to go there. She drove in her van, she had considered taking a tent, but if it got to the point she needed to sleep, her van should be good enough.

The castle was interesting, extraordinarily gothic in design and a bunch of garg… no wait, candice's friend had gone on a rant about this, they weren’t gargoyles they were grotesques, it didn’t matter in the long run. Candice smiled as she walked towards the castle, rope dangling from her belt, flashlight in hand. The castle looked like something out of a horror novel, it was fascinating, it wasn’t the first creepy ruined castle she’d gone to of course, but it was always fascinating.

It was no surprise to Candice that the hallway was really dark, I mean it was night time and as mentioned before, a weird horror castle. Turning on her flashlight she looked around. The entrance foyer? Was that the word, she wasn’t sure, but it looked extravagant, like something out of a princess movie, she could imagine balls being held here in the past, or maybe it was too small for that, this looked like a castle that would have a ballroom.

She decided to try and find that, a dilapidated ballroom? The pictures she could take of that would be amazing, and if there was a hole in the roof? The moonlight shining into an abandoned ballroom? Her mouth was almost salivating at the idea, the beauty of her potential pictures, she still took others of course, she couldn’t bank everything on a picture that might not even be possible.

Thankfully she did eventually stumble upon a ballroom, or she assumed it was a ballroom, there was a broken chandelier in the center of a mostly empty room, kinda like beauty and the beast actually. Sadly there was no magical moonlight area, but the area looked really hauntingly beautiful regardless. It almost made her want to dance there.

Giving into instincts Candice starts dancing, humming some waltz music she had heard in the past, or she assumed she had given how easily the melody came to her. She smiled in joy as the feeling of bliss came over her. It felt like she was being controlled with strings. She was dancing in ways she didn’t even know she could. It was like fog covered her head as she continued, she never wanted this to end.

Olivia looked over the corpse in front of her, it was hung on a chandelier in an abandoned castle. Strings tied to her arms and legs, the reason she was assigned to this case was due to the evidence in the victims pictures. After coming home she was assigned as the weird spooky cop, something she was more than ok with. So when the pictures on Candice's camera had a bunch of hidden smiling figures there was no doubt. What unnerved Olivia the most is that, she wasn’t sure if the smile on the corpses face had been there when she arrived at the crime scene

#alice writes #spooktober #writing

12/13 - Slime/Haunted

My eye twitched as I looked at the hallway, I had just cleaned it five minutes ago yet here the walls are, covered in some weird goo, this has been a problem for a few days now, you see I work as a night janitor and usually it’s an easy time but recently it’s like something has been following me, it’s like I blink and suddenly everything is gooey, I don’t even know what it is, I wish I could say it’s like blood or something, but no the texture doesn’t quite fit, it’s also a dark purple, but hey, blood can be weird, I’m not a scientist.

I just sigh and clean it up, sometimes I wonder why I bother with it, given that once daylight hits and I go home for some well deserved sleep it stops appearing, makes me think that there is something attached to me or something, I don’t know. I won’t tell anyone, but I’m pretty sure it’s supernatural, now that will probably get me thrown into some sort of ward, but I mean it has to be.

The dark purple goo washes off easily thankfully, what I don’t like is the fact that it stinks. I think the smell is starting to stick to me, recently people have started avoiding getting close to me, I’m a solitary person but it does get annoying you know? But I can’t smell it when I’m off duty.

I finish the hallway and blink… there it is again, this is starting to annoy me, so once more with feeling. This cycle continues for an hour or so, god I hope this isn’t a hallucination, cuz otherwise I probably look like a total neat freak on the security cameras, the ones that I can certainly feel watching me as I clean. It’s probably nothing, but every shift I’ve started feeling them recently, which combined with the goo makes my hair stand on edge.

I look around after cleaning the hallway for the 9th time, the feeling of being watched is really building up right now, I can’t be alone even though I am supposed to be. But there is nothing, absolutely nothing… not even cameras. Where were the cameras, I know they are supposed to be here somewhere. What was going on?

I ran, I’m not ashamed to say that I left my cleaning supplies and ran, maybe I’ll get fired for this but hey, I’m hopefully not screwed if they do, I do have some savings, should tide me over. Of course much to my horror it seems like I can actually see the goo forming this time, it’s horrifying, and surrounding me. The hallways get closer and closer until it completely wraps me up.

