βββ α’π©~π―πππππππ πππππππβ β β β β β β β β β β βββ ββπππ πππππππ ~α’π©
β β Vessel x OC/Reader
Genre: Actually dark romance, psycological horror, horror, slow burn, obsessive/jealous/yearner Vessel.
Moving to the quiet town of Norwich was supposed to be a fresh start for Iris, despite the dark rumors of the endless forest next to the town. But after a terrifying nightmare, Vessel leaves her with a suffocating presence and a silent, desperate message. As Iris tries to force herself back into her ordinary life at the flower shop, she doesn't realize that the monster from the woods has already claimed her and his devotion is just beginning.
Warnings: Mentions of blood, dead bodies/suicide (not from her), nightmares(?), intense emotions of being suffocated in the dreams/by his power.
Words: 3.1k
A slow evening breeze brushed Irisβ face and hair, making it flow behind her and graze her shoulders as she walked down the main street of the small town she had decided to move to. There wasnβt much: a restaurant at the end of the road that made delicious dishes, a pharmacy in the center, two small playgrounds for children, a bakery she stopped by every morning before work, and a small police station. Nothing special, but she loved the atmosphere, the kind people, the usual quiet, if not for the pub near her house that blasted music from loudspeakers at 10 p.m. while old men laughed at jokes and drank beer.
One thing she had liked, at first glance, was that the town faded into a forest, one that seemed to hold strange things no one could explain. When she first moved into her cottage, she heard plenty of rumors, for example from an old lady at the bakery:
βThere used to be something, or rather, someone, lurking in there. No one knows what or who it was, but one thing is certain: you should *never* set foot in those woods. One day, a group of teenagers tried to explore the forest out of boredom, but as soon as they walked in, they started to hear a strange language inside their minds. It wasnβt something they chose to hear; no, it felt like a power, a force, was pushing its way into their skulls. They panicked and ran for their lives back to the edge of the trees. When they turned around and looked through the gaps between the trunks, they saw a black figure standing perfectly still: a white mask with a strange symbol on it, a body so tall it dwarfed any man youβd usually see walking down the street. After that, no one dared to step inside.β
Other people told her about visions in their dreams: dead bodies hanging from branches, blood covering them, the same strange symbol carved into their faces like a scar, and the tall figure standing beneath those corpses. Another man claimed heβd heard a hypnotizing song drifting from the forest one morning while he took a stroll nearby.
After all those stories, Iris didnβt like the idea of living next to a mysterious forest. But she couldnβt move again; her bank account could barely handle groceries, let alone another relocation.
To make things worse, her cottage was probably the closest one to the woods.
Back to the main issue, the girl fumbled in her pocket for her house keys, her thoughts clinging to a single desire: βI want to sleep as soon as possible.β She stepped inside, locked the door behind her, slipped off her shoes, and headed to the kitchen. The cold floor shocked her bare feet, cutting through some of the tension from her nine-hour shift. It was only 8 p.m.; luckily her boss hadnβt kept her late, because if he had, she genuinely might have set the place on fire and come home afterward.
She tossed her phone onto the countertop with a dull thump, then went to the open living room and turned on the TV, setting it to the news channel so it could play in the background while she made herself dinner.
The house had been dead quiet until the broadcast loaded. A manβs voice broke the silence, rambling through everything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours. She was too tired to feel hungry, but her stomach rumbled, demanding fuel. She pulled a package of chicken breasts from the freezer. With a dull knife, she chopped the meat into uneven rectangles. Each thud against the wooden cutting board felt heavy, like the bags under her eyes built from nights of insomnia.
She tossed the chicken into a hot pan with a splash of oil; a violent sizzle filled the room. While it browned, she grabbed a plastic bowl from the cabinet above her, rising onto her tiptoes to reach it. She opened the fridge and took out a pre-made salad sheβd bought a few days earlier, already washed so she didnβt have to bother; then she added a handful of cherry tomatoes without even slicing them.
