The first chapter of scouting sunspot (also known as An has Ghosts in her house, the chronicles.)
Ch-1, Doom and Gloom, Where it Looms
First of all, She didn't like to admit her fears. Not to anyone. It made her feel less cool.
Second of All. She was definitely being watched. Every night. She'd had the ritual of watching MV's before bed. Especially the ones she deemed cool.
Third of all. She had no Idea what in the name of God was watching her. But she hated every second of it.
Her room felt pitch black. Which, was really odd considering she'd been scared so much, she'd began sleeping with her lamp on. And the fact she was watching an mv at that point in time. It was that fact that told her, that it was near.
She moved her blanket over her, y'know, as one did when they were nervous. She turned up the volume, but even with no polluting noise, it felt like it was being drowned out, the silence was screaming at her. It roared and it Growled and almost felt like it was going to skewer her.
Why? Why her? She moved into her makeshift blanket fortress, heart beating as a boxer at a sand bag, as if it were to punch her ribcage into submission. The worst part was, she knew it wouldn't help if she spoke. But she did. She opened her mouth to Curse the pain in her chest, and in that moment, her throat felt as if even the light was out to harm her, she would have went and told her mother, she really would have, but her legs refused to move.
Even worse, was the complete lack of capacity she had to do anything about it. She was at the mercy of whatever it was that was tormenting her. Torturing her. She resolved to listen to one more MV. Just one. To ease her mind. A new one, fresh in her eyes, a song called 'Abnormality Dancing Girl' one she had heard good things about.
She tried to focus on the song. But it had other plans. Claws grasped her bed on rested over her as whatever it was loomed. Doom and Gloom.
After the song finished. She was too, especially with this. She rested her head. Something moved. She shifted. Nothing changed. She decided to close her eyes. But first, moved the lamp just that tiny but closer. "An." She jumped. She didn't recognise that voice. "An?" She jumped again. This time opening her eyes and frantically looking around. "So, you can hear me." She froze. She wasn't seeing anyone, but she was definitely hearing their voice. Great.
"Go...Away.." Her voice tremoured like nothing else in the realms had, shook and quaked like the rapture was taking place in her voice box. "An!" She got up, looking at the time- 11:05pm. She couldn't sleep every night with whatever was watching her... It really sucked for An, she was already inherently scared of Supernatural nonsense and Ghosts and stories about them scared her like a little girl.
She jolted up, horrified- looking around, the neurons In her brain firing like a minigun.
No one was there, at all, no matter where she looked, no one, not a soul. Surely, surely- she was going mad- right? She absolutely hated this- this choking, hateful feeling, the most bitter, grave, gritty feeling, the most foul and horrific feeling she'd ever live to experience.
An wasn't one to become this bitter, but the possibility, no- the knowledge she was being played like solitaire and a pack of cards, it agitated her to no end.
She sat up and to attention, unable to ignore her predicament, the constant, horrific murmurings, those voices, she could not take the murmuring, every night. But alas- as life was- she could never possibly hope to be free of such horrors.
Nor it. She deflated, she remembered this all, from before, it was all as that past nightmare was- helplessness, giving up, living in fear... feeling just as she did before it all started to look up for her, as it began to regain that lost meaning. Before the Fun, before her partner, before the event, even.
As it was- she'd rather not have any sort of allusion nor flashback to such a grim part of her life. Days so ghoulish they put the worst of her father's old tales to shame, the times she hid from others, and yet, just like those phantoms of the had already returned, she was cowering, how pathetic.
She had already spent so long trying to forget that. Because, as she had learnt- Nothing good ever came from fear.
An would have called for help, her hands however, decided co-operation wasn't an option, shaking and tremouring like an eruption.
It seemed that no matter how much she wanted to, the fear would wrack her form to such a degree that she felt pitiful, pathetic, even. What then? With hands frozen enough to be mistaken for Icicles during a December morning, she decided against it, it would be agonising. Her mind looked over her limited options, and so- she relegated herself to an unfortunate fate, lying down, and using all of her strength to not cry, she contemplated if something this meaningless and singular could even count as some sort of real problem.
Ah, How she felt truly pitiful.
The night moved slowly. To her, several immortal eternities passed, fitting into a bracket of six hours of unbearably claustrophobic darkness, of full, screaming silence. It may have been hard to tell, even amongst the wall of descriptions, but, An was not particularly fond of the issue at hand.
An being as she was, couldn't really help but feel as if all those disgustingly sleepless nights were a thing of the past. Of course, proven wrong.
