4 Scary Stories for the Dying Season

Masks

After a long day, I got ready for bed, feeling the tension building in my chest from the draining day behind me. I brushed my teeth, got in my pajamas, and looked at myself in the mirror. With a deep breath, I told myself, "You did good today." I then got in bed, closed my eyes, and drifted into a slumber, dreading the moment when I would arise again just to do the same routine again. 

But when I opened my eyes, I wasn't expecting what I would awake to...

A bag was thrown off my head, as light flooded my pupils. I strained but found quickly that my body was restrained to a chair. 5 strangers sat in front of me, their chairs arranged in a semi-circle, each with a mask on their face, represented with a different emotion. From left to right the emotions read sadness, disgust, anger, anxiety, and happiness. Confusion flooded my expression as I whispered, "Hello?" Not a single soul dared to answer, Sadness stood up and walked toward my chair. They released just one of my hands from the leg and held out my arm, palm facing up. They reached into its pocket, pulled out a razor blade, and gently poked my skin, just underneath the inside of my elbow. My pulse raced, and I tried to squirm from their grasp, "Wait, no, please!" I cried as the stranger pulled the razor blade down to the base of my hand, leaving a deep gash that poured out blood. My breathing heavied as I looked down at the wound. Instantly my head felt light. Sadness sat back down in his chair and just watched me struggle.

Disgust stood up next and stood in front of me. I could feel it evaluating me, then with a familiar voice, it complained, "You're absolutely disgusting, a complete slob. Look at you, you look like you don't care if you're seen dead or alive. Is that really how you want people to remember you? A disgusting pig?" They scoffed at me, My eyes narrowed, "Why are you doing this to me." I pleaded. Disgust knelt, "Because you're a mess up who can't do anything right, and that's all you'll ever amount to." And with that, they stood up, walked back to its seat, and watched me. My brain felt depleted, and I struggled with the will to live.

Anger stood up next, and they walked up to me, spreading their legs so they straddled the outside of mine which were so tightly tied to the chair. Then with a mighty fist, they swung down and knocked out one of my teeth. The pain surged through my cheek and down my neck. The stranger lifted another fist, and made a powerful collision with the other side, forcing my eye closed. I could feel a black eye forming, it throbbed and cried in pain from my socket. They dropped their fists, grabbed both sides of my chair, and slammed my body to the ground. My head collided with the floor, and my vision was blurry. The masked individual brought their foot back and delivered a powerful blow to the chin. The person lifted their mask just enough to spit on my body, which at this point felt more like a corpse. The angry individual then walked back to their chair, sat down, and watched my eyes roll back in my head.

Anxiety must have stood up next because I was jolted awake as the masked terror screeched in my ear. I couldn't help but scream with them. My pulse raced, as my face hurt, my forearm oozed blood, and my mental state gradually declined. My body was quaking as the tears streamed down my face. The anxiety just screamed in my ear, sending shock flying through my veins. "Please, please let me go. Please free me, please, I promise I won't tell anyone about this. Please, I can't take anymore. Please, please, please, please, please." I pleaded. I know I must have sounded annoying, like a child crying for their favorite toy, but I felt it was the only thing I could do. Anxiety walked back to their chair, sat down, curled their arms around their knees, and rocked back and forth, watching me. 

Happiness was the last emotion left, as they reached under their chair. I could feel my body thrashing from fear of what was next. Tears pooled at my cheek on the floor, and the happy individual grabbed my chair and hoisted my body upright. They knelt in front of me and grabbed my shredded forearm. They reached into a bag and pulled out a needle and thread. One by one, happiness repaired my battered arm. When they finished sewing my wound back together, they sanitized the area and wrapped my arm in a bandage. My tears slowed, "Why..." Was all my throat would let pass. They pulled out two ice packs, one for my eye, and the other for my cheek. The individual cut me free from my restraints and motioned for me to hold the ice packs in place. I happily complied, as long as I wasn't going to be hurt anymore, I would follow their rules. The person pulled out ibuprofen and water and gently tipped my head back to allow me to easily swallow the pills. My heart rate slowed, and I sniffled my running nose. The happy individual did not walk back to their chair but rather stayed knelt before me. "You did good today." I could hear them say with a smile. I looked with shock at the masked person before me, "What did you say?" I asked, as simultaneously each stranger pulled the mask from their faces. They were all me, and now shared the same pain I did. Sadness had a long bleeding gash in its arm, disgust looked mentally drained, anger was covered in bruises and broken teeth, anxiety has its hands gripped in its hair, violently shaking.

And happiness looked at me with a smile, a now long set of bandaged stitches on their arm, ice packs on their head, and a black eye. "You did good today." Were the last words I heard as I woke up in my bed, my body sweating, my heart racing. I ran to the bathroom mirror and saw what I had seen before I went to bed, a bandaged set of stitches, lost teeth, and a broken individual staring back at me. Tears poured from my eyes, as I gripped the sink for support. "You did so good today." I cried, "I am so proud of you." 

I curled up on the floor and cried. For the first time in my life, I was happy to be alive.