When the chicken was cooked, she scooped it straight from the pan onto the bed of green leaves. The heat warmed the salad underneath, releasing a comforting, earthy steam. She carried the bowl to the couch with a fork, sinking so deep into the cushions she felt she might fall asleep right there.
Irisβ eyes snapped to the screen when she heard her town being mentioned in the news.
βBreaking news! A strange, mysterious figure appeared in the town of Norwich, dragging two dead children into the forest that surrounds the area. Locals recorded the scene while others tried to attack the figure, but they were injured by an unidentified force radiating from it. We will now be streaming the video.β
Her jaw dropped as the footage appeared. The way those blood-covered bodies were dragged inside like sacks of potatoes made her stomach twist; suddenly she thought she might throw up.
She grabbed the remote and shut the TV off.
Her breath heaved as the girl doubled over, one hand pressed to her mouth, and her eyes squeezed shut, trying to erase the image from her mind. It didnβt help.
A few minutes later, she finally managed to steady herself and stared at the blank screen. What the hell was that? They hadnβt even censored it. Bastards.
She sighed and looked at her dinner next to her. Slowly, she lifted the bowl onto her lap, picked up the fork, and stared at the chicken pieces. It seemed she had forgotten how to be hungry. Still, she reminded herself she needed to eat before sleeping, at least a few bites. With effort, she chewed a cherry tomato along with a piece of chicken, her mind circling the video. So he was real, the strange man in the woods. The thought raised goosebumps along her skin and made her heart beat faster.
βI just hope I never meet him.β She whispered to no one.
After a few more minutes, she couldnβt continue eating, still too shaken. She left the bowl on the kitchen counter and went to her bedroom to get ready for bed. Her feet padded over the wooden floor; the old boards creaked under her weight, and each sound made her glance back, suddenly paranoid that the man might be lurking behind her.
When Iris reached her bedroom, she closed the door quickly and even locked it, then pressed her back against it as a shiver ran down her spine. Her eyes flicked to the open window. She crossed the room and shut it, then looked at her bed, her heavy-lidded eyes aching for sleep. The last thing she heard before she tucked herself under the covers was the soft rustle of branches brushing her roof.
He watches. He enters your dreams. He lures you in.
Her hand was buried in a dogβs long fur, the animal wagging its tail as it leaned into her touch. She smiled at the sight, tilting her head to study its face. Her boss suddenly appeared, his voice sharp and authoritative.
βIris, stop petting that dog and go do your job! We need to serve more customers, theyβre hungry!β He yelled.
She looked up at him with a sigh and, somehow, ignored him. He vanished into thin air. The dog stared at her for a moment, then wandered away too. She huffed and stretched her arms over her head.
Sunlight warmed her skin as she turned to face an endless sea. The old lady from the bakery was sunbathing nearby, so she walked over and sat beside her.
βHey,β she said, wanting to start a conversation with her.
The woman opened her eyes and began speaking in Spanish.
Irisβ eyebrows furrowed. She didnβt understand a single word, and at the same time, she did. It was logical. She was dreaming.
Everything was beautiful: the sea stretching to the horizon, the sky glowing yellow, a distant island floating just above the line where water met air. Then the ocean suddenly retreated as if a tsunami were coming. The sun turned red, then black. The old lady stopped speaking and became perfectly still.
Her eyes narrowed. What was happening?
A hand clamped around her upper arm. She whipped her head around and saw the woman sitting up, staring at her with wide, urgent eyes.
βDonβt give in. Whatever happens, whatever he does, never do.β She suddenly whispered.
Then she vanished, just like her boss had. The entire world twisted and swirled until there was only a pitch-black void. Instinctively, she squeezed her eyes shut, panic rising in her throat. She stood there like that until a voice filled her ears.
It wasnβt English. It wasnβt Spanish. It sounded like an ancient, forgotten language; something no one should know, something that carried everything wrong in the world. She curled into herself, drawing her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around her legs. The voice continued, deep and rich, smooth as honey, but the words themselves felt like sin.
