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The silence was deafening. That was her first thought. It didn't make sense, but it was the only way she could describe her surroundings. Her feet crunching the smooth white sand beneath her, the air whispering rumours and legends in her ears, but she still thought the silence was absolute. Maybe it was because of the birds, or in this case the absence of them. There wasn't a single one flying overhead, no living soul in sight. She was completely alone. And then there was the cottage. She had only heard stories about, that's all anyone ever heard about anything. She didn't believe in them either, but she had felt the need to see it for her own eyes. The place where a murderer had lived a hundred years ago; where dragons evolved into sea lizards; where the four Giants had imprisoned Majora the first time it had devastated Termina. Of course, the crazier the ideas got the less she believed the cottage even existed. But it did, she could see it now. No wonder no one ever had before, it had taken her a week to find it. She was on the most remote part of the beach, behind an extension of the field, hidden completely from view. The only place no one even went to. Even seeing it made her knees tremble. The wood from which it was made was faded, rotten, breaking off in pieces; it had probably not been taken care of properly in a decade. All of her senses pushed her away from the place, warding her off. She could even swear hearing a faint warning ringing in her ears, getting louder as she got closer. Closer? Suddenly the door was standing menacingly in front of her. When had she walked here? She didn't even remember deciding to move. Why was she reaching for the handle? She shook herself. It was all her imagination, obviously, no one had brought her here. It had all been her curiosity and her own choices. She took a deep breath to steady herself. Should she go in? The door wasn't even closed properly, only barely holding on to the remaining hinge that hadn't been torn from the wall. It wasn't as if there was anyone there, she had nothing to fear.
She reached for the handle again, this time conscious of her decision, but door decided to open on its own. She was frozen, her hand in midair. The door had simply opened in front of her, a hellish creaking seeping from its base, the hundred voices of torture. Suddenly it wasn't the silence that was deafening, but her heartbeats instead. They were pounding on her head with hammers, urging her to run. But, why should she? It had probably been the wind, the door was so weak even the movement of her hand must have pushed it open. If the cottage was welcoming her, why should she refuse it? Two steps carried her over the threshold, and the third froze her in the middle of the cottage. She couldn't see anything even though there were windows on the other side. It was probably the dust. It must have gotten so think on the windows that no light could pour through.
She didn't know what to think of her surroundings. There were objects knocked to the ground, a lamp, a piece of china, but nothing the wind couldn't have cause. It didn't seem strange or deserving of all those horror stories at all. But there was something in the air. It stunk the entire cottage, like the blinding Sun that couldn't make its way inside. Then there was the howling from Hell once again. Panicked, she turned to see what it was, but it was too late. With the entry shut, the air had turned pitch black. Even the shape of her fingers seemed to melt away in front of her. Her breathing intensified as she panicked. What was going on? Suddenly lightning and the silhouette of a man in front of her. What? Lightning? She didn't remember clouds in the Sky, and how was it that lightning made its way into the house but not sunlight? But it had happened, and thunder soon rumbled around her. A man, she wasn't alone. She screamed, took a step back. Her feet crunched the floor, but there was no sand in here. She looked down as more lightning flashed. A picture was on the ground, the glass shattered around it. Against her better judgement, she crouched and grabbed it between her hands. Her skin turned ice cold and her eyes widened. There was something on the portrait and she didn't need light to know. It was blood, fresh, dark, penetrating blood. She was not alone. She shot back up and moved further back. There was more lightning, but she didn't see anyone. However, she did see the picture. The picture she hadn't seen in over a year. Her and him. Him, who she hadn't seen in as long as the picture. That was all the coincidences she could take. She slammed at the closed door, completely tearing it off as she fell onto the sand outside, the sound of screaming strong in her ears and closed mouth.
"It must have been a terrible sight."
She pushed herself off the ground, quite sure someone had spoken. It was getting dark, how long had she been there? The tears that had cried her into sleep had left trails on her face, which were now covered with sand. She looked around. "The cottage, it shows us what we most want to see but cannot bear to look at." A whisper, her ears itched. It surely must be her imagination. All this, fabricated in the depths of her mind. "You must miss him terribly. To love and not want, to be wanted but not loved. Terrible, terrible." She covered her ears with her hands, fresh tears sprouting from her closed eyes. "You'd give anything, for what has been done cannot undo itself. Anything at all..." The pounding on her head was back, pushing her to shrunken position, a position in which we think we're safe and home. Her eyes were still closed, but she could feel a cloak, a shadow. "You choose to give anything to see. You want to give everything for him..." She whimpered, pulling herself to be smaller. But somewhere in her, there was an urge, a desperate need. A wish best left unsaid, a feeling she could not suppress.
