HORROR SHORT STORY: MANSION...rooms of horror and derangement...
How long had it been since I awoke in this mansion, trapped within and losing time slipping through my fingers? Indeed, it felt as if ages had passed with me unable to leave the foyer, staring at the front door that would not budge, regardless of all my efforts. Fists banging upon impenetrable wood, screams muffled by thick walls, madness raging in my heart. Emotions tore through me, ravaging my flesh and I found myself craving insanity over this existence. I had no memory of life before this mansion, only vague images remained and even those were veiled from my view. Lost remembrances flitted about me like delicate butterflies that would crumble with the most gentlest of touches. As soon as I reached out towards them, they disappeared, leaving behind only a ghost of a memory. I was lost. Standing in this mansion and unable to leave the entranceway had taken its toll on me and I was urged into inaction even more deeply with the passing times. If, perhaps, I were to regain my memories I would achieve an identity that could help guide me through this mansion. But it was pointless, nothing came to me clearly and I was far too lost to find my way back to myself. Insanity had begun to fringe upon the edges of my thoughts and I saw them, as clear as shadows beneath the sun, dreading the moment that they would finally consume me with holy fire. I wanted so desperately to escape from my cage, begging for release, pleading for a return to existence beyond these barren walls. Unable to contain myself, I charged the door with a shoulder and banged on it with open palms, screaming for someone, anyone, to come find me. Eventually, in the midst of my frenzy, I slammed my head against the black door again and again, until the skin of my forehead split and blood began to trickle downwards past my eyes. My energy waned and my hands were stinging painfully. I slid down the wall and collapsed on the floor, sobbing and feeling hot, salty tears streaming down my face. I accepted grimly that no one could hear me and no one would come save me. I was condemned to be locked within this mansion. Suddenly, a light turned on and shone on something that had appeared while I was unaware. A golden dagger with a single ruby in its hilt was sitting upon a black pillow on a tall pedestal. I winced at the sudden beam of light and stared with curiosity at this sudden appearance. The glint of light upon the edge of that fine blade entranced me with thoughts of escape. I stood up slowly and shuffled my way forwards to the dagger. Yes, with this, I could end myself and my entire existence. Was I willing to lose my life in order to escape this forsaken mansion? Anxiety and fear bubbled up within as I realized with horror that the answer was yes. With grim determination, I gripped the dagger and brought it to my delicate inner wrist. No thoughts came to me as I pressed its edge into my flesh and drew the blade vertically across an artery. Blood poured from my wound, thick and heavy. The crimson light of my blood shone in my eyes and a trill of excitement rose within me. I would fall asleep and never wake up in this mansion ever again. I slumped to the ground as pool of blood collected beneath me. My eyes grew weary and strength was leaving me. Suddenly, I could hear a sound. It was a whisper, yes, a soft whisper that was barely audible. “...The slumbering one has awakened…” Thoughts raced in my mind, it was the first sound I had heard in this mansion and it was uncomfortably jarring to hear it. “Who are you? Where are you?” I whispered back. “...From your blood I am sprung…Your ancient soul carried in your flesh…” I turned silent, waiting with timid anticipation for what this strange voice would say. A great sense of gravity had fallen over me as I held my breath, unwilling to break the stillness in the air. Something was beginning here and I was held in the grasp of the slanted reality falling upon me. “I am the life beyond what you live…I am the lightning strike upon the desert…I am both the winged bird and the broken egg…” The words of my blood began to stir passions within me, passions that I thought had long been lost from me. A desire to rail against my circumstances suddenly inflamed my thoughts and I could feel strength welling within me. I slowly stood up, my wrists still bleeding heavily, and suddenly wished to truly enter this mansion. Soft patterings of blood dripped onto the hardwood floor but I paid no attention to it. The entire space around me was walled off and I only had one way to move forward, the steps waiting in the shrouded darkness. I walked to the staircase with determination to face whatever might be slumbering in this mansion. The light of the foyer could not reach the top of the stairs and there was a sense of true dread within me but I forced it down into my gut to be dealt with later. One step, one step, one step, I climbed up steadily and quietly. I was moving in the pitch black until I finally reached the top. Suddenly, a blood red light was cast upon the entire space and I saw