The slime covers the Janitor, almost draining him of any fluids and replacing it with its own form. The Slime is glad, as the now green eyed body of the janitor looks to the wall, a smile is etched on it with a knife, the Slime nods at it and continues its journey.

#alice writes #spooktober #writing

11 - Escape

The detective opened her eyes, where was she? The last thing she remembered was that she was smoking and then a smile and then things went blank. She was on a case, yes disappearances, was she one of them now? The Detective takes a look at her surroundings, things seem off, she’s in what looks like a hotel lobby, strange. She investigates the area, noticing that instead of numbers the room doors had something written on them, it looked like names but were too faded to read, how did she know they were names?

The Detective ponders to herself, trying to figure this out, the door she stands in front of, the name starts with a K but the rest is too faded, being the stubborn woman she is, the Detective looks closer, still unable to read anything before she hears laughter behind her, turning to it she sees that there is no one there, on edge she looks back at the name, but now it only spelled ‘the Painter’

Strange wasn’t she working on an artist's case before all of this? It can’t have been the same one, she’d have remembered the victims name wouldn’t she? Just like she remembers her own. The detective startled, what was her name? She remembered her life, she remembered her family and friends, so why can’t she remember her own name? Dread quickly washed over the Detective, was she torn out of existence? That can’t be, she is here she can feel her presence, she can touch this door.

The Detective closes her eyes, ok, there must be a way out of here she just needs to find it, maybe she needs to remember her name? She refuses to give up at least. She opens her eyes and she’s no longer at the hotel lobby, instead she was in a neighborhood, tall concrete towers that obviously had people living in them, yet it felt empty. What was going on? The Detective investigates the area, it looks like a normal city, except there was no one outside, most of the lights in the houses were on so there were people here, but no one was out and about and there were no cars around, actually it was radio silent.

She decided to approach the first door she could find and knock, after a while the door opened, a woman covered in thorny roses opened the door with an uncomfortably large grin, asking what she wanted. Before the Detective could respond the door closed, the woman hadn’t closed it mind you, it just closed. She decided to note that down for later, walking around this boring land once more.

The Detective closes her eyes, was she stuck? No she couldn’t be, she refuses to be. With her eyes still closed she runs, maybe that will work, it was a stupid hypothesis but it might work. Despite her eyes being closed she felt like she could see smiles all around her, calling back to her, telling her to return. The detective knew that she must be on the right track.

Olivia opens her eyes, the sounds of traffic outside her apartment filling her ears, she is back in her office, she’s being stared at, people seem to have been working on emptying it. Other members of the force. Olivia smiles at them, she had a case to crack

#alice writes #spooktober #writing

10 - broken

The Collector spun around her house, she had just gotten a new doll and needed to find a good spot for it, it looked just like her, but in a creepy porcelain, obviously she had to get it when she found it. It didn’t quite fit in with her replicas of haunted dolls throughout the ages, or her different doll or plushie shelves, this one was to be a crowning jewel. The show stopper, well, if she had any people to visit her that is.

The collector didn’t really talk to people, the most interaction she got was with the delivery people, and those cycle out a lot in today's work environment so there wasn’t really anyone for her to make a connection with, she was deathly afraid of the outdoors, and thus just stayed inside, she had a job of course, but thankfully at places where she could work from home, without talking to anyone, payed surprisingly well.

She’d always been like this, her parents tried to get her to live life outside of her room, but whatever activity they made her do ended up with her collecting an aspect of it. She is thankful to no longer have some of those collections, the sport ball collection would’ve taken up way too much space and her mint one had bad memories attached to it. Safe to say her parents failed at their attempts to make the Collector socialize.

But she doesn’t mind it, people hurt other people anyway, all she needed was her collections, all neat and orderly. Which is why finding a place for the doll was so hard, everything had its place but a random doll that sorta looked like her? Where would that go, it’s not like there is a collection of her… wait, her bed! What is a bed if not the pedestal for yourself in a collection, so she went to make a shelf above it, the shelf looked like a replica of her room, her parents tried to get her into carpentry and it worked too well given she could build places for her collections

With the doll in its rightful place the Collector calmed down, everything was perfect. She sat down in her living room and went to find something new to collect. A new set from one of her card games was just released, she could find something there, figure out which of the cards looked the best and their individual costs. She smiled to herself as she went over the card list.