She nodded.
"You give, and I take..." Fingers slithering across her cheek and pain. Pain and darkness. She breathed out, a long everlasting breath. Lightning flashed, thunder boomed.
There was no cottage. And there was no cloaked man.
And there was no Her.
---------- Post added 03-30-2014 at 01:13 AM ---------- Previous post was 09-16-2013 at 08:40 PM ----------
*Shane leaves to "For Every End, A New Beginning" in Great Bay Coast.*
She reached for the handle again, this time conscious of her decision, but door decided to open on its own. She was frozen, her hand in midair. The door had simply opened in front of her, a hellish creaking seeping from its base, the hundred voices of torture. Suddenly it wasn't the silence that was deafening, but her heartbeats instead. They were pounding on her head with hammers, urging her to run. But, why should she? It had probably been the wind, the door was so weak even the movement of her hand must have pushed it open. If the cottage was welcoming her, why should she refuse it? Two steps carried her over the threshold, and the third froze her in the middle of the cottage. She couldn't see anything even though there were windows on the other side. It was probably the dust. It must have gotten so think on the windows that no light could pour through.
She didn't know what to think of her surroundings. There were objects knocked to the ground, a lamp, a piece of china, but nothing the wind couldn't have cause. It didn't seem strange or deserving of all those horror stories at all. But there was something in the air. It stunk the entire cottage, like the blinding Sun that couldn't make its way inside. Then there was the howling from Hell once again. Panicked, she turned to see what it was, but it was too late. With the entry shut, the air had turned pitch black. Even the shape of her fingers seemed to melt away in front of her. Her breathing intensified as she panicked. What was going on? Suddenly lightning and the silhouette of a man in front of her. What? Lightning? She didn't remember clouds in the Sky, and how was it that lightning made its way into the house but not sunlight? But it had happened, and thunder soon rumbled around her. A man, she wasn't alone. She screamed, took a step back. Her feet crunched the floor, but there was no sand in here. She looked down as more lightning flashed. A picture was on the ground, the glass shattered around it. Against her better judgement, she crouched and grabbed it between her hands. Her skin turned ice cold and her eyes widened. There was something on the portrait and she didn't need light to know. It was blood, fresh, dark, penetrating blood. She was not alone. She shot back up and moved further back. There was more lightning, but she didn't see anyone. However, she did see the picture. The picture she hadn't seen in over a year. Her and him. Him, who she hadn't seen in as long as the picture. That was all the coincidences she could take. She slammed at the closed door, completely tearing it off as she fell onto the sand outside, the sound of screaming strong in her ears and closed mouth.
"It must have been a terrible sight."
She pushed herself off the ground, quite sure someone had spoken. It was getting dark, how long had she been there? The tears that had cried her into sleep had left trails on her face, which were now covered with sand. She looked around. "The cottage, it shows us what we most want to see but cannot bear to look at." A whisper, her ears itched. It surely must be her imagination. All this, fabricated in the depths of her mind. "You must miss him terribly. To love and not want, to be wanted but not loved. Terrible, terrible." She covered her ears with her hands, fresh tears sprouting from her closed eyes. "You'd give anything, for what has been done cannot undo itself. Anything at all..." The pounding on her head was back, pushing her to shrunken position, a position in which we think we're safe and home. Her eyes were still closed, but she could feel a cloak, a shadow. "You choose to give anything to see. You want to give everything for him..." She whimpered, pulling herself to be smaller. But somewhere in her, there was an urge, a desperate need. A wish best left unsaid, a feeling she could not suppress.
She nodded.
"You give, and I take..." Fingers slithering across her cheek and pain. Pain and darkness. She breathed out, a long everlasting breath. Lightning flashed, thunder boomed.
There was no cottage. And there was no cloaked man.
And there was no Her.
---------- Post added 03-30-2014 at 01:13 AM ---------- Previous post was 09-16-2013 at 08:40 PM ----------
*Shane leaves to "For Every End, A New Beginning" in Great Bay Coast.*