There is a box-like room, where you see a desk with a few books on top. A crystal-like oil lamp lighting a small portion of the room, with a window that takes half of the room with crystal-clear glass. There were curtains too short for the window, colored with a silver-like shush. A old clock that is as old as the last person had built it. The walls were made made with stone, but painted like an white opal gem.
You are holding a book, an old sheet of paper, and a old feather quill in hand. There's an old man comes in through the door, he sits in the stool behind the desk and begins to write on the sheets of paper, just lying on to of the desk. The old man isn't really there, but as a memory of what used to be there before and dissappear right in front of your eyes. You wonder what had just happened, but is quickly distracted by how cold the room became.
The night sky looked as an oil painted vision of a painter saw within their mind. The stars twinkled dimed in the night sky as the clouds soon came to cover the night sky with a storm to swish and brew.
You look back into your book in one hand with your old sheet of paper and old feather in your other hand. The oil from the crystal-like oil lamp has almost burnt out and is in need of change. Soon the voices come to the mind of those that have passed and were looking for someone to speak back to listen to what their stories needed to be heard.
Just as you were about to walk away, the voices began to become louder and harsher than before. You began to feel like the colder the room, the the darker you see as the light from the lamp continues to dim down into darkness.
Then you feel the coldness the room became and began to see the faces of the voices that you heard. They were angry and despised by your presence. Suddenly it hard to breathe, your eyes began to feel heavy, the book with an old sheet of paper in you hand and the old feather in the other, fell onto the floor and your knees on the floor. Your body suddenly becomes heavy and hard to hold up.
The ground feels cold as your face falls on the floor as well, you have a hard time to keep your eyes open, those voices smile as you soon close your eyes for the one last time.
Don't you see anything? NO. You don't because you are now dead and what you just experienced was a dream that soon became a nightmare. You were dying from the start, and you can't return from death. Sorry, but this is not your typical sad story, but a twist of fate.
~The End~
YOU ARE READING
Short and Scary stories
NouvellesThese stories will be short and scary, but will be sad and very emotional as well. There will also be blood and gore involved. Please becareful as you ( my readers ) read this book. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!
