November Nightmares (2013)

Fright Night?

"I can only help you if you help me," Stacey muffled through the door to the person on the other side, "My name is Stacey, I was hoping you'd be able to help me. I slipped through one of the wooden steps on the staircase and half of the board went through my leg. I think it's touching the bone. I have pretty much no feeling left in my leg at all. Do you think you could help me?"
The person continued groaning and banging against the door.
"Okay, I'm going to help you open this door. One," Stacey shoved her body against the door, it gently started to break. "Two," the door started to crack and had breaks in it. "Three," with one last shove, the door broke and Stacey fell through, landing on the floor face first. She laughed it off.
The groaning was now above her, she looked up, not thinking about who may be above her, just thinking of herself, thinking of the help she needed. She needed to get through this; she could survive if she just tried. Maybe she could escape; maybe it would all be fine. She could live through this. Stacey was nervous, of course she was. This thing above her, it wasn't human, nor did it look remotely human. It was like it came from another universe, this was definitely not a human, nor did it look like one. Stacey was frightened, but she knew she had to do something. The being had pale white, mangled skin. This was definitely not normal, especially for a human. It worried her, it really did. But she had to do something; she'd seen something about this. How to kill these things, what was it? How did it go? They made up a little song about it, was it something like "kill from the leg because they will be dead"? No, that's not right. "Aim for the brain because they'll be slain"? That's it! Aim for the brain. The brain. Do these things even have brains?
Stacey searched the room for a piece of equipment that might be able to kill this thing.
Zombie. That's what you are. She stared into its eyes. It's deep, dark eyes that showed the person that once was. This surprisingly didn't frighten Stacey, she stayed calm. After all, the pain in her leg was gone; she couldn't feel her leg at all. She didn't care; she was panicked about this zombie. Despite maybe it had been a nice person in another life, she didn't care about that. She had to do something about it, before it did something about her. The groaning started getting louder as the "thing" started getting closer to her, it crawled along the floor, pulling itself with its arms, like it had no lower body, although all his body was there. He had short, blond hair, or at least he did. Originally he would have had brown eyes, a dark brown, the sort that would have made any girl swoon. Sadly, this didn't look like that was the case. There were scars over his body, like he'd been beaten or attacked with a weapon of some kind. So that meant someone else must have been here before, someone must have been here first before Stacey. So surely that person could have saved him, but surely if they did this to him. What had happened to make somebody do this to him? Stacey cried but not out of sadness, out of anger. How could somebody do this to him? How could someone destroy another's life? Despite Stacey not knowing this man, she still cared. This was the first time she'd cried in about 3 years. She never cried when her mother died, her mother's death was natural. A heart-attack isn't something you can stop; it's not something you can change. If it happens, it happens. Stacey didn't cry for her mother, but she cried for a random stranger? What was this? Had she known this man in a previous life? She became confused, but through her stream of tears, started to look for a weapon. Her tears were flooding down her face; she could barely see a thing. She tried to hunt for a weapon, the tears were obstructing her sight, the zombie was lying still now, three quarters in the doorway of the on-suite, clearly this was off bounds to finding a weapon. She fell to her knees, placing her head in her hands, she sobbed loudly and heavily, not pausing for a breath for at least a minute. She cried passionately in the middle of the room, over everything she never did cry over in the past four years. Her mother, everything her father, over this guy, over everything. She knelt here and cried, she completely forgot about the zombie that was lying in the on-suite doorway; the emotion ran high throughout her mind and her body. This meant a lot now, this was a turn for Stacey, she had never cried in four years, she never cried when her mother died. Not even once, not even a tear drop, not even one. Stacey used to always cry, it was just the shock of it all. She'd built a wall up in her mind, a wall to block her emotions out. The wall had succeeded in blocking everything out, up until now. The wall had lasted well, it had a few cracks here and there, but now it came tumbling down. All of the devastation and everything that should have upset her or hurt her in some way now came through the wall, crashing the wall more and more as the feelings and thoughts came through. She couldn't take it anymore; she knew she was going to die. This would be the end for her; she knew this was the end. The zombie was staring at her; it started to edge closer now, slowly but closer. She was in a heap on the floor, the tears constantly rolling from her rosy pink cheeks, her gentle, soft, blond hair was getting damp with the