A Short Horror Story

Short Horror Story

Blair staggered up the stairs of the crowded house, laughing drunkenly. She tripped on the top stair and sprawled on her face, the clear liquor in her cup sloshing over the side and into the rug. She stared at the widening pool of alcohol now sending heady fumes into Blair's face. She dragged herself up using the rail and stumbled through the nearest door. It was a bedroom but thankfully there was no one in it. Blair flung open the doors to the wardrobe but didn't get anything out.

Suddenly the world was tipping around her and she fell into the wardrobe, hitting her head hard against the backboard. Blair knocked herself out cold, and the door closed on her, hiding her from the world.

---

Bells were ringing in Blair's ears. Something was banging on the inside of her head and her stomach was roiling. She blearily opened her eyes, realising that she had no idea where she was. The last thing she could remember was playing a drinking game with Ash in the dining room. She slowly pulled herself up, some instinctive (or perhaps it was just memory) part of her saying that if she got up to quickly it would feel like someone stabbed her in the eyeballs.

She felt around in the dark until she found a handle on one of the walls. God bless whoever put a handle on the inside of whatever she was in, Blair thought as she pushed it open. Fortunately, the curtains weren't all the way open in the room, so it wasn't too bright. Blair could see that it was morning though.

She turned around and realised she had been in the wardrobe. I must've been really drunk last night, she recollected, a little shamefully. Blair carefully shut the door and mooched out of the bedroom. On the rug on the landing of the first floor was a big stain of liquor with an abandoned cup beside it. What kind of person would not clean that up, she thought scornfully. Then a blurry memory returned to her. Something about tripping over the top step last night.

"Whoops," she muttered to herself.

Blair found her way into the kitchen, where she poured herself a large glass of water and knocked down a couple of aspirins. A nasty headache was blooming behind her eyes. She opened the fridge and stared listlessly into it before grabbing a slice of pizza. She stuck it in the microwave and watched it turn around and around. Then she slumped into the lounge room and plonked herself on the couch.

Apparently everyone else had left. There was no one else around, though the remnants of the party lay littered around the house. It was Ash's house, one of Blair's best friends. Ash often threw house parties. She was a social butterfly and enjoyed the attention, though she didn't enjoy having to clean up after everyone.

The clock on the wall read 10.10am. If Ash wasn't already awake, she'd probably drag herself out by lunchtime. Then hopefully she'd give Blair a lift home because Blair didn't have her car.

She checked her text messages, but no one had sent her anything since last night. That was a bit unusual. After most of the parties Blair went to there was always a dozen people texting her the next day. Blair then switched to Snapchat, but there was nothing. That was really weird. No one had posted anything on their stories. No one had texted her; it was as though the party hadn't even happened.

Hey Mum, Blair texted, I'll be back at my house tonight if you were worried. I was just at a party at Ash's.

Blair's mother didn't reply, so she switched off her phone and picked up a magazine on the table. There was really nothing interesting in it, but Blair had to do something while she waited for Ash to wake up.

It was 12.30pm by the time Ash sauntered into the kitchen.

"Mornin' Blair," she called, fair to cheery for Blair's liking. She grumbled back a response.