\"Writing.Com
*Magnify*
SPONSORED LINKS
Printed from https://shop.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1174875-The-Mindless-Void
Item Icon
\"Reading Printer Friendly Page Tell A Friend
No ratings.
Rated: GC · Short Story · Horror/Scary · #1174875
This is actually based on a bad dream I had once.
The Mindless Void
By: Jade Hannigan
11/2006



In a room in the basement the walls are lined with red silks and fabrics of the strangest kind. A bed was in the middle of the room, and people were lying on the floor around it. They all seemed cold, seemed dead. I looked at the faces one by one, and felt cold inside too. I had to fix that but with what? Searching intensively for the object I craved hoping it would cure me of this feeling I have.

I look around the room. Seeing more and more death. On one wall was a girl. She was naked and bleeding from under her breast, around her mouth, and spots on her stomach and arms. Her arms were lifeless, but her eyes would move ever so slightly. From time to time she would blink. She rolled her head over to rest on her other shoulder. As her hand twitched, something rolled out of it. She slowly closed her eyes, and opened them again. I looked her in the eyes, staring at them. Watching her I got butterflies in my stomach. Wishing it away, wanting them to fly out of my mouth into the air. I closed my eyes for a second. Was I hoping that when I opened my eyes she would just fall over dead? Did I want her dead; did I want her to be dead cause thats how I feet inside? Or did I close my eyes hoping that she would just walk out of here. That she found what she was looking for and decide to go back to where ever she came from?

I opened my eyes and looked at hers once more. Her eyes were frozen and lifeless. Her head falls to meet her knees that where pulled up to her chest. Her body didn't move after that. Her body just remained there, like art on display. I turned un-fazed by this.

On the other side of the room was a tray. A stainless steal tray. Old and used looking. On this tray was an assortment of tools. It contained different sizes of forceps and scalpels, some in shapes of hooks, others, like razors. The ones like hooks have been used. There was meat, and flesh, and chunks of blood on them. Some were old, they where browning with age and what appeared to be rust. Some were new, one looked like it has never been used. Just looking at them made the butterflies in my stomach flutter again. Was this caused by fear? Knowing what they are for, how they are used, what damage they can do. Or was the butterflies just conjured up from the excitement, anticipation, knowing what they were used for, how they were used, and what damages they have and can do?

This is not what I was looking for. I look around and I see a mirror. A big mirror. Like the ones you see in the big houses that line the whole bathroom wall. The mirror is stained with the history of this room. The mirror, If it could tell you a story, would tell you of the horrors that have happened in the past, but It would also tell you the tail about a time When happiness was alive. It would tell you about a time I felt alive, A time when I wasn't scared. It would tell you a tail about a boy and the girl he loved. How they were happy, how there lives changed into some thing more.
The mirror reflected my face. I didn't recognize myself. I looked tired, worn out; I didn't look like myself. Disgusted with the face in the mirror, smiling at me. Throwing her head back and laughing bedeviling me I feel the hate for her; I want nothing more then to make that part of me dead. The more I look into the girls eyes, the deader I feel on the inside. What can I do to feel alive again?

I need to fix that.

I wipe the face off the mirror, smearing the blood, covering that reflection. I turn away from the mirror. Lost, not knowing what to do. I hear a voice from the other side of the room.

Its a man

"Follow that cloud baby, Follow it to me. See that cloud, get it!"

Hes tall and tired looking. His face pasty and pail. Like he has been caught in between a cold and a dead place. Bluish lips, eyes cold inside, glossy. His smile looked like pills, a cocaine smile they say. He summons me to him. I go to him and smile. This is the man I love, but he has changed. I guess we both did. We kiss.

"I've missed you since you've been gone. where have you been?"

I kiss him again tasting the plastic on his tongue. Feeling more and more alive. I kiss him, tasting the high hes on. I open my eyes and look in his and I see nothing. Its blank, cold and dead. Then he blinks and I see more. He'll lives in his mind. I can see that now.

He smiles at me.

"I love you!"

