The Witching Hour

Discussion in 'THREAD ARCHIVES' started by Mid, May 10, 2014.

Thread Status:
Not open for further replies.
  1. “She’s crashing! Get the cart!”

    Nurses rushed around me as orders were thrown at them by a doctor reaching for a defibrillator; the sound of someone flat lining in the room was deafening and frightening. I found myself stuck in place by the doorway of room 529, unable to move but more importantly, afraid of what I may see. Clasping a hand against my chest, I did my best to hold my sobs in when the sound of a strangled cry not belonging to me caught my attention. It came from the lips of my father, his hands which once held two cups of coffee where now struggling viciously against two men in scrubs. Security could be seen running towards us as my father began calling out a name that I couldn’t hear.

    Have you ever seen things move in slow motion without sound? What did they call it..? Surrealism. Yes, that was the word. Nothing seemed real at this moment and honestly, I couldn’t understand what was happening. Not my father collapsing to the floor like the broken man he has become, not the doctors who were now speaking to him causing more hysteria and most importantly, not the pale hand that had fallen from under the blanket keeping the face hidden from view. I fainted.

    Two months have passed since then…

    “Dad..?” Looking through my father’s bedroom door, I waited for a response yet as expected, there was none. For the most part, he’s been holed up in his bedroom mourning mom’s loss. Was it strange that I didn’t feel so overwhelmed with emotion? They say we all mourn differently yet, I barely felt anything. Maybe it was because we were never as close as other mothers and daughters but still…

    They said we resembled each other, I didn’t see it yet I’ve been told I have her bedroom eyes hidden beneath thick eyelashes, same dark brown curls that crept down my back. We even have the same beauty mark that rested against our collarbones and a gap between our teeth but still…I felt more like a plain Jane then the beauty that was my mother. Maybe this was the reason why I now avoided looking in a mirror. It could even possibly be the reason why my father barely spoke to me now…

    Perhaps the resemblance was too much for him for he barely exchanged words with me, never ate the food I made rather he just ate take out. It was like I no longer existed to him although there were times when he would walk by my room and just stop, right by the doorframe and just stare at me before shutting the door closed. I have never felt so…alone in my life until now.

    Sighing heavily, I closed the door figuring it would be best to leave him to deal with his demons alone. A small word escaped me, “Mom,” and I realized that it wasn’t the sound of heartache but a word filled with anger. My hand clasped tightly against the locket I kept around my neck. It was hers, something passed down throughout our family and honestly, a part of me wanted to trash it but I just couldn’t bring myself to do that. It wasn’t anything spectacular yet it was the only thing I had of hers. A gold oval shape with some kind of green markings on it and a broken clasp leaving it locked for who knows how long. There was a mild curiosity as to what lies within and maybe that’s why I wanted it. Does it make me a cruel person when curiosity overrides sentimental value?

    Lying in bed, I found myself unable to sleep again. It’s nearing 2am but there was this irritating buzzing sound that seems to have gotten louder since the first time I heard it two months ago. Shoving the pillow against my head, a groan of annoyance escaped me before I finally gave up and sat up ruggedly. “Dad..?” Calling out again, I still received no response. “Must have slept with the TV on again.”

    Sighing loudly, I placed my feet on the ground when I froze. There was something breathing heavily by my closet mirror. Slowly, I reached over to my nightstand and turned on the lamp that rested on it. As the room lit up, the breathing got louder and a small yelp escaped me. How is this possible? The mirror hung against the door with no stand and was covered by a white cloth with me being the only person in the room. Fear crept over me as I got up and ran towards the door before a scream escaped me. It shut closed and I could hear voices.

    There was a breeze creeping from under the sheet, getting stronger as time passed by and I fell in an attempt to hold on to something. That breeze had now become violent; it bounced against the walls while it pushed me towards the black void that now took hold of my mirror. “DAAAADDD!!!” I screamed as my grip started to loosen but still he did not come. Looking down, my once dull locket was floating before my eyes and now glow an eerie green. My grasp was gone and I found myself struggling against the frame, fear in my heart but it was no use. I was gone.

    “Is she dead?”

    “I call dibs on her nightgown!”

    “What?! I found her first so I’m getting it! Besides, it would look prettier on me anyways.”

    “H-hey, no fair! I called it!” The sounds of scuffling followed, stirring me slightly from my slumber. There were young children around me and I raised a hand weakly, trying to speak but my words were jumbled together and I couldn’t focus on anything. “She’s alive! Let’s get out of here!” They scrambled away, I called for help or at least I thought I did before my hand fell and darkness overcame me again.
  2. It is often said that mirrors represent many things. Some believed that a mirror could show your true self, others that it was a pathway to a whole other world. I never believed this. What a foolish notion, to believe that a mirror could show you something other than your own reflection. I stared at my mirror, wondering what caused such foolish ideals to begin with. Where did it all begin? Well, none of that existed here. Sometimes I would see things, things that didn't make sense, but I always put it down to being overtired. It was so hard to get a decent sleep when your nightlife was as active as mine.

