Floor 13

Discussion in 'THREAD ARCHIVES' started by Childish Grumpino, Jul 28, 2012.

  1. [size=+3]PLEASE READ THE OOC BEFORE JOINING...[/size]​


    “The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown.”
    - H.P. Lovecraft

    The dreams of the denizens of floor 13 are dark indeed.

    They begin innocently enough. Far more personal, the subconscious digesting and compartmentalising the day’s events, old memories and sensations from fondly-remembered times now past. Perhaps a dream of flight, or meeting a long-lost friend.

    Then something changes for each resident.

    Each of them finds their dreamscape suddenly and inescapably altered, shifted into something far darker and disturbing. All of a sudden they find themselves standing in a long, dark hallway, similar to the one find just outside their apartment doors… and yet simultaneously alien to them. The familiar intermixing with the unknown.

    As they take their first steps down the hallway, they become aware of the presence following them.

    It does not have form, it does not have shape. It is not solid, and it cannot truly be seen. It is simply there, occupying the darkness around the tiny spotlight of illumination that follows the residents. Immediately they are aware that this is not a benign presence; nothing that it has in mind for them is in any way good.

    And it is following them.

    Slowly at first they become aware of this. With every step it draws closer, with every panicked breath it slides nearer. Soon the residents are running, fleeing as fast as they can down this seemingly unending corridor. It is not enough; the presence is faster and it’s advance towards them unstoppable.

    Just before they are blasted back to wakefulness in a cold sweat, just as the incorporeal tendrils of the presence begin to snake their way around their ankles, the residents catch a terrible, fleeting insight into the nature of the thing that has caught them.

    Something ancient, unknowable and terrifyingly alien, something that isn’t human and never was to begin with.​

    [size=+1]TOM HARRISON

    I snap awake to find myself wrapped in a cocoon of bedcovers, cold sweat dripping between my shoulder-blades.

    For a good minute or so I lie there panting, trying to get my heart to ease back down to a pace that doesn’t make me feel like it’s going to burst out of my chest at any given moment. As reality sets back in and I begin to realise that I’m no longer in that corridor but back in my apartment’s bedroom I scramble for my bedside lamp.

    A reassuring light shines forth from it illuminating my room, and I let out a sigh of relief. Just a dream. Just a horribly, horribly fucked-up dream that felt real at the time. A glance to the alarm clock tells me it’s just after 2am. I have a photo-shoot scheduled for just a few hours but that can’t be helped; I really don’t fancy trying to sleep again so soon after what I’ve just dreamt.

    Goddamn. Nightmares? I haven’t had one since I was twelve.

    Hauling myself out of bed I make for the kitchen, subconsciously turning on every light in the apartment on my way there. A glass of water, maybe read a book for a bit and then another attempt at sleep. It was just a nightmare, I tell myself. Nothing to get freaked out about. Not like it’s real--

    I pause mid-thought as a sound begins to reach my ears.

    A sound that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

    There’s something in the corridor outside. Something that’s whispering, scratching at the walls.

    And it’s getting closer.[/size]
  2. Abigail walks home, to her small, dusty apartment
    room. Today had been one hell of a day. Our intern smashed a bottle of mercury we were using to study particle viscosity...

    She lays down in her bed and closes her eyes, hoping to see him again tonight. Pale skin like snow, and teeth that seemed more like knifes. He swam and switched and mixed her brain. He had no patterns, only chaos. He sits and waits for his little prey, Abigail. Finally, she runs in. They sit in silence. But sometimes, silence is the scariest thing. She sees... Something? It seems like a shadow. She doesn't know why, but she can tell
    this is not a friendly... Abigail lays in bed. Her eyes seem lifeless. She pants for air. "Who was he?
    I saw him
  3. Jonathan awoke with a sharp gasp, his head resting uncomfortably atop the open file which lay strewn open upon his desk. Sitting up , with a slight groan he removed his glasses and messaged the corners of his eyes with his middle finger and thumb. He squinted as he looked around the office of his three room apartment. His office was bathed in the soothing indirect yellow light from a halogen lamp standing in the corner. Without his corrective lenses he could still make out the shapes of objects around him, the couch to his left, a few pictures that hung on the wall, the book case…But the details were misleading. The edges of each object seemed to blend in with its surrounding making it difficult to tell exactly where one ended and the rest began.

    He could get by without them when he needed to, but it took much longer for Jonathan to make out details fine details necessary when reviewing the chicken scratches he called notes. In the past his pride had sometimes gotten the better of him and he would attempt to work without them. But this often lead to him making serious errors in judgment based on the information he thought he’d read in files.

    Placing his glasses back over his nose the world became sharper again. The fog within his head began to clear and whatever it was that had startled him from his sleep had begun to fade once again into obscurity. Jonathan stood up from his desk and moved to his kitchen where he reached into the refrigerator and grabbed a glass bottle of Perrier. He twisted the top and it opened with a hiss. Jonathan returned to his office, where he sat himself on the couch and looked up at a framed bronze medallion on the wall that read:

    Trust God. Clean House. Help Others.

