Original Fiction >> Horror
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One day in English, we were required to write a story (any kind)
starting with a sentence our teacher gave us. After writing two paragraphs, I became attached to my
writing and didn't want to see it off so I wrote some random dribble and turned that in, keeping
this with me.
The story actually is a branch off to my comic that I've been developing for some time now. The
basic plot is that a young girl has the ability to time travel and documents the mysteries that
history keeps for itself for the Government (such as the disappearance of the Philadelphia
Experiment, Roswell, how Alexander the Great really died, ect.). So that explains the ending a bit
on why one character speaks a bit funny. I hope you enjoy.
Take note, this story has only been partially beta'd. It has not been
Project Escape: Witness © Spirit Archer
The beat of my heart stopped once the sound of the first floor door creaked open as I listened from
the upstairs closet. The sound of our breathing settled while we sat quietly within the old closet,
given to my family from my late grandmother. It was filled with exotic coats from the east, making
the space inside for two fourteen-year-old girls seem impossible. Being as creative as I was, I
found space underneath the coats and quickly shoved Alice inside, hoping it was possible for us to
fit, and not caring about discarding a few coats out. It would be quite obvious on where we were
hiding if were a few coats lying about. It was rather easy to find room and here we sit, quiet as
two mice hiding from a cat. Our situation was exactly as I had just described.
Recently, we had meddled in affairs that were not ours. What we fell upon, was the atrocity of
murder in the process. The grotesque sound of human flesh ripping apart between the damp walls of
the lonely alleyway of London will forever be etched in our minds. The images alone brought us never
ending nightmares for weeks to come. Fear would often mistaken us for weak children, as we would
remember the man who had done the murder. We would remember anywhere and everywhere, bringing us
slightly closer to hysteria. We never spoke of the incident to another soul, which might be the
reason of our near insanity. If we didn't have each other, then surely we would have been insane a
long time ago.
I can never forget the man who had done the solemn crime as long as I live. At first, he seemed
unusually short in the dark, but once he stood up, a nearby torch lightly illuminated a faint
outline of the side of his body. He was tall, possibly shorter than Alice's father and wore a long,
dark coat with a dark top hat. He seemed like gentleman from behind, but within him held a
reverential murderer. Within his grasp, was a simple knife, possibly taken within his own home. The
blade did not look dull, but rather sharp, easy to cut through any person's skin. The deadly blade
held a thick liquid of a dark crimson which it had obtained from its masters earlier attack and laid
before him, a slain woman. The new corpse laid against the uncaring, cold wall, showing what only
medical doctors were able to see. Her inner organs were strewn about, her face seemed mutilated and
one of her ears was missing. The scene, I prayed, was apocryphal.
With fear in our hearts, we turned to flee, but in my blunder, I tripped over a loose cobble stone,
and made a frightening gasp. As I sat on the ground next to my dearest friend, I turned to the man.
His body had turned towards us, and although his person was almost hidden by the night, the outline
of his body shown, and his eyes bright. His eyes are what I remember most. They illuminated the
intent of what it seemed, hysteria to a level where he could possibly control it. They seemed
haggard and contained no traces of craven emotions, but a bit of rancor and disconsolation also held
him to where he was no ordinary man. His eyes startled me, I could not move once he had started
coming our way.
I was paralyzed by the utmost fear that I had never felt before. Not even my dearest friend, Alice,
could lift me from my trembling position on the cold ground. I was fearful of the monster in front
of us. I feared of our early demise, would he kill us? It seemed the answer was already decided if I
sat any longer, but my fear kept a hold of me tight. Memories of my family would flash through my
mind as he approached closer. Suddenly, the sound of an old window opening from a far broke my
trance. Realizing the full extent of our situation, I took my cohort's hand, lifted all my mass up
and pushed Alice forward.
Our Victorian dresses were a nuisance to us. As we tried to escape the sights of the criminal, they
became heavier and heavier on our petite bodies. The material we had gathered in our hands from our
dresses occasionally slipped to their place, causing us to slip from time to time. Our breathing was
heavy, and was concentrated solely on the situation. Our breaths were used to help us keep from
collapsing from fear, rather than calling for help. The man, as we knew he was still trailing us,
was easy to hear. His feet made clop sounds amongst the cobble stones, as ours did the same. We soon
heard the clop sounds become faster, and realized he had started running.
It seemed unrealistic, but then his footsteps stopped, and only ours were echoing through the lower
part of the city. We feared that he would appear anywhere. We feared our lives would be like the
woman behind us. We feared for our futures.