She was distracted when she heard something crash down, the noise came from her room, had she not fastened the shelf well enough? Oh no, was the Doll broken? She ran into her room, looking over and… the shelf was still there, but no doll. No the doll had fallen to the floor somehow, probably bounced on the bed to the floor, but much to the Collectors dismay the doll had cracks on its face, she didn’t collect things for monetary value but it still hurt her to see her newest object broken like that, she gently picked her up again to put her on the bed shelf again. As long as it doesn’t shatter fully it’s still beautiful to her.

The Collector thought that would be all of it but when she went past a mirror she saw something, scarring on her face, actually now that her panic over the doll had faded, she was in so much pain, what the hell had happened? So she looked closer in the mirror and her face looked like broken porcelain almost, it still had the texture of skin but it almost looked like… no.

She ran back into her room where the doll now sat at the edge of the Collectors bed, looking over to the scared woman before jumping off head first. Before the doll hit the floor The Collector could’ve sworn that the doll had a really big smile.

#alice writes #spooktober #writing

8/9 - Howl/Mirror

so I was sick as fuck yesterday so I decided to blend the prompts together.

Mirrors, a gateway to different worlds, or that is what a bunch of people believe, others just think they are mundane objects that help us get ready in the morning, until recently I was the latter, and I’m not even sure if I can say I’m the former either, something… something happened and I’m going to try my best to write it all down here, so here we go.

An account about mirrors written down by me (the name is too faded to read)

It’s frightening actually, thinking about how easily your world view can change, I was never a spiritual person, I mean I never outright denied the existence of ghosts and stuff but you have to admit it’s farfetched. Or it was… anyway, back on track it started a week ago, my last mirror had shattered, not my fault mind you, hosting a party at one's place is always risky but at least it wasn’t the toilet that broke, small mercies. So I needed a new mirror, now I’m not a well off person so I often just thrift and while I figured it would take a while surely I could find a good mirror in some thrift store or another.

It’s not surprising to say that I found nothing for the first few days, I found a few mirrors for cheap but they either looked tacky, like someones elementary school creative projects or were broken in their own way, I was getting really frustrated but I had started looking and by god I wasn’t going to give up until I found a good mirror, I fall into the sunk/cost fallacy a bit too easily but hey, it’s helped me save money in the past. But after four days of searching I was actually considering giving up. But I found something.

I walked past this place, the Howling Wolf, sounded like a freaking bar name but I decided to look inside, and it was a thrift shop, one I’d never heard about but it was a small corner one, so I wasn’t too surprised. Not every place can be a Goodwill or a red cross and honestly this place looked interesting. It was tiny, I felt like I was going to bump into something and break it if I even so much as shifted slightly, the shelves were packed to the brim with random stuff, folded clothes, weird porcelain angel statues (seriously who made so many of those?) and some radios and tvs that were probably super broken.

But then I found it, it was the most over the top mirror I’d ever seen, it looked like it would tell me who was the fairest in the land if I asked, and I just knew I had to have it. Looking at the price tag it was cheaper than I expected, which was nice, I mean that was the reason I went thrifting after all. I looked over to the cashier, not hard to find given the size of the shop and saw that she was looking at me with a small smile, the type of old woman you expect to run a place like that, curly white hair and a grandmotherly aura. I started walking towards her and she just shook her head and told me to look closer at the mirror first, maybe there was a flaw that I had missed? So I followed the ladies' request.

The texture of the mirror looked strange, not the frame or anything but the reflective part, is that just the mirror? Anyway, It was wavy but not in the funhouse mirror kind of way, more like someone had bent it, without it bending, if that makes sense, I reached to touch it and felt something push me. I flew into the mirror ready for my face to hit the surface but that never happened. Instead I was in a forest, no mirror in sight.

I was terrified and confused, what had just happened, I walked around trying to figure anything out, I mean staying in one place wouldn’t have done any good given there was nothing but trees. Eventually I stumbled upon a building, well less of a building and more of a ruin, well less of a ruin and more of a singular brick wall with some floor plans under it. But it had a graffitied smiley face and a message ‘find the mirror, before it finds you’

Well, I will confess that I am not a brave woman, never had been, so I ran, I mean it could only mean one thing right? Something was going to harm me unless I found a mirror, and if it looked anything like the one I went through it had to be easy to spot right? The only sounds were the sounds of my shoes hitting dried leaves, there was no rustling of the trees, no bird calls or anything, for some reason noticing that made me ever more scared, maybe it was knowing that no matter what I was alone, or alone with whatever graffitied that message.