    “One day at a time…” he uttered with an exhausted sigh.

    Jonathan hadn’t slept soundly in months. ‘Don’t worry, its all part of the process’ his sponsor had said, ‘Its very common to have vivid dreams about those we’ve hurt.’

    But Jonathan wasn’t dreaming about anyone from his past, it was someone else. Something else. Tried as he might he could not put a face to this specter in his dreams and that’s what was so bloody unnerving about the experience. In his prayers and meditation he could hear something from within telling him that he needed to face that which caused him fear. Have faith and trudge the path laid out before you.

    However his anxiety over sleep had grown with every night, to the point where he had began to bury himself in work rather than lay his head on a pillow and wait for that impending sense of doom to set in. There was some shame he felt in his avoidance behaviours, but that was his default when faced with an uncomfortable truth.

    Escape however possible...


  4. [​IMG]

    "AAAH WHA!? WHADAY?!!"

    I threw my pillows against the wall, kicking off my covers and looking around the room. My eyes widened while he tried to regain his breath.

    What sort of dream..Well, really nightmare was that? It started out with me at work like always, maintaining my position patrolling around the asylum. Making sure none of the crazies get loose, next thing I know I see my ol' buddy, Rufus. To me that comes as shocking, because Rufus was murdered a year ago by one of the escaped inmates. So, he walked up to me, sporting the grin he always does when he sees me.

    "Ey, Ernest..Time is it?"
    Rufus would never say it like others did.
    "Bout, 7p.m. Ruf. Like always when you ask me."
    But...When I looked up to see him, I saw this corpse wearing his outfit. It freaked the ever living life out of me, causing me to jump back to the wall and drop my gun.
    "Why didn't you save me? You could have easily killed him..Now I'll kill you." He opened his mouth, drawing closer to me and engulfed me..

    A-And here I am, awake and my face still in one piece. What the hell..Why now? Why did I have this nightmare now when Rufus passed away a while ago. The darkness in the room wasn't helping me one bit. I could feel something..or someone was in my presence. I never liked the dark, not even as a kid..My brother, Billy always used to tell me the dumbest damn stories that never got me passed the "Monsters in the Dark" phase. I just need to turn on some lights and drink some water..Yeah.

    I leaned over the bed, making sure I knew wasn't just throwing my legs wherever and placed my feet on the ground. Inhaling lightly, I rose up, only to hear a screech. I didn't even think twice, I rushed right to the wall, slamming right into it. But, no matter how much I tried to claw down my walls, they just wouldn't fall over...I swear my heart skipped a beat at that moment, eyes shifting everywhere in my apartment, but nothing was there...Big scary security guard..Freaking out over a little screech..

    No way I'm getting sleep tonight.

  5. [size=+1]Part of me wants to retreat back to my bedroom, lock the doors and hide until whatever is in the corridor has passed. Yet I find myself still standing there, unmoving, listening to the sounds coming from the chittering thing that’s scratching it’s way along the corridor outside.

    I’m not just hearing things, and this isn’t me mistaking something ordinary for something disturbing. The sounds are far too consistent to be a mistake of hearing.

    Slowly I inch towards my small kitchen, built into the side of the main living room, and reach for one of my larger kitchen knives. A small reassurance if nothing else. My lighting equipment is through in the studio but I don’t want to make too much noise. Whoever… whatever might be out there, I don’t want them knowing I’m in here.

    Jesus, maybe I’m just overreacting after that dream. Maybe this is just some drunk neighbour staggering his way back to his apartment.


    Here’s hoping.

    Steeling myself, I make for my front door and flick the switch for the hallway light. The sound is regressing now; whoever it is must be moving further down the corridor.

    Slowly I reach for the door handle.

    No sense in cowering in this apartment of mine. If I don’t confront whatever this is now I’ll never get back to sleep.[/size]
  6. It's night again. Something is keeping Abigail up. Is it that creature again? She can't tell. Scratch,scratch, scratch. The noise of the scratching is worse then nothing she had heard, a note that could end the universe. Scratch, scratch, scratch. Deeper into the spiral of this noise. Scratch, scratch, scratch. From the window,, from her bed. She couldn't see anything, though. Scratch, scratch, scratch. The thing speaks. "Pretty little noises." Scratch, scratch, scratch.

    Abigail lets out a wail that could cause the Earth to tremor.
  7. Sweat was not a very pleasant thing to be coated in upon waking up from nightmares. This was just fact.
    The cold, damp sensation alone was enough to make the hairs on Danielle's neck stand up. Though, they already were at attention, along with the bumps shivering along her upper arms and legs. Sitting on the end of her bed by now, having been up for about half an hour, her eyes stared forward at the wooden floorboards.

