for madelyn's contest
Posted August 16th, 2014 by Alaska
The cold laces bony fingertips over my spine, goose bumps racing over my flesh. I turn on my phone, a modern flashlight to illuminate my path. Slowly I continue to walk, attempting to muffle the sounds of snow crunching under my feet.
My heartbeat jumps, my breath irregular as I clutch onto my phone tighter. You're imagining things, Ryen. Chill out.
It's just the wind moving the door. No big deal. But as I continue to walk, I notice that there is no wind, not even the slightest breeze. The air is completely still.
"Jesus, Ryen." I mutter to myself, before clamping my hand over my mouth. Shut up shut up shut up. My skin is cold to the touch. My lips are pale and cracked.
Why am I even here? I mean, last time I checked it was midday. There are no such things as ghosts of monsters, and if there are, what would they do to me?
Rip your throat out.
The cold numbs my flesh to the point where I'm in between feeling pain and nothing at all. I sink deeper into my sweater, tuck stray strands of my hair behind my ears and pull my bones closer together.
I reach out to touch the door of the building, which is half in ruins by now. It's smothered in dust, and at my touch, it frolics into the frigid air in alarm.
Little hairs rise on the back of my neck and I slowly open the door. The dust, which flies out, seems to have already been interrupted not too long ago.
The sound is becoming more frequent, and the fact that there is no wind and something is still moving in there freaks me out. Taking a deep breath, I push the door open and squeeze my eyes shut for any kidn of blow or attack. I pause. Inching my eyes open, I'm just faced with infinite darkness, the faint light from outside spilling over the tiles.
I hold my phone in front of my to light the way as the door swings shut again. At every tentative step, dust swirls in the air around me. Pointing my phone to the floor, I spot footprints in the dust beside mine. Just the outline. No print.
Maybe someone else has visited? That explains the movement and the interrupted dust. It's my only hope. Walking inside slowly, I pass a metal bed. My fingers stroke the canvasy blankets, before my eyes flicker up to the glass cabinet in front of me.
Next to the cabinet, there's a long room. Beds line its walls, all with the same canvasy material. I venture inside, nervous. But there's nothing. Just a lump under the sheets of the far bed--
Ryen, chill. I'm serious. There is nothing there.
My breathing goes from needy to erratic. I keep walking, squeezing my eyes shut, trying not to freak out. I rip the blankets off and prepare myself to scream.
Opening my eyes, I'm faced with a pile of clothes and used bandages. The smell is putrid, and I take a couple steps back.
"Hello. Can I help you?" Spinning on my heel, I face a skinny figure in a doctor's suit. My eyes travel up to his face.
Pure black sockets.
Lunging out with a knife, his eyes spin off axis and he shows a large set of pointy yellow teeth, flashing a crooked smile in lust and almost revenge.
"I'm sorry, I forgot my anesthetic."
Now is the time to scream.
See more stories by alaska