Title: Missing Shadows
Genre: Speculative fiction (It sounds a lot cooler than it really is :P)
Word Count: 747
Yeah. Under normal circumstances I easily break the 1k limit but somehow when I'm trying to build up to 50k, I fall short. Cruel, cruel world.
A/N: This was supposed to be the first chapter of my novel. *sigh* Anyhow, it's a short story now.
----
I am awake. Conscious at the very least. I can feel my mind stirring, slowly shaking off the drowsiness induced by my late night. My world is still dark. I take a deep breath and try to open my eyes.
My eyelids feel heavy, not the kind of heavy caused by a late night at work or a night out gone wrong. It feels as though someone's glued my eyes shut, as though my neurotransmitters have switched off and my brain is isolated from the rest of my body. Trapped inside the shell it once controlled.
Panic strikes and I feel my breathing getting irregular. My hands get clammy, my heart starts to beat faster, my body starts to shiver. I try to regain control over my mind and I force myself to take slow, deep breaths. It works. Somewhat. My heart slows down to a more normal pace, my body stops shivering. My hands are still clammy. I attempt to open my eyes again.
The world is pitch black. I sit up, frantically looking around. There is nothing to see. No light, no objects, not even shadows. I can't see.
I fall back onto the bed and cover my face with my hands. I will myself to calm down, I start breathing normally again. Baby steps. I try to visualize what I would see.
The faded yellow walls, the painting on the far end. The dim light from the lamp mounted on the wall behind me. The clock on the bedside table, it probably would be indicating that it is 8 am. The dressing table on the side, the mirror reflecting the thick, wine red curtains on the opposite wall.
I sit up and slowly open my eyes. It is a little blurry at first but then the lines become sharper. The room is exactly as I imagined it would be. The yellow of the walls, the dim light from the lamp, the clock showing 8 am, the dressing table, the mirror reflecting the wine red curtains.
Rubbing my eyes in an attempt to kick start my stalling consciousness, I stretch and get off the bed. I walk over to the dressing table and finger comb my hair into a ponytail. It has been getting long, my hair. I need to get a haircut. Looking at my reflection in the mirror, I see that my hair which I usually maintain at about shoulder length, has grown up to my elbows. I am not quite sure how it escaped my notice for this long. I guess I have just been that busy. I search the table for an elastic, I can't find one. I end up braiding my hair instead, to keep it out of my face. I notice the clock in the reflection, it's still 8 am.
Maybe the battery is dead. I walk up to the table and pick it up, I hit it against the palm of my other hand a few times in a futile attempt to bring it to life. I know I have a couple of spare batteries somewhere, I open a drawer to check.
It is pitch black. Nothing at all. Not even a shadow.
I look up and start to notice the things I'd missed. The parts of the room that I hadn't visualized are still blurry. The headboard of the bed, my slippers, the door. I rip the curtains open and it's pitch black outside. I turn around and come face to face my reflection in the mirror.
She's screaming, I can't hear it though. I can see the terror in her eyes. Her hair grows longer, the dark brown tendrils twisting around her neck forming a noose. Like a giant rope that's come to life, it tightens around the pale skin of her throat. She clutches at the bonds with white trembling fingers. Her knuckles are pale and she grapples against the stronghold, the noose is getting tighter, her eyes grow wide, her face grows pale.
My hands fly up to my neck as I start to feel something tightening around it. I touch my throat but I can't feel anything but my skin. The pressure is getting unbearable and something twists my face to look at my reflection in the mirror. She's looking at me, her eyes are begging me to help. I feel myself get lifted off the ground, I'm choking, the world is growing darker. I'm feeling dizzy.
With a loud crash the mirror shatters. It's over.
Genre: Speculative fiction (It sounds a lot cooler than it really is :P)
Word Count: 747
Yeah. Under normal circumstances I easily break the 1k limit but somehow when I'm trying to build up to 50k, I fall short. Cruel, cruel world.
A/N: This was supposed to be the first chapter of my novel. *sigh* Anyhow, it's a short story now.
----
I am awake. Conscious at the very least. I can feel my mind stirring, slowly shaking off the drowsiness induced by my late night. My world is still dark. I take a deep breath and try to open my eyes.
My eyelids feel heavy, not the kind of heavy caused by a late night at work or a night out gone wrong. It feels as though someone's glued my eyes shut, as though my neurotransmitters have switched off and my brain is isolated from the rest of my body. Trapped inside the shell it once controlled.
Panic strikes and I feel my breathing getting irregular. My hands get clammy, my heart starts to beat faster, my body starts to shiver. I try to regain control over my mind and I force myself to take slow, deep breaths. It works. Somewhat. My heart slows down to a more normal pace, my body stops shivering. My hands are still clammy. I attempt to open my eyes again.
The world is pitch black. I sit up, frantically looking around. There is nothing to see. No light, no objects, not even shadows. I can't see.
I fall back onto the bed and cover my face with my hands. I will myself to calm down, I start breathing normally again. Baby steps. I try to visualize what I would see.
The faded yellow walls, the painting on the far end. The dim light from the lamp mounted on the wall behind me. The clock on the bedside table, it probably would be indicating that it is 8 am. The dressing table on the side, the mirror reflecting the thick, wine red curtains on the opposite wall.
I sit up and slowly open my eyes. It is a little blurry at first but then the lines become sharper. The room is exactly as I imagined it would be. The yellow of the walls, the dim light from the lamp, the clock showing 8 am, the dressing table, the mirror reflecting the wine red curtains.
Rubbing my eyes in an attempt to kick start my stalling consciousness, I stretch and get off the bed. I walk over to the dressing table and finger comb my hair into a ponytail. It has been getting long, my hair. I need to get a haircut. Looking at my reflection in the mirror, I see that my hair which I usually maintain at about shoulder length, has grown up to my elbows. I am not quite sure how it escaped my notice for this long. I guess I have just been that busy. I search the table for an elastic, I can't find one. I end up braiding my hair instead, to keep it out of my face. I notice the clock in the reflection, it's still 8 am.
Maybe the battery is dead. I walk up to the table and pick it up, I hit it against the palm of my other hand a few times in a futile attempt to bring it to life. I know I have a couple of spare batteries somewhere, I open a drawer to check.
It is pitch black. Nothing at all. Not even a shadow.
I look up and start to notice the things I'd missed. The parts of the room that I hadn't visualized are still blurry. The headboard of the bed, my slippers, the door. I rip the curtains open and it's pitch black outside. I turn around and come face to face my reflection in the mirror.
She's screaming, I can't hear it though. I can see the terror in her eyes. Her hair grows longer, the dark brown tendrils twisting around her neck forming a noose. Like a giant rope that's come to life, it tightens around the pale skin of her throat. She clutches at the bonds with white trembling fingers. Her knuckles are pale and she grapples against the stronghold, the noose is getting tighter, her eyes grow wide, her face grows pale.
My hands fly up to my neck as I start to feel something tightening around it. I touch my throat but I can't feel anything but my skin. The pressure is getting unbearable and something twists my face to look at my reflection in the mirror. She's looking at me, her eyes are begging me to help. I feel myself get lifted off the ground, I'm choking, the world is growing darker. I'm feeling dizzy.
With a loud crash the mirror shatters. It's over.
- Follow Us on Twitter!
- "Join Us on Facebook!
- RSS
Contact