    "Talking bears do not exist. Animals do not speak. Nor do trees or flowers." Shaking her head rhythmically, slowly smoothing her palms over the sleeves of her nightshirt, she spoke quietly to herself. Lids falling over the still quivering dark eyes, it was time to calm down, push away the dark images fresh in her mind.
    "No. Everything is alright. Everything is okay. I am okay. I am okay."
    A small smile appeared, a sigh of relief. She was fine.

    Such a funny dream this time around..
    The setting: a bright, wonderfully colored forest of all hues. The foliage was purple, the sky was pink, the moon a neon salmon.. It was.. beautiful and youthful. Dani had been strolling along the meadows, enjoying all that was to behold. Not taking notice to how she was dressed, in a sparkling Victorian ball gown with large peacock feathers completing the skirt, she had expected all to be giggles and grins in the moment of fiction and fantasy. A small bear cub appeared out in front of her as she knelt down in the grass. She spoke, cooing it over to her, her gloved hands curling to beckon the animal forth. The cub watched her with large black eyes, crawling closer, closer still. And then it.. changed. Morphing into a giant bear, taller than any of the sorts she had read about in National Geographic magazines, teeth were great, claws even greater. And the bear began to talk to her. It grinned a full set of knife-like teeth, and twitched at odd moments.
    Danielle tried to leave, she had tried to get up, though the grass opposed her. Pulling along her wrists, the blades curled along her arms and followed up to her shoulders, holding her down. Treetops, just like cheese fondue, began to melt down to the floor, waving over like lava to her body. She screamed and nothing came out. She was trapped, and all sanity was thrown out the window. Before the bear came down to her face, as the rest of her body was covered in this goo of a colorful substance, the beast dragged it's sickly long tongue up along her cheek.
    It smiled, "Don't be afraid. Rest will come soon."

    And then she woke up, drenched in cold, disgusting sweat.

    Walking to the sink in her bathroom, Dani pulled the faucet on. Cool water flowed into the bowl created by her palms, splashing against her face as she hunched over the counter. Holding her head for a moment to make sure the scenes were gone from her memory, she grabbed a towel and dabbed at her cheeks. Smoothing back her hair, her throat was cleared as she stared ahead to the reflection of a more awake, though still slightly distressed pale version of herself.
    She realized her dream must have been a bad version of the illustrations she was currently working on. The story was just like any other kid's book, filled with fantastical creatures and wonders. This was normal, and she always expected this. So, why did it have to haunt her brain at this time of night?
    Taking a step in to her main apartment room, her eyes fell over on the sketches littered along the coffee table. Her paint brushes, pencils, pastels all laying around on the sofa and the floor. It was a mess for others, though completely organized for her. Tearing her focus away, she took in a deep breath. She had to get to sleep, this was not healthy.

    Biting into her lower lip, she flinched as she heard a sound. Wait, she heard a sound? What sound? Not even sure what it was that rang along her eardrums, Danielle moved quickly to pull on a pair of lounge shorts. If she was to investigate this noise any furthur, she'd rather look a bit more put together, in case anyone was around. She would rather not become "that-one-crazy-lady-on-the-13th-floor" in her Home. No, Sir.
    A few thoughts ran across her as she started towards the door. Her bare toes curled a little against the cold floor, stopping in her path. What if there was a burgular? What if he was armed? What if he wanted to take all of her money? Not that she made a lot with her business.. but, the thought counted, still! Flailing around for a moment, she caught the sight of a wooden spoon used last night for stirring the spaghetti sauce.
    "A-ha!", she exclaimed, grasping the handle in her slightly claimy hand. She was ready.

    Wrapping a free set of fingers along the doorknob, it twisted open, and the door came closer to her. Peeking over the edge, Danielle looked down the hallway, finding that she was staring mostly into a cave of darkness. Pulling herself back inside, she gave an irked shudder and closed her eyes.
    Something told her to go back to sleep. A strong feeling tugged at her ankles, like a nagging toddler wanting all the attention. She felt tired again.. Maybe sleep would be good for her.
    Shaking her head quckly, she tossed that desire for rest aside. The decision was made: she would wait on the other side of her door, and listen, as closely as she could. She was probably just imagining things again..
    She did have a big imagination.
    But then, another noise. A scratching kind.
    A whimper erupted from her lips as Dani clung to the wooden spoon as if it would protect her from anyone.. anything. It could have been a kitty making that noise from the alley outside.. That was probably it! Just an adorable kitten.. wanting to come inside..
    And eat off her face.

    "I can't take this anymore.."
    Taking a step back, Danielle threw the door open, and jumped out into the hallway. Wielding the mighty wooden spoon in front of her, taking a defensive stance, she listened again. Nothing.. And then, there was a scream. Her muscles stiffened, and she felt her posture straighten up as soon as the sound hit her in the face. Twisting her body in the direction the wail came from, it sounded like a woman. Inhaling deeply, Dani stood still, wondering why she couldn't bring her body to move forward. The fright got to her, as she could feel it in her spine, her hair, her nails. It was.. overwhelming. So much darkness..
    The floor met with her knees as she began to curl up into a ball against the hallway floor. Hyperventilating? Maybe. Just a little.
  8. Nothing was there...Relax Ernest, get a hold of yourself. Just turn on the lights and get something to drink, don't lose your head over one bad nightmare.