salty tears that dripped heavily from her eyes. Her tears started to fall like snow falling off a cliff in an avalanche. She was mentally and physically drained. Her emotions gently started to crash down, like the way trees crash down in a rough storm. That's what this was like for Stacey, a rough storm of emotions, thankfully this was a storm coming to its end. The end was always better than the beginning, and a lot better than the middle. Half way through a storm is always the worst, the torture of the attack hitting everywhere. She started to get over the worst of it; the worst of her emotions were over. Reality started to come back to her mind in flashes, her eyes started to clear, the images of reality were coming back. She'd been away from reality for maybe a bit too long; the zombie had crawled beside her and was just reaching his right arm up towards her head. She lashed out with her left leg and kicked him in the head, giving her a bit of space and time to move and find something. He was heading towards her, ready to attack her again. She couldn't escape. She wouldn't be able to keep this situation under control for much longer. She either had to find a weapon, or find a way out. The guy was getting closer again, nearly close enough to touch her. Stacey screamed, hoping that there would be another person in this building whom would be willing to help her, who would be able to hear her scream. There was no response, no shouting, nothing. Nothing but that banging on the double doors downstairs getting louder. Soon whatever it is or whoever it is, is going to break through that door, keep hoping the outcome is good, Stacey. Keep hoping. She kept telling herself this over and over, Something good will come from this, just you wait. She heard a crack, the strong smell of death got heavier, the doors had finally broken. She could run out the door now, but she would never know what was down there until she got down the stairs, with her leg the way it was, maybe this wasn't the best idea. She became panicked, Weapon or escape. Weapon or escape. The question constantly flowed through her mind, soon she would have no time left to think, the zombie was getting closer. A lot closer now, she was in reaching distance from him. He could touch her, he could smell her, she smelt like sweet musk which must have been the spray she used before this nightmare occurred. She didn't know whether this was real or a nightmare anymore. She couldn't tell, it was like a mixture of the two. Nightmared Reality. This is what this was. But in seriousness, was this just a nightmare or was it reality. Stacey couldn't physically tell anymore. She was lost in this world, it was like a maze, she didn't know how she ended up here nor did she know how to get out. The zombie was touching her now, it was sort of just stroking her hair, looking deeply into her eyes. Stacey punched him in the face, leaving a dent in the right cheek from where her right fist had just pounded him in the face. She clambered to her knees and stumbled to her feet, she became dizzy from the amount of blood that had rushed to her head, the lack of blood all over her body made her stumble about and made her feel weak for a few brief moments. She rested against the bloodstained sheets of the bed for a few moments, catching her breath and her mind. She still knew who she was, a clear indication she hadn't lost her mind just yet. The blood started flowing round the rest of her body at a speed unknown, this was completely new for her, something she had never experienced before. She didn't know what was happening to her; she felt a strange supernatural feeling flow over her as this happened. She couldn't quite comprehend what was going on, but she liked the feeling. Panic flew back into her body, along with rage and a surge of adrenaline running throughout her body, at a super-speed rate. But why was this rage here? She didn't understand this, why was the rage here? She had no idea why she was annoyed but the rage was surging through her at a super-speed rate. There was a broken mirror over the other side of the room, it had pieces missing and little drops of blood on some cracks. She eyed the mirror with caution; she shuffled towards it, stomping on the zombie's head as she passed him. He still didn't die; he was still alive, just laying there. She peered in the side of the mirror, typical that it had to be the side with the most cracks in. Something didn't look right about herself, despite the fact she couldn't really see herself properly, she could see half of her face, it didn't look like herself. This half of her face didn't look the same as to how she remembered it. She was different, but she was the same person, that definitely hadn't changed. She was still Stacey Logan, daughter of Michael and Julia Logan. She looked like a man, some important business man. At least SHE knew she was female, which was all that mattered. She suddenly had tattoos on her arms and neck, she didn't know about the rest of her body. She walked over to the zombie and touched his head. The veins that still contained some blood started throbbing throughout him, his blood returned and he turned from this extremely creepy zombie into the man he once was, although crying out in pain and moaning. She bent down beside him and touched his shoulder; he suddenly got a glistened look over his eyes. Stacey suddenly got into his mind, learning his deepest desires...