She clapped her hands over her ears, pressing her palms hard, but it didnβt help. If anything, it made the voice louder. Or maybe the speaker was drawing closer. Her eyes snapped open. She looked left, right, up, down, everywhere, yet there was no oneβonly the strange language speaking directly inside her.
βStop! Stop talking!β She shouted, covering her ears again, her breath heaving.
βPlease!β
At that last word, the voice stopped.
Then her mind woke up.
She bolted upright in bed, the blanket sliding from her shoulders. Her lips parted, her hair was a mess, her eyes wide with panic. She scanned the room until relief finally loosened her chest.
βIt was a nightmare,β She told herself, pressing a hand to her heart, feeling how it hammered so fast it felt ready to burst. She shut her eyes and took a deep breath. What time was it?
She glanced at the nightstand.
Oh- sheβd left her phone in the kitchen.
Her feet hit the wooden floor with a creak. Still shaky from the dream, she stood, wobbled slightly, and walked to the door. She unlocked it and stepped into the hall. Outside it was dark; streetlights cast yellow pools along the road. A distant dog barked, splitting the silence, but she ignored it and went to the kitchen, where her phone still lay on the countertop.
She pressed the side button. The screen lit up her face: 2:11 a.m.
She locked it again, her eyes drifting to the forgotten bowl of half-eaten dinner. Her stomach growled immediately. It seemed she was going to finish it now.
The girl picked up the bowl in one hand and her phone in the other, then returned to her room, nudging the door closed with her heel.
She settled back into bed, sliding her legs under the blanket and leaning against the headboard, the bowl resting on her lap. As she lifted her fork, her thoughts returned to the dream. She remembered what the old lady had said: βDonβt give in. Whatever happens, whatever he does, never do.β A shiver ran down her spine. The woman had looked so alert, so afraidβ¦ and sheβd mentioned a βhe.β Was she referring to the figure in the forest?
Her brain tried to convince herself the nightmare was only because of the news footage, of that scary creature lurking inside the forest-
She shook her head, forcing her focus back to the present, and chewed a cold strip of chicken.
Just as she began to calm down, she noticed that the roomβs temperature dropped. Her bare skin prickled with cold. Then came the smell: not the stale scent of a closed bedroom, but something earthy; the forest after a storm. Wet mud, moss, and church-like incense all at once.
Irisβ eyes lifted, scanning the room with sudden alertness. The curtains at her window flowed inward.
The window was cracked open.
Adrenaline flooded her body. She didnβt remember opening it. Not at all. Had it opened by itself? No. That was stupid.
She set the bowl on the nightstand and crossed the room, fumbling with the fluttering curtains until she managed to shut the window with a click. A relieved breath escaped herβ
βand died in her throat when she felt the unmistakable sensation of being watched.
She froze, then slowly turned.
Her eyes searched every corner of the room until they landed on the darkest one.
And there he was.
The mysterious figure.
Her eyes widened. She stumbled back a step, a sharp gasp tearing from her lips.
He stood like a mannequin, head tilted toward her. The white mask was a stark contrast against the black cloak and hood. The rest of him was swallowed by shadow, but he was so tall he still towered over her from across the room.
Her mind flashed to the teenagersβ story, to the children dragged into the woods, to the strange language, to the void. Panic seized her; her breathing turned fast and shallow. She was going to die. She was going to be the next victim. That was all she could think of.
At the same time, though, it wasnβt just normal fear that paralyzed her; it was a physical force radiating from him, heavy and suffocating, making the air in her lungs turn to ice. It was almost nauseous, her vision starting to feel fuzzy, her eyes already seeing things in double.
But he didnβt move. He didnβt even seem to breathe. He was so still he almost didnβt look real, like her paranoia had shaped him out of darkness.
Then, as her fear rose, he took a small step back.
The girl couldnβt read his expression behind the mask, but she could see his mouth, at least. He stayed silent. Slowly, his hand lifted toward her, fingers trembling slightly, as if he wanted to reach out but couldnβt. Then his hand shifted and pressed against the cloak over his chest, above his heart, fingers curling tight in a silent message.