    I took a few deep breaths, peeling myself away from the wall. I wasn't sure what would happen if I took stepped forward...Would that same shriek come again? Because if so, I don't think the wall could handle another 215lbs slamming into it again. No, it was all just lingering afterthoughts..I'll be fine. I looked down, even though I couldn't see anything, and placed my foot forward. Nothing happened..So I did it again, again, and again..This was relieving and my heart beat slowed down a good amount. Now, just to get to the kitchen and get something to drink, then back to bed.

    As I opened the door from my bedroom, peering around into the living room to see if there was any sort of figure standing out there just for safe measure. Reaching my hand to flick the switch on the small lamp that was sitting on a little table near the door that led out into the hallway.

    Least there was a little bit of light now..

    Yet..as soon as I turned on the light, the sounds of scratching began to ring in my ears. This didn't frighten me as much as the shriek, but made me wonder if there was something outside his room that might have slipped into the building like a mouse or critter. But what if was the sound of someone dragging a weapon along the floor? It is my job to investigate those sort of situations, I am a guard after all..I better suck it up.

    Inhaling then exhaling deeply..I move towards the door, grabbing the doorknob. Just hearing the clink of metal made the scratching, and now..soft whispers known again. I raised an eyebrow and slowly turned the knob and pulling the door back..I didn't bother to look down hallway just yet. If I was dealing with some sort of thug, I was going to need some sort of weapon to defend myself with..But what?

    Oh, the decorative cane that my grandfather gave me when I was a young boy..This will do. I held the cane tightly in my hands and walked out of my apartment and into the hall with my eyes closed.
  9. Misha's eyes flew open as her pupils seemed to shrink from sheer terror. She shuddered every time she took a breath and her face looked like many small eyes were just bawling sweat. Was this payback for leaving her parents to go live in an apartment. She knew how desperately her parents didn't want her to leave the house, but Misha had insisted. And she couldn't help but wonder if that nightmare was her punishment.

    No...no...This was only random thoughts. She knew dreams and nightmares were connected to your subconscious mind. Maybe she was listening too much to those ...strange...songs, or watching too many horror movies for story ideas.

    But first things first, turn on the light. Misha turned on her light and soon the bedroom was brightly lit up. She looked along the floor at the white carpet...Only to shriek when she saw something pitch black skitter across the floor right in front of her.

    "AH!! DIE SPIDER DIE!" Misha yelled in panic and immediately seized her shoe to wham it against the spider. After a few good swats to it, the spider was dead. That event surely didn't help her state right now. Misha cleaned up the mess on the floor and tossed the spider in the trash. "I...I should just get some hot chocolate or something." Misha said to herself as she carefully walked to the kitchen.

    My gosh...18 and having nightmares. Misha thought. She leaned against counter with her arms crossed, only trying to calm down. Misha began to smile, feeling herself begin to be less on-edge, only to be sent right back to her fear by the next-door shriek. Misha jumped violently and her arm smacked against the pot's handle. The water for her hot chocolate was all on the floor now.

    Misha looked to the watery mess and scowled. "Oh for goodness sa--" Misha then stopped, as if trying to listen for something. scritch....scritch...scraaaaatch. The faint noise disturbed her. Was there a burglar? A large bug crawling on the door (Heaven forbid that!)? Misha went near a table where a Bible was and placed her hand on it, feeling a wave of peace and confidence go through her. She was raised Christian and had firm beliefs. Letting out a huff, she walked away and looked into the peephole of the door.

    Nothing...Nothing except the door on the other side of hers.

    Misha shrugged, but continued to hear the scratching sound. It was starting to become very disturbing. She finally went to grab a bottle of hairspray. Maybe she could use it like pepper spray if someone was there. With that in mind, Misha went to the door and carefully opened it. Looking around, she didn't see anything except darkness and a few apartment lights. Stepping out further, she closed the door and locked it.
  10. [​IMG]


    It had been a pleasant dream, and pleasant dreams were not something that I often had. I enjoyed and savored pleasant dreams. My therapist used to say that my lack of pleasant dreams stemmed from an inner conflict with myself from unresolved issues from my past. They said I needed to have those horrible dreams to remind myself to let go and retain the good instead of the bad. I thought they were full of a load of crap and simply quoting the cliche obvious. Come to think of it, they said a lot of things that a three year old could have told me, so I stopped seeing them. Anyways, my pleasant dream was rudely interrupted by a more sinister and maddening experience. The landscape of my unconscious mind seemed to once more take a dive for the worst and my body began to shift into a fight or flight mode. I never was much of a fighter, even in my dreams, and thus my body/mind chose flight.

