A/N: This is something I've had in my head for a while, but never really got around to truly posting due to self-confidence issues. This is st in the universe of the 1985 film by the way, it's very difficult for me to like the remake, at all. Reviews make me happy, as they do any writer, though I do prefer longer, detailed ones that point out faults in my work. Just something to keep in mind if you decide to comment.
Disclaimer:I only claim ownership over my OC, all other characters or locales belong to their respective owners.
The shadows are a familiar sight to her as she awakens in the old, familiar house that has plagued her dreams for months on end since the beginning of spring. It is a cold and desolate place, devoid of any human residents, but she can hear the scuttling paws and squeaks of rats on the wooden boards, and the screeches of bats outside as they fly and drag their talons across the glass windows.
She does not know why her subconscious feels the need to bring her here every night, but satisfies her inner curiosity by exploring the run-down structure. Through all the darkness and chilly mist that obscures her view and makes her feel as if she were a blind woman, using the walls and sounds of everything around her to ensure she passes through safely.
The howl of a dog echoes from outside. A vicious, unkind, and bloodthirsty sound that sends a shiver of terror down her spine. She has seen the mutt only once. It is a grotesque being that has several bloodied scars running down the length of its lower jaw, and another on the ridge of its muzzle. Its socketed eyes are as deep a red as the blood that stains its teeth, and its ribs jut out from the skin, exposing hollow chambers of pulsating flesh within the crevices of its mangy, ratty fur.
She is in no mood to encounter such a monstrous looking entity a second time.
She quickens her pace, heading up the staircase located to the left of the room, keeping a hand firmly clutched around the railing to ensure she does not lose her balance as she ascends.
The bats' screeches become louder, as do their scratches upon the house itself. For a moment she catches a glimpse of one that seems to be larger than the rest; its fur more matted, its wings larger and uglier, and its eyes as solid a black as the night sky itself. However, it is little more than a blur illuminated by the moonlight to her tiny pupils.
Disregarding the unusual size of the creature, she ambles on, making her way up by groping along the old cement walls. The mist grows colder and thicker as she reaches the peak, consuming her body in its gaseous form. Making her small body shiver as its serpentine tendrils ghost over her pale skin.
Once at the top of the staircase, the thick and distinctive scent of blood assaults her senses. It appears to be mixed in within the frothy gas, impeding her for just a moment; an omen that warns her to keep away from the center where the icy mist gathers.
Until her hand, groping along the wall, delves into a thick puddle glazed to the cement, causing her to wretch the appendage away instantaneously. She rubs the fluid onto her pants desperately, not caring if the crimson liquid stains.
Feeling the mist rise up to consume her in its grasp again, she turns to where the coldest chill comes from, and flinches from the lunar light that darts directly into her dim, dark-infested orbs.
The mist dissipates afterwards, sinking and melting below the floorboards, as if chased away by the light like a vampire is by the sun. Its chill gone and replaced by the warmth of the house's natural insulation. The hound quiets outside, retiring for the night. The bats also silence themselves, resorting to hanging from a tree limb in a massive swarm of black, grey, and leather.
The giant bat, however, has disappeared into the dark of the night sky, having abandoned his younger brethren for more important matters.
Regaining sight in her eyes, she comes to stand before the window, hands placed on each side, trying to see what lies beyond this old and seemingly haunted building.
It is simply another house, with another window. Its wood looks more gnarled, than hers, and mist not unlike the one that had formerly encapsulated the interior of her house consumes the first story of the one across from her.
All in all, it is a carbon copy of the house she is currently in right now.
However, beyond there is also the silhouette of a figure in the window, perhaps the only difference between that house and hers. She watches it with anticipation, as it turns from her, shutting down the blinds to their window. She attempts to open her own, but finds that is impossible; the lock jammed and the wood securing it has been splintered open recently.
It had not been like that a few minutes ago.
She flinched once more, this time out of nervousness. Fear that she was no longer alone in this house.
Yet, there had been no sound. Not of the creak of the floorboards, the smash of a window, or even the cracking of the splinters.
Only dead, empty, silence.As she backed away from the window, and eventually into the aged concrete wall behind her, she felt the distinct sense of another presence. One that was invisible, but reeked of death, blood, and pure malice.
Within moments; moments of pulsating and fear-induced adrenaline, the silent presence spoke.
"Why are you in my house, little girl?"