Howling, I had gotten used to the silence and I heard fucking howling. I wanted to cry but I just kept running looking around, the howling sounded like it was coming closer, but that was the only thing I heard, no running or nature being disturbed, just the howling, what the hell was chasing me, thankfully I found the mirror before anything could harm me, I ran through it hoping I wouldn’t just crash into it and…

I was in my house, the mirror from the shop had been set up by someone, not me obviously. Had the lady known where I lived? Did she know I would come to the shop that day, no that makes no sense. But, since then I had this feeling of being watched, like I was being hunted, I try not think about it, I really don’t but today? I had to write this down as when I walked past the mirror I saw a bright red smile painted on it, similar to the one on the wall back then. If I am going to die today, I want people to know my story, to know me name, please remember me, my name is (name to faded to be legible) and I hear howling.

Police report: this was found in an empty house, with no furniture except for the mirror mentioned by the victim, which did indeed have the smile in question. We have sent our best detective on the case, one of the few who came back, hopefully the Detective will figure this out.

#alice writes #spooktober #writing

7 - Thorn

The rose is such a fascinating flower isn’t it, it is probably due to its prevalence in western culture but the fact that it has so many meanings and colours, they can mean everything or nothing but one thing stays consistent, whether the rose is blue, black or red, every rose has its thorns, and yes, so do emotions, love can turn dark, be it platonic or romantic. Every rose given, every bouquet they are in, always comes with the underlying message of the danger lurking underneath, people may not realize it of course, stuck in the romance and beauty of it.

The Botanist was cut out of her musings when the door to her shop opened. It had been a slow day so her mind had drifted as it often did, but yes into the shop came a woman, tall in stature and obviously toned. The Botanist had to pretend to be a functional person and not the disaster lesbian that she is as she greeted her visitor. The woman came to the counter a smirk on her face and she asked for a rose bouquet, nothing unusual, but it was her next request that caught the Botanist of guard, she wanted the bouquet to be in all the rose colours the shop had, now the Botanist enjoyed the language of flowers and often wanted to have fun with that when it came to the bouquets she made.

Shaking her head the Botanist smiled at the Woman, nodded her head and went to work. Of course during the binding of the bouquet she just had to nick her finger on one of the roses, it was a red one, ironic given the colour that was now dripping out of the Botanists finger, she stopped to clean up the wound. What she had not noticed was that the woman had been staring at her the whole time, and when the rose nicked her the woman’s grin turned into a smile and she continued to stare.

if only the Botanist had decided to look back, she’d have noticed the malice that glinted in the woman's eyes, but instead the Botanist just finished her job, minding her own business. The woman paid for it and left, and the Botanist just mused to herself, swooning over the pretty lady that just walked in the moment she could. The rest of her shift was normal, though the area where she had been nicked itched more than what it would usually do, but she thought nothing of it, just finishing her mindless trek through her shift until she could go home.

The Botanist almost whooped in joy once the shift was over, finally the escape from slaving away for the day and she even had the day off tomorrow, a lazy day with ice cream and games was in front of her. She hummed while mindlessly scratching her finger as she walked home, music in her ears. She felt like she was being watched for a bit, but looking around the alleyways and streets were surprisingly empty, no car in sight or anything, so again she just shrugged and went home.

Back in her little apartment the Botanist decided to remove the uniform right away and just jump into bed, maybe read something on her phone or something until she passed out but… in her room, on her bed was a familiar bouquet, and under it, drawn in blood a smile.

#alice writes #spooktober #writing

6 - Chasm

The Gardener was confused, he had been called for a job in a fancy mansion, you see he was a freelancer, he enjoyed it and places it dragged him to, but a mansion like this? They usually had hired staff, gardeners included so why was he called? Well no matter what he was obviously not going to turn the offer down, the offered pay was amazing and it was just a basic hedge trimming job, sure it would take time but what job didn’t.

When the day of the job arrived the Gardener entered his van excitedly. The mansion was an hours drive away which let him put on an audio drama as he drove, the one he was really into now was horror themed about some weird building but that’s not important. What was important is that when he got to the mansion the Gardener, the mansion was almost typically spooky, grotesques littered the fence around it like fierce petrified guard dogs and the mansion itself felt like it belonged in an Addams family tv show, the Gardener was impressed honestly, you really had to commit to it for all of this to work together, he wondered if when he arrived at the door (why was the distance from the fence gate to the manor door so long) that the owner would be dressed in victorian clothing or something, just to complete the look.