    It was one of those terrified escapes where you know that you're running but the creature is forever one step behind you just about to grab you. Your feet move but it's as if you're trying to run through molasses. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest even in my dream and the look of horror upon my face I could all to clearly observe. Isn't it strange that even when the dreams are about myself, I still am the outside party watching the horrors unfold. My foot caught on something, or perhaps I was grabbed, as I sprawled forward and turned to face the monster chasing me.

    With adrenaline rushing through my body, I was thrown from the dream world back to waking reality with a sudden start. Gasping loudly I sat bolt upright in bed, my sheets thrown to the floor and my pillows scattered. Heart pounding. Sweat on my brow. Body shaking. Yep, what a mess. But the dream...if that's what it was. My hands shaking I reached for my nightstand light and turned it on as I slumped over the edge of the bed rubbing my face and trying to rid myself of that image. That terrible image. Grabbing my glasses, I arose from my bed and lazily strolled over to my small desk, ignoring whatever ungodly time of the night it was. Turning on that lamp, I sat down to write. That's what I did, I wrote. I was a writer, not that any of my works were known, but I tried my best. It was one of the few things I was ever good at or told I had any talent in. Some talent. Still, as vivid a dream as that had been, it was worthy of being written down. Besides, perhaps it would calm my nerves.

    I kept a dream log on and off. After all, they say dreams are the subconscious way of telling us things, right? Isn't that what a therapist would say? Well either way, sometimes I would use my dreams for inspiration for writing. As I was recalling my dream in as much detail as I could and as fast as my hand could write my ears picked up on a noise outside. At first I dismissed it as something just in my head, I do that a lot, but it was persistent. Something was--off--about the noise. Also, the noise wasn't coming from inside my apartment, but out in the hall. Furthermore, I could hear it all the way in the bedroom, which was in the back, and my bedroom door was slightly closed. Yeah, not creepy at all after that fucked up dream I had. Okay, maybe I was still half dreaming, perhaps that was it. After such strenuous dreams as that it was quite possible I was just freaking myself out. Returning to my writing I was stopped mid-word as my pen sprawled across the paper in a diagonal line. BANG, scratch.

    A startled cry escaped my lips as my glasses slid down the bridge of my nose and I looked up through the open part of my bedroom door at the entrance of my humble apartment. Normal, yeah that wasn't normal. Sleep sounds? No...I literally FELT that one. My heart began to race as I held my breath staring, waiting. Okay if I don't hear it again just paranoia if I do I-- BANG, scratch. The pen slipped from my hand and landed with a soft clink upon my desktop, rolling away to the carpeted floor. Pushing my glasses up on the bridge of my nose I stared in disbelief. Was this really happening? BANG, scratch. Again!? Okay, clearly I had gone mad, but this was persistence that even I couldn't fathom in my puny brain. My fear suddenly became trumped by a sudden and strange sense of rage. Was someone just trying to fuck with me? Oh, hell no! Digging into my desk drawer I managed to procure myself a pair of rather sharp scissors. Well, better than nothing I supposed.

    BANG, scratch. BANG, scratch. BANG, scratch. The noise continued from the hall. Dressed in an over sized long sleeved shirt with shorts that were barely seen, and my hair in a messy fray while clutching scissors...I probably looked pathetically pathetic. Either way I was going to give this shit head messing with me a run for his money! Trying to boost my confidence, I slowly crept forward toward the door. It reminded me of a Stephen King horror book, the ones where I just want to yell at them to stop being stupid and just go hide under the covers. Yeah I was now that bull headed character who was pretending to be all confident but really just wanted to piss their self. Yeah, not scared at all. Never. I've got some nice, sharp, pointy scissors to protect me. Yup no fear at all, just pure rage and confidence! Pranker meet my wrath! I'd managed to get all the way to the door but the sound had stopped. I hadn't realized I was holding my breath again until I let out a large sigh of relief. They were gone.

    BANG, SCRATCH! A blood curdling scream followed. I nearly did piss myself and almost fell backwards. Leaning forward to keep my balance I somehow managed not so scream, but my shaking hands found the doorknob as I unlocked the door, closed my eyes, raised the scissors and opened the door to plunge my scissors down! Down they frantically came into...nothing. Keeping one eye tightly closed I braved a quick gander at what fate awaited me by slowly opening my other eye...

  11. [size=+1]As I grip the handle and shoulder open the door a scream rings out through the thirteenth floor of the Baynes Building. Panic grips me, but I’m already standing in the hallway; no turning back now.

    The light above my doorway illuminates only a worryingly small patch of the hallway. The rest is held in pitch darkness. There are only a few windows up here, after all, and we’re way too high up for street lights. Gripping the handle of the kitchen knife so tight my knuckles begin to pale, I squint my eyes and try to make out the shapes that seem to loom out of the dark.

    This is fucking crazy. I should just have stayed in my apartment.