that I was at the beginning of a long hall of doors. Wet, glistening flesh consumed the hall, beating in concert with the low thud of a heartbeat that permeated the entire air. It was humid and it was a struggle to breathe and think clearly. “...Move…Act…” I heard my soul whispering in my blood and would not deny its calling. I stepped forward to the first door and stared at it, thumping and oozing fluids. Chains hung from points of penetration, dangling and slightly shaking under the pressure of the mansion’s heartbeat. Before my courage faltered, I turned the dripping knob of the door and pushed it open, unprepared for the spectacle waiting for me inside. A single light swung from above. It was my mother, laying on a hospital bed surrounded by medical staff wearing masks, cloaking their identities. She was screaming, by god she was screaming, as thick blood sprayed from her, dousing the doctor with a shower of crimson gore. The doctors and nurses began to chant in unison. “Push! Push! Push!” My mother’s strained face was nearly beet red and it looked like her eyes were bulging out of her head from sheer pressure. One of them popped out and fell to the ground, rolling a few times before settling. Blood poured from the empty socket, transforming her face into a gruesome scene that was difficult to look at. Her screams turned into a roar as she pushed for the last time and I, as an infant, was expelled from her uterus. I watched as time seemed to breeze past her face, rotting her teeth and turning her one remaining eye completely black as if she were ravaged by decomposition. A queasy feeling began to churn within my guts as I stared at the repellant scene. The doctor caught the infant, branded on the forehead by a mark of sacrifice, and brought it to my mother’s arms. She smiled sickly and whispered, “You’re all mine now.” Finished with this scene, I stumbled backwards and made a hasty exit to escape the stench of viscera and the visions of madness. Once outside the room, I slammed the door behind me and tried to settle my beating heart. The hallway was pulsing with scarlet lights from dripping blood, falling upon the floor like a gentle and macabre shower of rain. A part of me wanted to run back to the foyer where it was safe but a stronger part of me wanted to venture beyond what I believed were my limits. I was here to confront myself, regardless of how demented the secrets harbored by this mansion were. Regaining my strength, I walked down the hallway and chose a door at random. It was painted black, ominous and screaming danger. With gusto, I swung the door open and took a step inside. A wave of hot air blasted me and I took in the sight. The floor was completely consumed by hundreds of black balloons, surrounding a large iron cage that stood in the center of the room. Trapped inside was a small child, sitting on the floor and facing the other way. Her long black hair was matted and strangled, giving her a wild appearance akin to a beast. A TV playing only static sat before her, lightly giving off a strange sound, like screeching metal played on low volume. I found my voice and finally spoke in a low whisper. “Who are you?” I asked. The girl slowly turned around and my voice caught in my throat. Her mouth was an open gash, flayed open to show her inner flesh, revealing her teeth and a wriggling tongue. Blood oozed out, dripping on heavy droplets with a strange mixture of viscera and saliva. Her arms ended in bloody stumps as she absently chewed on it like a toddler with its pacifier. A hand still remained, attached to the stump by thin flesh, dangling down, begging to disconnect and fall to the ground. At the sight of me, she jumped up and charged the iron bars, hissing and spitting at me. My heart stopped and I stared at her face, realizing it was my own. She raged against the wall of the iron cage with blind fury, unable to see me as herself. Blind fury emanated from her cow-dull eyes as she stretched her stumps out towards me. I felt a great pain rising within me and wished only to spare this child from herself. I approached and grabbed her arms. I began to sob. “I’m going to get you out of here,” I shouted, my voice rising above her nonsensical grunts and growls. To my dismay, her flesh began to grow mottled and rotting before me. Bruises became pits of dead flesh as a terrible smell wafted past me. I wrenched on her arm and was shocked when it fell off and melted into the floor. In desperation, I reached for her but the room grew small, contracted, and spat me back outside the door. I pounded on it but the flesh had solidified over it, blocking my entrance permanently. I cried out in pain, begged to return, desiring only to save that small child that held the same heart as my own. For quite some time, how long exactly was impossible to gauge, I was suddenly quite tired. But the mansion around me beated in concert with my heart and I knew that this was just the beginning of my tribulations. I regained my composure with a new resolve: to witness everything this mansion held hidden from me, regardless of the consequences and