The Search

Disclaimer

This story is a work of fiction. None of the incidents, characters, places etc. mentioned in this story are real... yeah that's it I guess.

The Search

I was slumped on the chair, repetitively pattering my pen against the table. I kept struggling to devise a captivating plot for my next story. It had been a long time, even months since I actually thought of and executed an interesting narrative.

Perforce, I went to surf on the internet for help. "Creative prompts for horror stories" I typed in. A list of websites popped up. Not to my surprise, I found that all of the hyperlinks... texts were highlighted in purple.

"Oh, great!" I threw my pen across the table, simultaneously rubbing my hand against the forehead.

"Dinner's ready!" My mom shouted. I closed my notebook and strolled downstairs.

The dinner was served. I was slowly chewing the food, contemplating in engrossment.

"Eureka!" I blurted out, snapping my fingers. The sounds of thunder grew loud.

"AAH!" My mom exclaimed as the spoon in her hand flung off and on top of the chandelier it went.

"Oops, sorry." I said, biting my tongue. She gave me a bemused look as I awkwardly finished my dinner, trying to avoid looking at her.

Later, I went to bed. I was lying awake, staring at the ceiling and waiting for the perfect time.

Three hours later, I started to hear snores... really loud snores. "Perfect!" I whispered in a low voice. I tiptoed to the door and slowly rotated the knob, making sure to keep it stealthy. As I exited the room, I slowly closed the door.

I crept to the main door and tried to open it in a furtive approach. But what happened was exceptionally contradictory to what I had in mind. And the door squeaked with a loud noise.

"Who's there?" My mother questioned timorously.

"Uh... Meow?" I uttered helplessly, seeing no other way out. I quietly took soft steps outside and closed the door from behind.

Soft gusts of wind gently blew through the quiet surroundings as I trod slowly down the street. The cemetery loomed ahead, becoming vivid with every step I took until I ended up at the front gate, which I found to be locked with a sign hanging up saying, "Do not enter after sunset!"

I observed the surroundings cautiously, making sure no one was around. I vaulted over the wall- Of course not all authors are in their 60's- and eventually made my way into the graveyard. "I hope it isn't like what I have seen in movies." I muttered tentatively.

I strolled around the cemetery, making sure to use my fears and anxiety to my great advantage. Of course I never believed in ghosts, nor have I ever encountered one. But providing that you are in a lonely place where all the dead people are dumped, and the fact that you are all alone, is enough to make fear an inevitable emotion.

The surroundings enveloped me as I immersed myself in deep thoughts; strolling around the cold environment.

Suddenly, I started hearing consecutive and rapid rustles of leaves and scattering of the dirt over the ground.

Since I was not in a horror movie; and I had common sense, I hid behind a giant tree, listening to the movements carefully.

"Oh shoot!" I whispered to myself as I heard the sounds of footsteps coming closer to me. Simultaneously, a long shadow grew wider on the wall near me as something kept approaching me from behind.

"AAH!" I exclaimed clutching my chest as I gulped anxiously, trying to fight the uneasiness thriving inside my heart.

With a heart full of trepidation, I peeped outside. To my surprise, I saw nothing but two raccoons rummaging through the scattered leaves, eagerly searching for something to eat.

I chuckled to myself awkwardly as I stepped out from behind the tree. With a broad smile on my face, I reached my pocket and pulled out my notebook and pen, jotting down the unpredicted twist.

I kept strolling and penning everything that happened to me, thinking it was a perfect plot twist I was looking for: mystery, comedy, a touch of fear, and a lot of embarrassment of course. I got so engrossed in the thoughts that I accidentally tripped on a rock.

"Woah!" I exclaimed as I quickly stabilized myself.

As I caught my breath, sighing in relaxation, an ancient mausoleum grasped my attention. It was old, weathered, its rooftop and the cracks covered with moss, the cracked pillars standing perpendicular to a set of two stairs taken over by dust and dried leaves.

As I inspected the mausoleum, a muffled voice rang in my ears, saying, "Help us!" Which repeated every second, like an echo.
Suddenly, the door creaked open, letting the voice grow louder.

Before I could take steps backwards and retreat, I felt a sudden push from behind and fell on the front porch. A deteriorated hand simultaneously grabbed my arm, ruthlessly dragging me inside.

The door slammed shut just as I was pulled into the mausoleum. The voices repeated the line, "Help us! Help us! Help us!" In a chorus. Their tone was rather distressed, as if they were in extreme agony.

The walls started to writhe; eerily deformed faces started to gradually emerge through the walls with horrific visages, pleading in pain, repeating the sentence over and over, "Help us!" Soon, I found myself surrounded by distorted faces of inexplicable supernatural beings.

The unsettling atmosphere of the room and the uncanny screams begging for help in a wailing tone was enough to send a chill down my spine.

I ran my hand around my clothes to find something to repel the evil, but what I found was rather... I wet myself. At that time, I had given up any hope that I would live.

Just as the uncanny specters were about to approach me with their distorted sorrowful faces, the door flung open. I covered my eyes as the room began to get exposed to the sunlight that shone above the horizon.

Simultaneously, the faces started to dissolve, unleashing echoes of distorted screams.
After the chaotic sounds calmed, the mausoleum returned to its normal condition, leaving no mark behind... except the one on my pants.

I took to my heels and ran until I reached my home. As I closed the door, I heard snores... really loud snores.

"Oh, thank god!" I sighed in relaxation before going into my room.

I found myself again sitting against the table with my hand on the forehead, trying to repulse the frightening memories. Suddenly, a thought struck my mind, "Wait. That's something." As I started to write down the experiences.

Sometimes things get too original, right?

Genuinely speaking, I have no idea wherefore the faces were asking for help. But one thing I know for sure is that I will not be the one helping them, not at all. After all, I'm a writer, not a hero. But surely somebody- perhaps a man better than me- might...

Eureka! That's it!