    For a good moment I can’t see shit; just shadows and phantoms of my imagination leering out at me, keeping my heart racing at a pace that makes it feel like it’s going to burst out of my chest any second. Then I start to spot something, make something out amidst the darkness.

    A shape, lying crumpled in the middle of the floor. Someone injured? Perhaps even the source of the scratching and whispering.

    Jesus, have I just flipped my shit over some injured person in my hallway trying to call for help?

    I rush over to whoever it is after tucking the knife into the corner of my doorframe, and find myself kneeling down next to one of my neighbours. Danielle, I think? We’ve spoken a bit; she’s an artist of some kind, if memory serves. I can see her chest heaving, sucking in rapid breaths. Hyperventilating, and curled up in the foetal position. Something’s scared this girl half to death.

    “Danielle?” I ask quietly, placing a hand on her shoulder and trying to shake her gently back to her senses, “You alright?”

    Stupid goddamn question, Tom. She’s curled up in a ball and sucking in air like it’s going out of fashion; of course she’s not fucking alright.[/size]
  12. Misha heard figures walking about the 13th floor. She looked over one way and saw the figure of Tom. She didn't know who it was and she wasn't about to take any chances. She hesitantly stepped forward and began to softly speak. "H-Hey...Anyone there?" Misha spoke.

    That wasn't gonna do anything! she then thought. Misha reeeally didn't want to raise her voice in a night like this, but she knew she was well armed. Raising her voice, she called out. "Hey!! Who's there?!! Don't make m-me use this!!" Misha yelled as she held up the hairspray bottle again.
  13. The shadows were closing in against her, she could feel them. Any dim light in the hallway, given off from outside, or a few overhead bulbs, was being sucked away from existence. She saw nothing, and heard nothing, but the disturbing wheezing coming from her lungs. This was it, this was it. And to think, all she left to imprint on this world were a few measly drawings. Little tidbits to amuse and delight youngsters, who were really entertained by anything if it was colorful and bright. Their attention spans were so simply enticed..
    And then she felt her body being moved. Could the darkness around her sprout limbs? If It has limbs, that means It has hands.. and claws.

    Hold on. That was ridiculous. What?

    Opening her eyes, finally, Danielle peered up at a face. There were two eyes, a nose, a mouth, and a very bald head. Wait! She knew this person! He was one of her neighbors, someone she recalled passing once or twice on her way to her section of the hall. The feeling of being alone passed over like a cool breeze, and all was well. Not completely, well, but.. progress was made. For a solid half minute, she stared with wide eyes, her mouth a straight line. She remembered what had just happened, what had brought her to such a state.

    Shooting up onto her feet quickly, her arms raised, wooden spoon pointed to the ceiling. The sudden movement rushed blood to her head, as she felt light, leaning against the wall beside her.
    "Sc.. Scratching.."
    She began to mumble, her other hand pressed to her forehead as her thoughts came together. Eyes shot up, and she was found gazing down the hallway once more.
    "Scratching. I heard scratching. And.. and, a woman screamed. Someone screamed.."
    Crazy-talk. That's all this was. At least she would know that good ol' Tom was the one to send her off to the asylum.
    But, still.. Dani began to believe she wasn't just making this up..

    "Did you hear it?.. Please, please, tell me you-"
    Cut off from the yelling nearby, she twisted her torso at the waist to glance behind her. Squinting harshly, she found it hard to make out who the silhouette belonged to. Still, it was clearly another from the 13th Floor, seeing as they were calling for identification.
    "Uh.. Danielle Robinson, here! And.. Tom!"
    Blinking a few times, it felt odd not to give the guy a last name. Though, she didn't really know many of the neighbors around her by titles.. Only faces, and voices, sometimes. Folding her arms, she could still feel the hair raised along them, shivering the chills away with her chin balancing on the tip of the spoon.
    Wait. She knew that voice.
  14. "anyone? The scratching? Was it any of you?" Abigail asks as she knocks oon each door of floor 13. Ir wasn't any of them, though some heard it too. Danielle, it was me screaming." she calmly said. Everyone's still alive. I've heard about this noise...

    Could it be?

    The brown note? The sound that causes the listener to go insane?

    No. Nonononononono. I've just read too much Lovecraft, she thinks to herself.
  15. I knew when I was out into the hall, the breeze felt different and I was able to tell that I was not in the comforts of my own apartment anymore. I opened my eyes slowly to see the hallway was dimly lit. Not a very good feeling but it was better than being in complete darkness. My breathing was picking up again as I looked down the hallway to see..blobs moving about. I stepped back a bit and waved my cane on the walls making a loud sound that would alert the blobs of my presence.

    "Stay B-Back! Stay back I tell you! I'm not afraid to s-seize you! Or whatever yo-you are!"