mortal peril. Suddenly, a voice whispered in my ear, my ancient blood spoke to me one word. “...Move…” Spurred onwards, I slowly stood up and looked at the long hallway filled with doors, begging to be explored. I walked for a while before settling on the next door. I slid it open and peered inside, only to see darkness illuminated by the dim light of glowing spores, revealing a black pool of liquid. A siren song was playing, pushing me towards entering the pool like a wayward sailor at sea. I followed the song and plunged into the liquid. Cold hits me and gravity pulls me downwards. I breathe in the liquid like air and feel strangely comforted by the weight of the pool bearing down upon me. I sink and reach the bottom, feeling soft sand beneath me. It is pitch black and I strangely feel like a clam, pleasantly settled and safe. Indeed, my thoughts drifted away from me and I became one with the liquid in a stasis that seemed to stretch into infinity. Just as I was adjusting, a beam of golden light pierced the blackness, shining before me. I winced at the light, as I was a creature of the night, and watched as a figure began to float into my view. It was a female, her long black hair drifted past her face and I recognized her as myself as a teenager. She was dead, it was obvious to me. Thick gray clouded her eyes and her skin was peeling off in thick sluices. Her frozen lips were stretched into death’s grin, giving her a deranged appearance that disturbed me to my roots. It was my own face, dead and rotting away. I hopped to my feet and began the laborious process of swimming to her through the sludge of condensing liquid around me, making it nearly impossible to reach her. Suddenly, weak blatherings began to rise around me. Voices in this deep pool clamored, sending vibrations of irritation throughout me. They became deafening but I refused to stop swimming. If only I could hold her, if only I could touch her, then maybe I could save her from this state of death. It made no rational sense but I could not resist. I strived to reach her and grabbed her thin wrist, shocked at how soft and pliable her flesh felt to my touch. Instantly, I felt all her pains and her mortal surrender to death, coursing through me and saturating me with woe at her state. A great sense of melancholy was suddenly draining me of energy. I attempted to swim towards the surface but she felt so heavy in my arms and I was struggling desperately. There was no rational reason towards my actions but I was spurred onwards by a subconscious desire to rescue this dead corpse that resembled me so deeply. The black waters began to roil with turbulence, whipping me back and forth as if trying to prevent me from surfacing. I kicked my legs as hard as I could but the waters tore my grip away and I was being pushed to the surface. I reached out towards her one more time but the waters spat me out and I was plopped in front of the door I had entered through. Gasping and spitting out water, I peered over the edge and could catch the last glimpses of her before drifting into the blackness. Water dripped off me as I struggled to reorient myself. I didn’t know how long I had been laying there. Time passed strangely and I was only stirred by the sound of my blood. “...Forward…” I urged myself to stand up and rose to my feet. This hallway was still unexplored and there were many horrors still awaiting me. Abiding by my blood’s orders, I walked for some time and finally settled on a random door. Door number three, I turned the handle and entered. A large and portly man wearing a bloody apron and holding a huge butcher’s cleaver sat at a table under a single lightbulb. The light swayed slightly back and forth, casting ghoulish shadows across his features. He was grinning without any sign of humor, stretching his lips wide and revealing a set of sharpened teeth. A long trail of drool dripped from his chin as he sat before a roasted kind of meat. I stared at the meat until I realized it was my own body as a child. Her face was frozen in suffering, the eyes cooked and split lips, still holding an expression of abject fear. I could not move, revolted and petrified. The butcher seemed not to notice me as he stared at her flesh with greedy anticipation. With one swift move, he brought the blade of the cleaver on the shoulder and chopped her arm clean off. Two grubby hands gripped the arm like a chicken wing and began to feast upon her cooked flesh. Sharp and jagged teeth tore meat away, thick and dripping from remnants of fluid and juicy oils. A sick feeling of revulsion fell over me and he looked up at me, piercing pig eyes boring into me. I shut the door, unable to continue witnessing the demented scene. Door number four. I blinked a few times as I tried to comprehend what I was seeing. A decapitated body sat in a position of meditation with a long maypole protruding upwards from the severed neck. My own head was placed at the top of the pole with dead eyes. The head was slack-jawed and its tongue, mottled back, dangled out its open mouth. Both eyes were gouged out and its flesh was peeling