Until Dawn

I'm not sure whether or not this is any good, but enjoy anyway!

Silence.

It was deafening.

Echoing all around her.

There was no sound. Not the sound of wind whistling through the trees, not the sound of leaves crunching beneath her feet, not even the sound of her own steady breathing.

She was lost.

She knew nothing of where she was, why she was there or what she could do to escape.

All she knew was that she was in a dark forest. And she was walking.

The last thing she could remember was dressing in her Sunday finest- a cotton dress with a corset and soft leather boots, and leaving to go to the market. Then she was here.

Something was niggling at the corner of her brain. A sensation of forgotten knowledge that marked the answer to why she was here. But every time she tried to grab onto it, coax it the small spark of memory into existence, it darted away. Evading her, leaving her with nothing more then the notion of familiarity.

She was coming towards the end of the forest now, her thin cotton dress dancing in the breeze and straggling around her ankles. Her dishevelled woollen cardigan doing little to fend of the sudden chill enveloping her.

A feeling of urgency rose up inside her, sweeping over her like a tidal wave of distress.

She broke out into a run, not knowing why, but knowing all the same that if she did not hurry something terrible would happen.

Bursting out of the woods, she continued in a dead sprint across the dead, yellowing grass, towards the decaying inn, perched out-of-place, like a sooty pigeon in the middle of a desert.

Her frantic run slowed slightly. It was becoming difficult to continue. Like running through honey, thick and sticky.

Stumbling to her knees, she began to crawl towards the ancient inn, the feeling of terror clawing up inside her. Running it's skeleton-like fingers up and down her spine. Making her shiver as though someone had drawn their nails down a blackboard.

Digging her fingers into the dirt, she pulled herself to the first step, failing to notice the empty snickers wrapper floating on the breeze.

Her nails broken and bloody, she stood on the bottom step, staring with eerie curiosity at the faded and cracked sign hanging from the roof.

She was struck by a sudden flash of memory.

A bustling crowd, murmuring with excitement.

A busy street, so full of people that some had to run on the roofs to get to their destination.

A kind old women, giving her a small bread roll and some cheese.

A wicked looking boy, casually pocket-picking her month's savings.

A fire-eater, performing in the town square, the orange lighting up the inky blackness.

A fading sign, hanging from the celling, proclaiming in cursive letters; '“The Misty 'Morrow Inn.”

It was gone as soon as it came, and she was left with an uneasy feeling of apprehensiveness.

Slowly now, she ascended the few disintegrating steps, pausing at the front door.

Nervously, she swallowed her fear and any doubts that were beginning to creep up on her in the shadows of the night.

She pushed the rotting door open, stepped cautiously inside and paused again, turning and gazing out of the door and back into the night.

When she turned around, she was no longer in the lobby of the old inn, but rather, in the hallway leading into the rooms upstairs.

She was drawn to the one marked; '6'. She didn't know why, but there was something about it that was pulling her in, and without her even seeming to move, the hallway sped towards her, stopping as she now stood in front of the room for which she felt an inexplicable pull.

As her hand touched the knob, another burst of memory assaulted her.

A man, dressed all in black, telling her that if she came with him, all would be fine.

Grinning evilly in the candle-light.

Skulking towards her, knife glinting as he drew nearer.

She stood, her hand on the door knob, trying to calm her the fear that flickered inside her heart like a small flame, as she twisted and opened the door.

The room was dark. All she could see was a small glowing light from what appeared to be a full-length mirror, facing away from her.

She found herself walking towards the mirror, unable to stop herself, even though the feeling of pure terror and despair was threatening to overwhelm her.

The door slammed shut behind her, but she took no notice as she walked around to see the front of the mirror.

A scream echoed throughout the timeless inn, rattling the mice in their hiding-holes.

The girl stood in front of the mirror, staring in horror at dismembered brown-haired head, sitting on a stool beside the mirror. Another scream rang out as she noticed her reflection, she was standing, dressed in a muddy cotton dress and a flimsy cardigan, soft leather boots unlaced and cracked with age. Her clothes and skin were covered with her own blood. But that wasn't the worst. Her flesh was peeling, rotting right off the bone. She was the colour of old bread, lips pale and eyes milky-white.

She turned to the head again and studied it.

It was her head.

And it had a note nailed to the forehead.

Steeling herself, she reached out and pulled the note off the nail, opening it just as the first tendrils of morning light filtered through the curtains.

There was another scream as the light touched her, and then the room was empty.

There was no head, no reflection and no living corpse.

The mirror was cracked and spotted with age.

And on the floor was a note, yellow with centuries past.

It sat face up, the words faded, but still clear.

You met your own sorry end,

Died alone, without a friend.

And now you wait, alone at night,

Until the golden, morning light.

UNTIL DAWN.

Yeah... I know it isn't really very scary, but I'm not that good at writing horror. I usually write comedy, so this is a change.

Let me know if you like!

WORMoverBOOK.

P.S: If you don't understand, feel free to ask what I'm on about. I don't think I really explained it that well. :D