    I was trembling with fear, noticeable by how I was holding the cane out at nothing. The figures seemed to be speaking to one another..Perhaps they were in some sort of partnership to get me!? Oh god I can't stand the thought o..Wait a moment..I squinted down the hallway to notice the figures had more shape and details..I saw a bald man and a lady holding some sort of kitchen utensil, and the voice of another woman who called "Hey!! Who's there?!!"

    Oh thank god..They were only my neighbors and not figments of my imagination. I stepped forward and called down the hallway to..Uh..What was that one man's name again..The one who did the fancy photo work? Oh right, Tom.

    "Tom! Tom?! Is that you down 'dere?.. Anyone?"

    I began to jab the walls with the cane so if it was Tom or somebody who knew me, they would see the cane. Well, as if they didn't hear me freak out before. But, what if they didn't remember me? Or knew who I was?..OH god that'd be pretty bad if they assumed I was the source of the noise.

    "It's me..Ernest! Security guard from the aslyum if you don't know who I-I am..I have a badge to prove it ba-back in my room."
  16. [​IMG]


    For a moment I wasn't quite sure how to register everything. There was little to no light in the hallway and my eyes were only half adjusted. With my glasses slipping down my nose again everything was blurry anyways. I decided to open both eyes as I heard movement and voices down the hall to my left. They were close enough I could distinguish a male and possibly two females, but I couldn't really understand what they were saying. Well, aside from the one who was nearly shouting and demanding names. My eyes were finally starting to adjust to the darkness as I heaved a heavy sigh and pushed my glasses up on the bridge of my nose again. My grip slackened upon the scissors in my hand as I lowered my stiffened arm.

    See, nothing to be afraid of. I had just gotten myself worked up over nothing! Then again, it seemed like others had to. So maybe there was more to this? I eyed the other tenants I could make out quietly from where I was. No point in bothering them much right? Well, maybe I should. If you can't beat them might as well join them. Perhaps they could shed some light on whatever the hell had been going on earlier. Or tell me who the hooligan was that was pranking us!

    As my heart-rate began to slow down I cautiously made my way toward the gathering group. "Hello? Hey yeah. Uh hi" I said awkwardly as I approached, nearly walking into the girl on the floor who i'd only seen a couple times. Hell I'd seen them all a couple times but never knew any of their names. I don't think I ever really talked to anyone else here. Usually i was just locked in my apartment writing or working. All work and no play, wasn't that how the old adage went? I'd decided I was going to ask them if they knew who the asshole was that was disturbing the peace at whatever ungodly hour it currently was. I wanted to give that jerk a piece of my mind!

    "So, uh, do any of you know what's going on?" my voice came out almost at a whisper. Really?! Yeah, way to be assertive Eleanor. They'll really think you're brave after that display. God what a loser I was. With those thoughts a tint came to my cheeks, and I was glad that the darkness hid that from them. My curiosity of the scratching noise was soon answered by the girl, who was the culprit of teh blood curdling scream that nearly made me piss myself. So she'd heard the knocking too? what about the banging? Or was that just me? I'd feel rather stupid if that was just me and my over active imagination. More than likely it was, but I had to find out. It would eat at me if I didn't ask. I wanted to bite my tongue but I didn't.

    "Did...did any of you hear a banging with that weird scratching?"

    Before I knew it, another tenant was approaching, proclaiming himself as Ernest. A night guard at an asylum. Oh Jesus Christ, what kind of people did I live with around here? I really should get out of my apartment more.
  17. [size=+1]Guess the neighbours are awake.

    Danielle begins to come to her sense again, muttering about the scratching sounds I’d heard coming from the hallway. Good to know I’m not just hearing shit, then. That’s when another voice comes from down the corridor, young and more than a little nervous. Misha, according to Danielle; I think I’ve seen her in passing a few times. Just a young thing, moved here recently I think.

    Next comes the knocking from down the corridor and Abigail appears from out of the darkness. Another one I’ve not spoken to that much. She’s a scientist of some sort, if memory serves. A little… unstable, too, but not a bad neighbour in comparison to some I’ve had over the years. Apparently she was the source of the screaming.

    “Tom! Tom?! Is that you down 'dere?.. Anyone?”

    Guess Ernest heard it too. He offers to show us the security badge he has to prove it’s him. Nervous guy, but probably one of the few people on this hallway I’ve actually talked to for a decent length of time.
    “Yeah, it’s me Ernest,” I call back to him, “Don’t worry about the badge, it’s alright.”

    Finally comes another resident, one I’ve never spoken to before. Guess we all heard that scratching, though I’m starting to wonder what the hell everyone’s doing awake at this hour of the morning. I live with a bunch of insomniacs, maybe?
    “Did...did any of you hear a banging with that weird scratching?” asks the new arrival. I shake my head.
    “Scratching, yes, and I’m sure I heard whispering, but no banging. Thought someone was hurt in the hallway or something.” You liar, Tom. You big fucking liar; you were picturing beasts and monsters and eldritch things conjured up from long hours surfing on horror forums online for project inspiration.