Iris didnβt understand it. In her terror, she thought it meant βIβm going to rip out your heart.β
But what he meant instead?
β¦
A scream ripped from her lungs. She squeezed her eyes shut, throwing her arms over her head as if he might pounce, as if the same force surrounding him could tear her apart in an instant. She shook so hard she could hardly stand.
Moments passed in silence. When she finally lowered her arms to look, he was gone.
Her brows knit together. Where had he gone? Had she imagined it? No, she had seen him. He was real. But he hadnβt attacked her. That was what left her most confused.
Eventually, she crawled back into bed and pulled the blanket up to her chin, still shivering. She stared at the ceiling, thoughts spiraling. Why hadnβt he lunged? Why had he left?
Every few minutes, her gaze darted to the window, half-expecting him to return.
Even so, exhaustion dragged her under, and she fell asleep about thirty minutes later.
Morning arrived like a crashing wave. Her alarm, set for 9 a.m. automatically, rang loudly. She groaned, reached for her phone on the nightstand, and silenced it with a swipe. Sunrays slipped through the curtains, filling her room gently. Birds chirped outside as if they were having a conversation, and distant engines hummed as cars passed by. She rubbed her eyes and blinked herself awake. Then last night came rushing back: the nightmare, the man in her room, his silence, his disappearance.
She shook her head, but the images returned anyway: the children in the woods, the blood-
The dark circles under her eyes made her look like a zombie. Sheβd had a terrible night.
The soft pad of her feet on the floor was the only sound breaking those thoughts as she went to the kitchen. She shoved two slices of bread into the toaster, then checked every window in the room before letting out a slow breath and rubbing her temples. She couldnβt let herself become paranoid already. She had to keep going and forget what had happened.
Though everything now felt surreal.
After she stuffed the toast into her mouth and chewed, she dressed quickly in her work uniform: a plain white shirt and black trousers. Iris checked herself in the mirror near the front door, took a deep breath, and pressed a hand to her chest, trying to steady herself.
βYouβve got this.β She said.
She shut the door behind her with a loud thud and stepped out into the morning streets.
The dawn air was crisp, heavy with the townβs dreams, but it did nothing to clear the paranoia that had taken hold only moments before. As she walked down the main street, her work boots clicked on the hard concrete sidewalk; even after trying to reassure herself in the mirror, she felt entirely disconnected from the world around her.
Outside her mind, Norwich was slowly waking up: the rich, warm scent of freshly baked dough drifted from the bakery around the corner, and a few locals took a stroll, like James, who always crossed her path on his usual morning jog. The girl envied his will to wake up early and run.
To everyone else, it was just another ordinary Thursday; to her, the world felt permanently altered.
Her gaze inevitably shifted to the left, drawn like a magnet toward the dense, dark wall of the forest. Under the bright morning sun, the trees looked deceptively peaceful, their leaves shimmering in the light, some birds chirping there and there. Yet, she found herself scanning the gaps between the ancient trunks, her breath catching in her throat as she searched for a certain tall silhouette or a white mask gleaming behind the darkness. There was nothing, none of it, just empty shadows.
She pulled her eyes away just as the before mentioned James passed by her, giving her a smile and a small wave, his AirPods tucked into the holes of his ears, his dark-green jumpsuit holding a few damp patches of sweat that ran from the front to his back. Iris reciprocated the greeting with a forced smile of hers, before she forced herself to focus on the small flower shop at the end of the road. She didnβt want to stop at the bakery like she did every morning; she just wanted to carry on with her day.
She stopped in front of the glass door, staring at her own pale reflection and the dark circles under her eyes before grasping the handle. With a deep, stabilizing breath, she pushed the door open, the little bell above it chiming merrily to announce her arrival.
Behind her, hung the heavy air of someone who had seen something dangerous, something that was definitely gonna break her and lead to failure.
Thank you for reading! Leave a like if you think I should to continue thisπ«Άπ»