Finally, after long last, we had arrived at a main road, where we had seen a constable walking his
night shift. We eagerly told him our story in tired breathes which he seemed most intrigued in, and
left us at a safe place, amongst others on night watch for the Victoria Police. Tired as we were, we
never told our parents, in fear that the murderer would find us. We kept quiet as the newspaper held
the murder on its headlines. We fled the police's safe hands, as we did not want to be involved with
it at all.
Unbeknownst to us, the man had apparently proceeded in following us that night to an extent, and
would later shadow us from a far, and without our attainments. This would leave us in our current
predicament. We were staying at my aunt's home, because she had taken ill and we felt the need to
visit her. She had become better within two weeks of our visit, and she was as right as rain. So
excited she was, she fled to the city for a day, and promised to be home before dusk. She was past
her said time, and we worried a bit, but her maids assured us, she must have forgotten the time,
which was usual for her, and is having the merry time she didn't have for the past few weeks.
This comforted our fears that she might have forgotten her promise, and sat comfortably in the
Lounge room on the first floor, reading "Through the Looking-Glass" by Lewis Carroll
together. What lead us to this dreaded closet was that one of the maids came frantically running in,
and shooing us to the second floor, while muttering us to hide. The only indication of this reason
was her whispered words to us, 'he's here!'
This frightened us temporarily. We didn't know who 'he' was exactly. We know of no one who hated our
family, or had grudges to our knowledge. Those were kept secret amongst our parents, but as Alice
peeked through the window of the guest bedroom on the second floor where we stayed, she quietly
cried, 'he! The horrid man!'
So here we sit, in this closet with coats from the east, listening as the man walks up the
staircase. We fear for our lives once more, because this could only mean that our fate would be the
same as the woman before. His footsteps halted and for a few moments, there was silence, then it
started again, but towards our room. We shivered together; the inscrutable man was going to render
us to death! That is, until a shriek was heard, and then a scuffle. Even though it was foolish, I
slowly opened the closet door to see what was ensuing. Alice tugged on my arm not to, but we both
were stricken by awe, as two of my dear aunts maids had thrown themselves onto the man, to keep him
away from us. Seeing this as a glorious opportunity, I pushed open the doors and fell out in to a
heap in front of the closet, Alice following close behind, and toppling on top of my person.
I tried raising my body, signaling her to stand. She took this, and stood, taking me with her. As
much as we wanted to help the maids, we ran. In fear of our lives once again, and because they had
given us the chance to live. We raced downstairs, through the lounge, and out the doors into the
city air. It was night again, but we didn't mind. We were too worried about ourselves, for if we had
passed, our family lines would cease to end. Our parents would be distraught, and there would be so
many more consequences behind it. Who would give a detailed description of the murderer if we
finally gained enough valor to tell the police?
We then noticed a silhouette of a man up ahead. He was a bit taller than us, but we didn't mind at
all, as long as he listened to us. He must have heard our breaths, the movement of our dresses, and
our feet against the cobblestone behind him, for he stopped and turned around. We stopped in front
of him and caught our breath. I looked up, as he took off his top hat. To my surprise, it was no
gentleman! It was a woman in drag! It was no ordinary woman either, it was our recent friend.
"What's wrong with you two?" she questioned us in her foreign accent. She held her top hat under her
arm as she took an unusual stance while she stood.
"My auntie's maids! They're in danger! They're with that man!" I breathed out and grabbed on to her
arm, "please do something!"
"What man?" she questioned, a bit of anxiety rising in her voice. Alice then proceeded in grabbing
her other arm.
"The man we saw those weeks ago!"
"That man?!" her voice changed from anxiety to full excitement. She gave a wicked smile and laughed,
"I'll get his picture now!" She pulled out an odd looking contraption from inside her coat, the
smaller version of our cameras. Though, I will never know how it works, it just seems like pure
witch craft to me.
"This is serious!" Alice cried out, tugging on her arm again.
"Don't worry! I'll help your aunt's maids if I can, but I can't promise anything. I'm not Superman,
y'know?" she began to walk in strides towards my aunts' home.
Alice and I looked at each other in pure terror. We knew our friend was obsessed with photos for her
home, but to take one of a murderer? Is this what she was really here for? To capture the picture of
Jack the Ripper?
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The preceeding was a work of fiction. Any statements regarding any person, place, or other entity (real or imaginary) is the sole responibility of the author of this work of fiction. Fan Works Inc. takes no responsibility for the content of user submitted stories. All stories based on real people are works of fiction and do not necessarily reflect on the nature of the individuals featured. All stories based on other copyrighted works are written with authors knowing that these works violate copyright laws.
Please see the Terms of Service for more information.