Don't Be Afraid of the Dark. Be Afraid of What's in It.

Wasteland

I was walking in the city I was visiting, enjoying the sounds and smells and sights. It was a good day to be out and about from that hotel room. The streets and pavement were crowded today; I could barely move without bumping into someone. But that didn't matter.

Soon, I heard someone calling my name. "Eleanor Ross, Eleanor Ross," it said. I looked left and right, frightened that someone in this city, a city I had never been in, knew my name.
I realized that the person calling me was behind me, so I turned around.

I screamed in terror. I was no longer in the city, but in a dark wasteland. The area was scattered with dead trees, broken objects, and carcasses of different varieties. It was night time here, smog smothering the sky. I stood frozen, unable to comprehend how I had gotten here. I only turned around! I was supposed to be in the city, not in this barren nowhere. How had it only been daylight mere seconds ago and night time now?

It was stupid, but I tried turning back around. Wasteland everywhere. Cowering, I looked around, panicking and hoping that this was a dream. All of a sudden, I heard the person calling my name again. "Eleanor Ross...Eleanor Ross?" I spied the area frantically, trying to place where the voice was coming from. It was a smooth, deep voice, one that had a tinge to it that made me think it wasn't speaking its native language. It called my name over and over, asking where I was.

Some sort of internal instinct - or maybe it was common sense - told me not to reply and to run. I gasped in horror when I couldn't move my legs. My feet seemed to be glued to the ground. I panicked and dreaded what would happen what would happen when the owner of the voice found me. The voice called out to me, closer this time. Every few minutes it would call out, seeming to be closer each time. Still, I was not able to pinpoint where the voice was coming from. It seemed to be coming from every direction.

Minutes that seemed like hours passed. With each second, the wasteland seemed to be getting darker.

"Eleanor Ross..."

I shrieked; the voice had sounded like it whispered in my ear. I looked around best as I could, trying to see whom the voice belonged to.

Then I saw it. I can't describe it, really. For lack of a better description, it was what darkness would look like if darkness had a physical form, a form that was 12 feet tall, a nightmare that became reality. It laughed softly, and uttered something in a bizarre language. I didn't understand what it had said. It then occurred to me that my name was probably the only thing it could say in English. Its harsh tone increased, and I assume it repeated what it had said to me in its language. The thing seemed to be angry that I didn't understand.

After repeating itself once more, it let out a drawn out howl that dissolved into a frightening laugh. It grinned and reached behind its flowing cloak. It held a rope, and attached to the end was a person, hanging limp and lifeless. I was terrified. Upon closer inspection, I realized the person was my closest friend, beaten and bruised so that he was unrecognizable. Tears streamed down my face as the thing laughed. It waved its horrible hand, and everything around us caught fire. It dropped my friend into the flame, and laughed once more as I burned along with him.