Much the silent dismay of the Gardener when he knocked the ornate demonic door knocker the man who opened that door wasn’t some dracula lookalike or anything like that, it was an older gentleman in a sweater vest, slightly hunched stature wearing plaid pants and loafers, all in all he was mostly bald except for a line at the back of his head like a greek laurel and he had possibly the most boring glasses I’d ever seen, a total contrast to the building itself.

As if knowing the Gardener's thoughts the gentlemen smiled, and explained that he got reactions like that a lot, and that the mansion was a family house and apparently his family was known for being into witchcraft, now whether that was true or not they seem to have decided to live up to the name. Now the family decided to keep the mansion as it was, when the gardener asked why the man just smiled as if that would answer anything.

The yard was what you’d expect, a hedge maze, some more grotesques and yea it looked like there was a gargoyle in a marble fountain. The Gardener got to work but before he did he swore he could hear the mansion owner to ‘have a good fall’ but when he turned around to ask what that meant the man was gone, not disappeared but The Gardener could see the mansion doors closing, so he decided to disregard the words, thinking he imagined it.

Getting to work the Gardener was confused as to why he was called here to begin with, the hedges looked mostly perfect with only a twig or a leaf out of place, nothing that made you want to overpay a freelance gardener, nothing was overgrown or anything. The gardener followed the walls of the hedge maze, maybe there was something in there, but no there was nothing.

Then he heard a rumbling, it was strange but he thought nothing much about it, until it turned into a cracking sound, and before he knew it he noticed that the earth behind him was sinking into the ground, a weird ravine or chasm forming.

The Gardener ran, what else could he do, he should be able to find the other exit of the maze fast, but it felt like the maze itself stretched forever, he could’ve sworn that the length and twists he had made were geographically impossible. And then, the ground under him gave and he fell into whatever sinkhole this was, he was going to die. You know, it’s weird, he thought as he looked at the hole he’d fallen down, the shape of the opening almost looked like a smile.

#spooktober #alice writes #writing

5 - misfortune

‘Left right stop and spin’ the voice in my head said, and yup walking to the left helped me avoid a branch that would’ve fallen on me. Step right right away and that’s a falling sign and stop, a surprisingly fast scooter runs past me and then finally Spin, I think it just makes me look weird, but I can feel a gust of wind so I must’ve dodged something. ‘The flare is important’ ok voice, whatever you say, I shake my head as I continue my walk, dodging what seems like a weird collage of events, but at this point I’m used to it.

I was born with this thing in my head, it helps me move faster sure, but it comes with a cost. ‘Stop’ a car speeds on a red light. It seems that luck really has it out for me, I feel like there was a cartoon about something similar, but I don’t really know, if there is I’m probably not watching it as I don’t want to see the shit I deal with from an outsider's perspective. ‘Duck’ why the hell are actual ducks flying this low, can the world not mock me when it’s trying to kill me. ‘Fortune is like that’ I can just hear the voice smiling at me, whatever it is I really hate it. ‘Love you too’ the voice sing-songs and I just sigh as people stare at this dance with fate I do, judging and confused.

It’s not my fault that whatever the voice decided to stick into my head ‘wasn’t mine either’ shut up! ‘That’s never worked before and you know it’ sometimes I really wish you would though ‘but then you’d be- Left!’ is that a fucking piano? ‘-All alone and dead’ I guess that would suck. ‘I knew you’d see reason’ we’ve had this song and dance before, I wish I was crazy I really do, I mean a voice in my head is typical madman behavior right? ‘But I protect you don’t I?’ still mad man behavior ‘touché’ it giggles, gods I want an escape from all of this ‘you know that’s not possible’ unfortunately ‘rude.’

It might not surprise you, but I’m not exactly popular with people, apparently being in a zone of death makes people avoid you, who’d have guessed, but I accept the solitude, it’s better than final destination-ing the people around me. ‘Watching that movie was fun,’ it was a prank to make us feel bad ‘you think I care?’ Touché. I see my house, my one safe zone from the horrors of the world ‘stop’ well, after the horrors of the world try to kill me in the form of another speeding car, you’d think the world would get more creative but whatever works, works

Getting into my sanctuary I look around, the charms decorating the place all have smiling figures on them, I’m going to have to fix them, but it explains why my luck was extra bad today ‘...’ yea, you and me both voice, you and me both. I look over to the grimoire on my living room counter, cleansing the Smile it is.

#spooktober #alice writes #writing

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