off in thick sluices, as if the head had been hoisted up for ages. In a state of putrefaction, the head was held in an expression of morbid agony. Swirls of charcoal and blood red lined the pole from top to bottom. Attached to the pole were several long ribbons held in the sweaty grips of children skipping around the slowly spinning center of the entire ghastly spectacle. Soft lilting tones of children murmuring sweet rhymes in a distorted concert that danced in the air around us. Humorless and vacant, the sight of these children deeply disturbed me, as if they were phantoms from another time and place where suffering reigned supreme. Different planes intersecting at this moment, a tremulous moment held upon the head of a pin, a macabre moment that could not exist outside this realm of the strange and deranged. I could barely breathe for fear of uttering a sound. The children were humorless, their vacant expressions showing only a slight glimmer of awareness. A thundering swell of repulsion and shock rose within me as my skin prickled with cold sweats. I was frozen, unable to bear what I was witnessing. Suddenly, everything stopped and the children were now focused on me, their black eyes frozen like a predator noticing its prey. I stumbled backwards, grabbed the door handle, and spilled out the other side. I slammed the door behind me and sucked in ragged breaths. Door number five. I entered the room and was met with a gust of a humid stench of freshly rendered flesh. I gagged at the smell and nearly vomited on the floor. I was unprepared for the sight before me. Laying on the floor of the dimly lit room was my own corpse, slit from sternum to groin. Its intestines were unraveled, torn asunder, and pouring out of my cavity while glistening wet with a layer of thick mucus. Deep purple and marred crimson glowed in the light, so fresh and nearly still beating with a failing heart. A herd of pigs were butted up against the corpse, eagerly snarfing on the meat of its guts. They grunted and snorted in an ugly display of twisted gluttony, enjoying the tastes and smooth textures of the body’s innards. I watched as they chewed on its flesh, swallowed huge bites, and gouged the corpse with teeth, unable to stop feasting even to take a breath. Thick, nearly black, blood dripped from their snouts, spraying all over the floor, nearly reaching my feet even from the distance I maintained. A single sow with swollen udders had a number of piglets sucking on its nipples greedily, making suckling sounds that I could hear from where I stood. The ugly sound grated on my ears and I begged to run away with my feet planted still. A deep feeling of horror rumbled in my guts as I struggled to bear witness to what lay before me. I took in a deep gasp and in that instant the entire scene stopped to stare at me with animalistic glares that chilled me. A second of silence broke out before they charged me, their snouts mashing away, dripping in gore and bits of flesh. I stumbled backwards and escaped through the door, feeling the thuds of their bodies colliding. Ragged breaths nearly seized me into a fit but I resisted the urge to slip into madness. Door number six. It was bright in the room, so bright in fact that I was nearly blinded. After some time of adjusting, I could see clearly a room encased in concrete walls painted in asylum white. Laying on the floor was a strange sight. A man wrapped in bandages, amputated at the arms and legs, lay there still. The stumps were still oozing thick blood, congealing beneath him. Bits of bone jutted out of the wounds, sharp and fractured. His nose had been torn off, leaving a jagged hole in his face. His ears were burned horribly and had completely scabbed over, sealing away his ability to hear. Slowly, he opened his mouth open and close, revealing a tongue that had been severed as he made low moans and grunts. One of the walls suddenly imploded with a crash and a creature came charging into the room. A frown curled my lips downwards as I found the creature entirely repellant. It had a man’s torso mounted upon hooved and beastly legs. It wore a mask of a cow with a golden ring pierced into its nose. An erect member with the head of a snake appeared from beneath the fur of its groin. A small tongue flicked in and out as the snake peered around the room before settling on the strange amputee man on the ground. The man began to flop back and forth, rolling slightly and he began inching like a caterpillar towards the beast man. The beast, with an animalistic bleat, leapt forward and mounted the man. Immediately, the beast began moving in and out of the man’s exposed rear end. Blood squirted out the edges as the beast savagely tore open the man’s rectum. The man moaned in fear and disgust. I felt myself gagging with revulsion at the sight and sound of this unholy communion of sex and perversion. Sweat dripped down the beast’s chest as its vigor grew in energy. After some time, the man began writhing and the beast slammed his head into the ground, forcing him to submit. The man attempted to flail but was only able to roll back