This is actually based off a dream I had and I tweaked it a bit to make it more story like.
You were in an outdoor compound of sorts. Why should you, a forty year old banker, be forced to run errands like this? Stuck in a bunker compound in the middle of nowhere, so that you could collect the items from a private deal. The other man hadn't arrived yet, so you were stuck at the metal table that resided in a corner of the bunker, next to a window. Bored out of your mind, you decide to reminisce in the good old times, back when your little girl was only four and loved to count things. The mysterious man finally shows up and you suddenly wonder why your boss cares so much about these damn photos. You only wish he could have sent you during the day, but there's no going back. You do the deal, count up the money and give it too him. All he does is hand you a case containing the photos then quickly exits. Or at least you think he does. You, however, are still sitting in the same spot at the metal table. Curiosity burns through your veins. You have too look at the photos. You just have too. That it where you fucked up big-time. They were all photos of that very same compound that you were sitting at. Seven of them included you, just sitting there, in the same spot. Six that were distorted beyond recognition, but you aren't sure you even want to know what they were of. None of them made any sense. So you put them back in the case. Standing up after sitting for so long was hard in your old age of forty, so you move slowly. Almost like a malnourished animal, though your stomach showed anything but. Taking your time, you walked around the corner and that is where you found the photographer or dealer, whatever he was doesn't matter much now. He looked almost like a bag of bones, everything obviously broken but nothing breaking the skin. Face down on the cold concrete, obviously dead. You've never even imagined such a gruesome sight, and your hand flies up to cover your mouth as you utter
"My God."
Quickly, fumbling, you open the door. There is no escape. There is no outside. There is only an exact replica of the bunker you just tried to leave, but wait, that's.. impossible. It was a way to the outside only minutes ago. You can even hear and feel the outside. But it doesn't seem to exist. Stepping backwards, you hear a soft sound from the hallway on your right. Almost like footsteps. You never thought your heart could beat so fast, not in your old age.
You spin, turning your back to the hallway, faster than a forty year old male should be able too. but by now, you are absolutely terrified, too terrified to distinguish nightmare from reality. You look down the hallway and see a tiny girl, picture perfect little girl. She missed you so much, and she wants to know why you left her behind. You should probably try to run.. even though I know it won't do much good. You left her there, in that house, knowing that she would die. She finally reaches you, and grins, nothing makes her happier than your terror. She stands right in front of you, arms stretched out, beckoning you. How cute, you think, she wants a hug. Guess what? You're wrong. But you bend down anyways, and try to hug her, because ghosts can't hurt you right? Wrong again. And you know it this time, you can feel the knife in your back. I guess you shouldn't have left your baby girl with her wonderfully psycho mother.
