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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1589698-Guilt
Rated: 18+ · Fiction · Horror/Scary · #1589698
A young man is trapped by the death of his sister.
Guilt



A white mist obscured the young man's vision but for the green-grey grass at his bare feet. A wet dragging sound of something large caused him to twist around as quickly as he could to locate the source of the sound, but everything hid behind the blanket of fog. It obliterated the directional sense he used to be so proud of.  The wet dragging sound thumped behind him again. Dark, vaguely human-shaped shadows twisted in the fog at impossible angles, evading his attempts at discovery.

"Sssimon." a young voice echoed by others drifted through the fog as a single smaller shadow gathered itself and as a schoolgirl, no more than five years old, emerged from the fog.  She held a large red ball under one arm while her other hand hidden behind her back in a way that Simon did not like.

"Sssimon, will you play with usss?" she asked. A large tinted stain oozed down her right cheek. Behind her the shadows twirled excitedly.

"Tabitha? Is that you?" His heart skipped a beat.

"Wiiill you play with usss?" she asked again. Not waiting for him to respond she tossed the red ball. He watched it roll towards him. A faint red blotch appeared on his toe as the ball came to rest.  Quickly he pulled his foot away in revulsion. Looking up he saw that Tabitha had gone. "Wiiill you play with usss?" Her voice emerged from every direction. Whispers in the fog repeated the question, voices that could not possibly come from a human mouth.

Simon’s spine filled with ice.

Looking carefully around, he picked up the red ball and his hands came away sickly red revealing a bright neon blue underneath. A memory tugged at Simon and a great sorrow swept over him followed by a torrent of pain that brought him to his knees yelling, "This is not happening. This is NOT happening.” His hands shook badly; the ball fell from his grasp, as he looked around at the shifting shadows in open fear. “It’s got to be a dream. Yeah, a dream. I just need to wake up.” He slapped his face, crimson smearing his cheek.  “Wake up Simon! Wake up!" he yelled and punched the ball in frustration. It disappeared in to the fog, rebounded off an object and came rolling back towards him, weaving a thin red line in the grass. The vapor parted like a curtain to reveal a white wooden wall soiled with a red stain shaped like an all-seeing eye. He walked over to it, noticing the grass give way to paved concrete. Simon recognized something familiar in the way the cracks crossed each other. He ran his fingers over the wall feeling the sharp textures and contours of the grain within the wood. Leaning closer, he rested his unblemished cheek against the wooden panels. The fog enveloped him in silence.

Stepping back from the wall, Simon swallowed his terror and hesitantly rapped his knuckles on it. "Okay. This must go somewhere," he reasoned, curiosity overcoming his fear. He followed the wall to the right, his fingers maintaining contact with the surface.

Just in front of him a skittering, scratching noise could be heard and it stopped him mid-step. "Sssimon." Tabitha's voice echoed all around. "Whhhere are you going? Come play with usss." A sickening, wet thump of something large and very heavy sounded just in front, making him jump.  The grass below his feet started to dry and turn brown, the life and energy being sucked out of it. Coldness crept into the soles of his bare feet, seeping up his legs. The hairs on his arms and neck rose in pure primal fear.

"What the..." Terror took control as he fled. Out of the corner of his eye he saw windows of dark glass lining the wall. Windows that had not been there earlier, windows that glared with unvoiced accusations. His reflection ran beside him, surging each time he passed the smoked panes. Distorted faces screamed in silent rage from the windows. Simon ran, his chest burning with the effort, but the wall continued on. A leviathan presence pressed against his back, catching up quickly, growing larger with each stride. The glass captured something fat and glistening, something he did not want to turn around and confirm.  Just the reflection of it caused small cracks in his sanity.

An open door broke the wall ahead, its familiarity welcoming.  Panic drove him in, slamming it shut as the horror outside smashed into it.  Scrambling further into the room he watched the door hoping that the creature would not follow him in.

The door remained still.

Simon closed his eyes trying to calm his adrenaline filled heart. Opening them he noticed the fog had invaded the building. A familiar pang resounded within Simon and he chased a memory just out of reach. The fog obfuscated the room however he saw a cold empty fire place, a dead plant in the far corner next to a leather lounge suite covered by plastic. Bile burned the back of his throat as he watched shadows swirl and weave together in intimate ecstasy.

"Sssimon." Her voice echoed around the sparsely furnished room. Standing in front of the fireplace stood Tabitha dressed in her tartan school uniform, her arms behind her back, and the large red and blue ball at her feet. A dark crimson pool spilled out beneath her feet.

"Tabitha. W-where am I? What’s happening?"

"Sssimon, will you play with usss?"

A sharp memory stabbed him. A young girl pleading for attention. A young girl being ignored. A young girl running upstairs. A loud bang.

Tears streamed down Simons face as the full memory of what happened came rushing back. "I am so sorry Tabitha. I know I should have. I should have played with you.” Simon begged on his knees, “Can we play now, please?”

"Yess Sssimon, let’s play forever." She slowly revealed the gun from behind her back and raised it to her head.





© Copyright 2009 Dan Boyce (bottleopsud at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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