    'Trent, your friends are here!' My sister called, a hint of exasperation in her tone. She didn't understand, no one did. They didn't get that this place was desperate, pathetically following the orders of a corrupt government. I closed my cupboard, hiding the mirror on the inside as I did so. it's strange but I couldn't remember why I had been gazing at it for so long in the first place. 'TRENT!' I cringed at Vanessa's voice. She could be so shrill when she wanted to. Sometimes I would wonder if she ought to join the military. She'd make a great drill sergeant. Grabbing my coat, I traipsed down the stairs, locking my bedroom door beforehand. The thing about me is that I have serious trust issues. The last thing I need is for people to enter my space, go through my things and find out what I really do of an evening when they think I'm staying with my friends.

    'Finally. Get lost would you?' Vanessa said, practically shoving me out the door. The truth was that she hated me. I'm not kidding. At twenty four, she still hadn't forgiven me for being born. I mean, there's only three years between us. You'd expect that kind of behaviour from a ten year old towards a newborn, not a full grown adult toward her also adult brother. Still, it was fun to provoke her. 'I'll try my hardest just for you sis.' She glared at him, slamming the door behind me as I walked outside, chuckling. My friend Xavier shivered. 'Your sister is cold dude, cold as ice.' I had to agree, smirking a little. 'When she's not pissed off. Then her temper is hotter than a kiln.' Still snickering a little I stepped out onto the sidewalk, pulling my hood up against the wind that was brewing. 'Storm's coming.' Xavier commented casually and I nodded. Yes, a storm was coming. We'd have to make sure we had the correct preparations.


    The alarms started to sound as we bolted the scene, the sound of our shoes pounding on the pavement in time with the hearts sounding in our ears. The rush was exhilarating. This was it, this was why I had joined Valiant. The adrenaline rushing through my veins made me feel invincible. We got clear of the property, scaling the boundary fence and then looking back at our handiwork as the first hints of fire began to become known. We took only a few moments to admire what we had accomplished before the sound of sirens in the distance had us on our way again, merging amongst the crowds that had already started gathering. 'Let's split and regroup back at HQ.' My accomplices nodded and dissolved into the crowd of people. I headed in the opposite direction. A rush like this one always had me on edge. If

    As I walked, waiting for the high to wane, letting caution regain control, I began to take more notice of my surroundings. You could never be too careful. My instincts were on full alert as the sound of voices ahead reached my ears and I paused. Starting to listen, I walked toward them. 'I call dibs on her nightgown!' God, not another dumped body. These kids were like vultures. They were always first at a dumpsite and would pick the carcasses of anything worth keeping. I wonder which poor sap got it this time. I thought to myself, still listening to them argue over who got the girl's nightie. As I rounded the corner I heard one of them yelp in surprise, proclaiming her to be alive and then they scattered, barging past me on the way out. My gaze fell on the crumpled form of the girl, and something clicked. I knew her. I wasn't sure how, but I did. Had she been dead I'd probably have left her there. But she was alive. Her chest rose and fell, her eyes closed. Perhaps she was unconscious. I should call the authorities, let them deal with it. But something niggled at the back of my mind. What if she was hurt? What if she was one of them? After a brief debate with my conscience, one that I apparently lost, I attempted to wake her. When she didn't, I scooped her up into my arms, glad of the extra work out I'd been putting myself through. If you wanted to be in a vigilante rebel group then you had to be in peak condition.

    'Christ, where the hell have you been!' Xavier exclaimed as I pushed open the door, backing in so the stranger didn't get hurt. 'Who the hell is she?' Was his next question. I just grunted, laying her on the sofa. That was the funny thing about headquarters. They always had a sofa. Maybe it was just for circumstances like this. 'I found her a few blocks away. She's alive.' I searched through a cupboard, finding an old blanket and throwing it over the girl. 'So you brought her here? Why didn't you leave her for the authorities? What if she's one of them?' I whirled on Xavier, heat in my gaze. 'You think I didn't think of that? I don't know why I brought her, I just did. If she is one of them then maybe we can use her to our advantage. We won't know until she wakes up.' Robert grunted as I spoke, standing up from his position at the table. 'Then let's wake her up.' He said gruffly, grabbing bucket and disappearing for a moment. He returned with it full of water and before I could protest, he had doused her in it. 'Goddamn it you can't just go around doing shit like that, Rob! You could get us killed!' Rob just shoved me lightly. 'Stop being so pathetic. We need answers, she might have them. You can't go being mister gallant every time you see a girl passed out in the street.' I sighed, waiting to see if she'd wake up. 'I'm going to find her something to wear, since you just ruined what little she has.' I muttered, rubbing my eyes. We had to have something laying around this place somewhere.
Thread Status:
Not open for further replies.