Scary stories

Room

Dark. Everything Dark. It's hard to think. It's hard to remember...

I wake up in the same room I left in. My arms bolted into the chair making me view the same scene repeatedly. Walls, bleached white with tears of yellow as if they too are trapped in this eternal place, with the low ceiling castrating their every move with it's own bolts. The voices again, the whispers of foreignness that brought me to this room with what felt like weeks ago. I tense as I hear the slow tapping of boots hitting the floor, in sync with my rapidly beating heart. Louder, closer, louder, closer, the noise of my heart almost becoming to much as sweat pours down my body. I suddenly tense as a click is sounded through the room with an almost instant crash of the door opening. A women strides in, as tall as the celling and almost as white as the walls. If not for the black hood that shrouded everything except her cold gaze that could be felt even without looking, she could have became just another perfection to my eternal scene. She slowly slides in, locking the door behind her as if becoming a snake ready to feast but playing with the meal that it already knows it has won. The women slips in and out of my vision, circling me, playing with me, knowing that I have lost. Glaring at me as she finally comes to a stop in front of the chair that has become my only friend. The feeling of betrayal is slowly becoming as the grip of the braces are tightened while the blood stops flowing to my hands. Screaming of pain echoes on the walls only before it's swiftly cut off by the women's hand. I slowly slump into my chair as the feeling of consciousness is drained away from me...

I wake up in the same room, the women again glaring at me with the cold, black eyes. She comes forward again as I flinch away. Her soft-light hand brushes my cheek bringing me forward to face her. The gaze that left me suffering before becoming to much as I am forced to stare. The eyes now becoming shockingly blue as if the night sky was suddenly turned into day. The image was burned into my mind as she leans in to kiss me, the feeling becoming nostalgic as I kiss her back, the way I used to when we were together. My wife, the women that disappeared on the fifth year of us being together. The women that made me wait days, months, years for her to return. The women that made a two year old child accept that his mommy was never coming home. I hated her. I jerk my head back as the feeling of hatred spreads through me like it had never left. I glare at her, more intensely than how she looked before. I stared with murderous eyes and she began to cry, saying my name over and over again with her hands over her eyes, leaving with the same stride that she had entered.