    At a loss for words for a moment, I find myself staring around at my fellow residents of Floor 13. It occurs to me that this could well be the first time we’ve all congregated together like this.
    “So, uh…” I finally say, trying to break the silence, “Maybe we should go let the superintendent of the building know about the scratching sounds. Could be rats in the walls.”[/size]
  18. I sighed with relief hearing Tom recognize me. I was able to lower my cane and join him and the rest of the group. There were quite few people gathered together, I didn't know many of the folks because I was really to myself ever since the incident with Rufus..But were they gathered for the same reason as the new arrival stated? The scratching? Sure it was just simple scratching and such..But, most people wouldn't be bothered by it. But the whispers...How was that going to be explained? I rubbed my chin, knowing I was beginning to think way to much into this and just need to breath.

    "I..heard scratching, fierce scratching while I was in my room, Tom. I didn't know if they were critters or something..Also heard someone whispering too, but I couldn't make heads r' tails of it."

    It was a very good possibility, but rats don't whisper..That'd be pretty freaky if they could and god only knows where we'd be. I shivered at the thought and then looked to everyone trying my best not to let my mind get the better of me and make me question too too much. I'm a security guard..Yes..I work at an asylum keeping crazies from getting out. They're the crazy ones, not me..I'm a hard working man.

    "Think that might be a good idea..I'm sure none of us want to have a rat lounging around our rooms while we sleep or out somewhere."

    Why do I have this weird feeling, it's not rats though?..I gently tapped my head. Stop it Ernest, you're thinking way to hard on this.. Yet..If it were a case of rats..So many of them that it would bring everyone this floor together?..Something wasn't right..at all.
  19. "Danielle!? Tom?!" Misha heard their voices and then 3 others. She couldn't put their voices to faces yet (Except knowing one was named Ernest), but she knew that she wouldn't have to use her hairspray as eye-poison.

    She walked up to the group of tenants and saw everyone. Glad to fully see normal people's faces, Misha's face formed a smile that lasted for about 2 seconds. Misha looked around at the people as they talked and nodded a yes to their questions. But upon Tom's suggestion, Misha turned her head to him. "That's probably a good idea,"

    If we don't call the police first.

    Misha shook that thought off the minute it crossed her mind. "I assume we'll go as a group? Or shall just a few of us go?" Misha asked. She placed her hand on her face, covering her brown eyes (as if anyone could see her eye color in the dark). It had been--what--10 minutes and her nerves were still on edge. She'd jump at even the sound of bugs buzzing around the place or blowing wind.
  20. Jonathan had been laying there for about 15 minutes, listening to his record player when a sudden bump from the other side of the wall hit knocked the stylus off of the record causing the entire room to go silent. As the room fell quiet he felt a sinking feeling in his stomach as he looked around, the silence was deafening. He couldn’t even hear the sounds of the street below. Gritting his teeth he sat on the couch, trying to remain still.

    Accept the silence when it is given to you.

    Inahling deeply through his nose Jonathan didn’t move an inch. He could feel the hair on his arms slowly standing up on end. His first instinct was to move to the record player and try change the atmosphere but he fought these urges. His teeth clenched he began to breath deeper.

    Discipline is the path to peace. You can do this, there’s nothing to fear. Your thoughts cannot hurt you.

    Then came that sound… The scraping. Long, drawn out strokes like a child at the chalkboard.

    Jon looked up. The sounded was coming from above. The scrapes snaked across the ceiling and then down the wall to his left. His breathing became shaky as the
    sound came close.

    Finally the sound was at ear level.

    By now he was on his knees, slowly stepping off the couch, backing away from the wall hands outstretched towards the sound in a defensive posture as he moved towards his office. The dim light of the lamp began to flicker faintly as he moved out of his office and into the front hallway. Jon reached for the front hall light and flicked it on, not much liking the idea of being possibly left alone in the dark with that unpleasant sound.

    But the scraping sound changed directions and began slithering inside the wall toward the new light source, increasing in speed. The lamp in the office going dead.

    “What in the world...” he uttered to himself in disbelief as he backed right into his front door with a hard thud.

    The cracking sound of wood came from inside the wall as the scraping became more instense, suddenly the hall light too began to flicker.

    Jonathan fumbled behind himself searching for the door handle. The fixture over head began to swing slowly as if someone above were jumping up and town. Finally finding the handle, he lurchedched forward to pull the door open behind him. The door opened about and then stopped. Leaving a 2 inch view into the hallway.

    “SHIT!” he exclaimed. It was the chain lock. What a crummy piece of security. Jonathan quickly turned around and slid the lock off before desperately hurling himself out into the hallway. Triping on the edging of the door and falling on his side.

    The door slammed behind him with an unnatural force for one of that weight. At least, to his ears. Jonathan stared at the door as he lay there on his side, collecting his thoughts before he began to notice the other six tenants standing in the hall. Breathing heavily he looked up at them, utterly speechless.