The boy is jolted out of his sleep. When he looks up, the light stings his eyes like pins to a cushion before drowning him in a blinding white. He squeezes his eyes shut. Although he feels the creases etched along his eyelids, there is no reprieve from the glaring light, for it does not come from without but from within his head. His instinct is to rub his eyes but his body is rigid as slate.
He appears to be stuck in a half wakened state, a kind of vision which he cannot escape. He feels helpless. He is afraid.
The light vanishes as he is thrust into a dream. He is rocking sideways in a powder blue room. A woman is humming in the background. Her voice has a soothing familiarity. She emerges into his view and the rocking stops. He first notices the blonde hair, which tumbles to partially obscure her face. She gracefully moves it to one shoulder, where it flows like silk and sheens when it catches the light coming through the window. Continue reading “Intrepid Explorer – a sci-fi prologue”
The concrete floor is uncomfortable, the sleeping bag thin. The night is cold, and the wind seeps through the many openings of the gazebo. But these are the least of my concerns. There are three dogs just outside the doorless gazebo; vicious by the sound of them. They turn rabid at my slightest movement. Their barks and growls saturate the silent night. They could be right at my ear and it wouldn’t make a difference.
But they refuse to get in. This only gives me slight comfort – I won’t be torn to shreds by ferine dogs. But what will tear me to shreds? What keeps the dogs from getting inside the gazebo? There is no physical barrier. So what are they afraid of? I doubt they have had any form of sophisticated training. They are rural dogs after all.
Some believe that certain animals possess a sixth sense for the supernatural. The thought frightens me. Dad has told me so many witchcraft stories that my mind need not exert its imagination as to what keeps the dogs away. The gazebo does belong to some shop owner after all. They are usually the most suspect of rural folk. Continue reading “Of Strange Gazebos And Terrifying Tales – a Zim short story based on true events”
Image: The Witch
Like a battering ram, my heart pummels my rib-cage as if it means to crack it. It alerts me of the unnatural and ominous presence I’m beginning to sense – whatever it is that just jerked me out of my sleep. In the silence, the sound of my breathing is like the bellow of a steam engine. It will only give me away; a siren to broadcast my apprehension to whatever is listening, to whatever stalks the night. I consciously take in every breath until only barely perceptible whistles escape.
Then I hear the patter of feet; the lightest of taps which I can only perceive because of my adrenaline heightened senses. Someone is coming to my door. At this hour? If my instincts don’t deceive me, it should be in the very early morning.
I twist my neck to look at the clock radio on my night stand. In the pitch black, it glares at me in neon red like it warns me – 1:23am. Who could be walking the dormitory corridors barefoot at this time of night, and in this cold? Continue reading “Man In A Dark Room – a Zim short story inspired by “true” events”