and forth with pathetic motions. The entire scene sent me spiraling towards insanity as the smell of sweat and blood rose in the air. It was more than I could bear and I immediately made my escape. I stumbled backwards and scrambled out of the room, leaving the two rutting in the mire behind me. In the horrid and fleshy hallway, I suddenly felt exhausted and quite depressed. I laid down and had no longer any kind of impetus to open another door. Tears welled in my eyes inexplicably and emotions began flooding through me. There was disgust and terror, of course, still whirring around in my emotions, but even more so was the feeling of vacancy, as if I had lost a part of myself with each opened door. Where was the meaning behind being trapped in this mansion? Was I fated to wander aimlessly until my sanity loosely slipped away from me? I begged desperately to escape when my blood began whispering to me once more. “...Fate…Your fate…” “I don’t want to be here anymore,” I replied miserably. “...Fight…Fight, young one…” “I can’t! I can’t fucking do it!” I screamed, slamming my fists into the fleshy floor. “Child…one last room…ascend to the very edge…” Suddenly, a ladder fell to the ground from the ceiling with a thick and loud thud. I stared up into the deep blackness above and steeled myself with great resolve. I would not shy away from the end of my twisted journey through this mansion. With decisive movements, I climbed up the stairs and was met with the smell of aged wood and unsettled air. As soon as I reached the top of the ladder, I felt a gust of freezing air blowing past me. I shivered as I slowly crawled onto the floor of the attic, held in trepidation of whatever horrors might await me here in the dark. Suddenly, a window revealed itself and I could see the attic clearly in the light of the moon, the first evidence of anything existing beyond this mansion. Sitting with her back to me was a young woman with long black hair. Scrawled along the walls and floor were words that I could not read. She sat in front of a large canvas, drawing a strange image of a screaming face, furiously scribbling with a stick of charcoal grinded down to a near nub. I could not bring myself to speak until she turned around and revealed her face. It was my own face, aged by centuries to the point where she was nearly unrecognizable. Her brown eyes blinked languidly and she smiled gently. “Welcome. The journey here was long and I am glad to finally meet you,” she said with a gentle tone that was beginning to lull me into a trance, as if this mansion of horrors did not exist at all. “May I enter your space?” I asked quietly as to not disturb the tremulous silence that was held in the air. “Of course, you are from my own blood and flesh, you are welcome wherever I go,” the woman said with a small smile that wrinkled her eyes. “Is this why I am in this mansion? To finally meet you?” I asked. The woman nodded her head slowly. “This mansion is a manifestation of all the darkness you hold in your heart, all your traumas, pains, terror, and utter blackness that exists within you. Very few would take on the journey you embarked upon. Many would wander the foyer, walk in circles, bang on the front door, anything to avoid walking up those stairs as you did. I am the very last bit that you harbored in the darkness in your heart. The very last you must confront. It is very nice to meet you, child. My name is Pain,” the woman said, her strong and resounding voice ringing pleasantly in my mind. The woman stood up and hobbled towards me on bad knees. She pulled a blade out of her dress and held it up to me. “You must now commit the final act. You must kill me,” she said. I shook my head vehemently. “I can’t do that, don’t make me do that. I don’t want to lose you, I just finally met you,” I said, tears beginning to form in my eyes. “You will not lose me. I am you. I will live forever as a scar upon your heart. This will not be your final resting place. The world still calls for you, for more than what can be given by this mansion. Do not blaspheme yourself and your journey,” the woman said patiently with the wisdom of an ancient soul. I took the blade and held it, feeling the weight of its deadly edge. The woman smiled and nodded. I reared a hand back and plunged the dagger into her heart, all the way up to the hilt. I pulled the blade out and a torrent of blood sprayed out, showering me in heavy gore as blood poured out of her choking mouth. She fell and blood pooled beneath her. Suddenly, at that moment, the mansion began to crumble into itself. Walls collapsed, floors bent into nothing but rubble, and screams rose all around me. Horrible screams. Screeching screams. Rage and fear and fury and terror bleated out of the mansion like one long, ugly, bestial death throes. I jumped through the glass of the window and plummeted to the ground. I was finally outside and took in the air with long sucking gasps. I watched as the mansion fell into pieces. I was untethered, baptized in the blood of horror, finally willing to live and accept the commitment of being a free woman.