He whispers in my ear, sending shivers down my spine. The butterflies come again and make me want something more. His voice so dark and disturbed, but still caring. His breath, cold and numbing. Numbing like new addiction. Its perfect, as I take it into my mind and release all the negativity, the coldness, the hate, pain and tears. I have been holding back since my last addiction

I release it all. I close my eyes and lay on my back, feeling the softness of the sheets, and the warmth. I open my eyes to see it all leaving me.
All the pain I have ever felt, I cant fell it now. Its a gone, The hate. I don't hate any more; I love them all! The tears have faded as well. The tears have been dried up, and blown away like dust in the wind.

I feel the eyes roll to the back of my head, and I start smiling. I am happy again, I'm alive, and I'm fine. The man I love sit's next to me and lays down. Putting his arm under my head. Pulling me closer. Kissing my forehead,

"I love you, I love you, I love you."

He continues to whisper to me. With his cold breath, that suddenly feels like death. Brushing up against me once again. I block out the sudden fear I feel, I block out the idea of it, and close my eyes.

But something stirs, some thing by my feet moves. What is it? I am thinking to my self. What is it that is keeping me from my sleep? I get up, out of bed. Walking back and forth. Staring at whats on the foot of my bed. My love sits up, Looks at me, and looks at the foot of the bed.

There is a box.

He pulls his legs to him, Sitting Indian style slowly smiling to him self. His eyes look at me.

"Stop it!"

The box moves.

"Stop it!"

I scream at him,

"Make it stop"

I cover my ears and the noise of the moving box echoes in my mind. Bouncing of the walls in my brain driving me insane. I cover my ears, and close my eyes willing it all away. Then I have nothing. I hear nothing. All goes dead inside. Once again. I feel that deadness I had before I feel NUMB. I open my eyes and see the box shaking.

He sits back and looks at me. With the you know what to do look. He stars at me, driving me, making me feel like I Am the only one who can stop this. I look around the room, On a stand by the bed is a gun. I reach for it and let one off. I fire at the box, The same box that woke me up from my long missing happiness. I shoot it again and stop. Blood begins to come out of the hole.

The box starts to bleed. Than Starts to pour. The blood is poring on to the bed, But it starts moving again. The man smiles at me and starts rocking back and forth laughing. I fire at the box again emptying the gun into it. He starts clapping his hand as the box stops moving. He looks at me and I can hear in my mind him saying job well done. He lies back on the bed resting his head on his hands. Smiling and laughing so loud it make me smile too. I look at the box and think in my mine about what carnage I just produced.

I'm laughing and feel that happiness I had before the box showed up. I spin in circles holding the gun high in the air. I stopped and walked over to the box.
I open the bloodied box and the blood is thick and still warm. I play with the blood wiping it off on my shirt and there is a heart inside. Still betting, pulsing air. I can feel the heart suffocating, starving for blood. Like a fish starving for water. It hurts me, I feel myself dieing with the heart. I look around and the room feels like it is spinning. I look at my reflection and I scream. I hate my self more then ever; I throw the gun at the mirror and hit the mirror with my bloodied fist, smashing it to pieces.
As the glass shatters around me I let it all go and cry. I feel deader then I have ever felt. Then I go numb again. I look around nothing seems real any more. I walk to a door that leads to the bathroom. I stop for a second and look in the mirror. The reflection is not of me anymore, But it is. The eyes are the same, Just tiered and swelling with tears. My smile. What smile, I don't remember what I look like when I smile. Its been so long. My once flawless skin now looks dried out and tiered like my eyes.

I was once so beautiful. I could walk in a room and smile, and everyone around me would stop what they were doing and they would smile at me and feel better about there day. I could have done so much with my life. I could have been someone. I could have done... anything.

I need to get my self out of here; I need to reconnect with my self. Something needs to be done. I need a shower so I can think clearly.

I take off my bloodied cloths and pieces of my flesh fall off. Think of it as layers of truth. Off they go, and now reveled. I Step over these 'pieces of truth' Like i have for all these years. Blocking them, ignoring them. Not dealing with them.

I pull back the shower curtain and step inside and there is some one in there. Blankly I looked at her and she looks like I used to. Beautiful, innocent, and happy, but something is wrong. Her heart is missing, and her eyes too are fixed and staring blankly at nothing. I reach into her chest cavity, its warm and blood is drizzling down my arm. I feel around and grab hold of the cold metal. I turn it as the water turns on and ...

I wake up!
© Copyright 2006 Stitches 13 (jadesmile82 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Printed from https://shop.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1174875-The-Mindless-Void