Draft 4: Horror

90 5 2

by LostSTRings

by LostSTRings

Title: Bewitching Book

This is the first horror/thriller/gore book I wrote when I was 13? 12? I still have an interest in it but i'm unsure. It's a maybe but I haven't deleted the old chapters I've written.

Description:

I had always liked the way I am.

I've got the looks. I'm prim and proper, a lot of people say I'm perfect.

The only bad thing that happened in my life would be when my dad passed away. I don't remember much about my mom. Her image is a blur in my mind but I know she's somewhere.

I have a certain obsession in this one book I owe. It's so old that I doubt anyone would find it worth their time. I don't know if it's a coincidence but interesting things happen which is kinda cool.

Other than this weird obsession. I think i'm just normal.

Snippet scene: (unedited)

It seems that someone died again.

A senior who's a year older than mine. He was found dead, lying with blood streaming his eyes and nose with an awful head scorching with blood. The mirror shattered with bloody pulps leaving signs of someone banging his head numerous times through it. His face smiling in agony leaving a dreadful impression. His cell phone was next to him, the officers looking it up for some piece of evidence or clue of what happened. And there was.

The recording caught our attention. The police moving inside the room keeping it out of our sight, so we were only able to hear the noise coming from it. I know this voice.

It was horrifying.

He was laughing totally out of his mind, banging his head through the mirror. We were unable to determine either he was screaming or laughing. His voice was coarse tearing up chocking his own saliva then coughing out blood in hysteria.

The sound of each turn was disturbing, the sound of him laughing, the sound of him screaming in confusion, the sound of his bones cracking, the sound of the mirrors shattering, the sound of his head hitting the solid walls, the sound of his breath fading. The act was repeated for so many times that we froze our minds left in horror-ful confusion.

We could hear the recording ends. It went silent. I can hear the crowd's heavy breaths. It took a few minutes for the officers to wake up to their senses, the one holding the phone was shivering till his knees gave out. He looks at the phone, it was pitch black then suddenly it starts to move. He whimpers as he saw the victim's face smiling. With all the strength he had left he was able to speak his last.

". . . D I R TY ?"

Then the recording ended. It's that word again, Dirty? What does it mean?

The crowd panicked and ran off the hallways screaming. I could feel something rise within me. It was neither those of what they felt after hearing it. It wasn't fear, it wasn't sympathy. This isn't something. . . one wouldn't normally feel, I guess.

I was smiling.