Watch the following short horror film( all of them are 5 to 10 minutes long) for better experience.
IGNORE IT.
LOOK CLOSER.
THE PRETTY THING.
OTHER SIDE OF THE BOX.
DOUBLE VISION.
You can read early chapters on my [P].[A].[T].[R].[E].[O].[N].
Link: [email protected]/Arson09
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2nd January, 2014
Fairview, Connecticut
Justin sat on his bed, eyes fixed on his Nintendo, when his bedroom door swung open. His father hurried in and sat beside him.
"Justin," his father said, his voice a frantic whisper. "I want you to listen very carefully." He took a heavy breath. "She is back."
"What?" Justin wanted to ask why, but his father pressed on.
"Remember the rules. You must ignore her as much as possible, all right? Just like last time. Don't look at her. Don't even think about her."
Fear flooded Justin's face. His father gripped his shoulder, trying to offer reassurance. "I promise she's going to leave... but only if you pretend she isn't there. Promise me."
"Okay... okay," Justin mumbled.
His father stood and moved to the door. "Let's join your mom and Emily downstairs for dinner." He looked over his shoulder one last time. "Stay focused."
As Justin took his first step onto the landing, a sharp creak echoed from the adjacent room. He didn't turn. He took a deep breath and continued downstairs.
The rest of the house was shrouded in darkness; only the lamp over the dining table was lit. His father pulled out a chair, and Justin sat next to Emily. They exchanged a look of pure dread before staring at their plates.
"Go ahead, eat your food," his mother said.
Then they all heard it: heavy, deliberate footsteps coming from upstairs.
"So, Emily... how did your algebra test go today?" his father asked, his voice strained.
"I think I passed," Emily whispered. "I don't know."
"That's good, Em. That's good," his father replied. "Hon... dinner is great."
"Thank you," his mother answered.
Justin couldn't take the suffocating silence. "Dad... I don't understand. What's going on?"
"Quiet, Justin," his father said, lips pressed thin. "Pass me the salt."
"Why is she back?" Justin demanded.
"I SAID QUIET!" his father shouted, slamming his hand onto the table.
They felt it before they heard it. The atmosphere grew ice-cold and heavy. Then came the footsteps, closer now. Justin's hands shook as he reached for his fork.
"Just ignore her... it's the only way," his father muttered as the treading became more defined. "Just ignore it, Justin."
He couldn't. He lifted his spoon to eye level, catching a glimpse of the woman's reflection in the metal. He slammed it down immediately. Beside him, Emily began to hyperventilate as a hand reached from the shadows behind her—grey, sickly, with long, filthy nails—and clamped onto her shoulder.
"Dad?" Emily sobbed.
His father shook his head in terror. "It's okay, honey. Just finish everything on your plate."
Emily reached for her fork, but the grip on her shoulder tightened. She forced herself to keep eating.
"We can't keep doing this," his mother mumbled. "Can't keep doing this!"
Shrill! Shrill!
The ring of the landline shattered the stupor. After the third ring, his mother stood. "I'll get it."
"Just let it ring!" his father pleaded.
"I'll get it." She walked toward the next room.
"Em, eat," his father whispered frantically to Emily.
The hand vanished from Emily's shoulder, but the entity began walking toward the kitchen.
"LEAVE US ALONE!" his mother's voice screamed from the other room.
"Hon?" his father called out.
"LEAVE MY FAMILY ALONE!"
"Hon? Come back inside!"
Crack! Crack!
His father rushed out, and Justin followed, leaving Emily frozen in her seat. The bathroom door slammed shut with his mother inside. His father began kicking and pounding on the wood. Choking noises drifted from behind the door.
"NO! NO! LEAVE HER ALONE!" his father screamed. Then, an inhuman sound erupted—it seemed to be coming from his mother's throat.
Justin stood paralyzed. His father turned to him, eyes wide. "Justin, get back inside!"
Suddenly, a sharp, distinct crack echoed. His mother's voice stopped instantly.
Beep... beep... beep...
The landline continued its off-hook drone. Suddenly, the bathroom door burst outward with the force of an explosion. His father was thrown against the back wall and slumped down, motionless.
Footsteps approached the doorway. A hand, black as night, gripped the doorframe.
Before Justin could see more, Emily appeared behind him and spun him around.
"Just ignore it," she sobbed, her eyes fixed over his shoulder. "Just ignore it. Just ignore it."
He looked into her eyes and saw the reflection of the woman standing right behind him through her glasses. Emily tried to speak the words, but her eyes wouldn't stop following the figure.
Emily couldn't ignore it.
Similar occurance were happening across Fairview.
Returning from a rental studio after work, Juliana was reading an online article about people finding "workplace doppelgängers"—and how it had left them completely freaked out.
She smiled at the thought. What are the chances I'll find a doppelgänger someday?
Her apartment was within walking distance of the office. As she rounded a corner and looked ahead, she saw it: her.
A doppelgänger of herself was standing silently beside a parked car.
She looked around to see if anyone else was there, but when she glanced back, the double was gone.
Spooked, Juliana hurried her pace until she reached her home, Apartment 1506. She closed the door behind her and went up to her room to prepare her blog post for the day. She was typing away on her laptop when...
Thud.
A heavy sound echoed from downstairs. She made her way down the stairs and found the main door standing wide open.
Anxious, she hurried to close it.
As she looked around the darkened room and turned to head back up to her bedroom, Juliana paused.
She looked up and stared for several seconds, unable to believe what she was seeing. From the top of the stairs, a human head—no, not just any head, but her own—was peeking out with a creepy smile.
She stumbled back, flicked off the hallway lights, and covered her eyes with her hands.
The last sound she heard was footsteps of the entity coming downstairs towards her.
At another house, only two blocks away:
Thompson Sewell was an aspiring artist, currently immersed in a painting of the flower bouquets his girlfriend had brought him this morning. Her birthday was approaching, and he imagined surprising her with this completed canvas.
As he meticulously worked on the blue petals of a single flower, Sewell leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes. He had been at it for six consecutive hours, and the fatigue was starting to show.
However, as he opened his eyes, he flinched back in shock. The painting he had been working on was gone, replaced by another object wrapped in thick paper with a crumpled tag attached to it.
Sewell glanced behind him; the room opposite his workspace was swallowed in shadow. He felt a jarring mixture of mild terror and dark intrigue.
He turned back, the corner of his mouth curving into a distorted smile. "Hahahaha."
Producing a sharp palette knife, he sliced open the wrapped artwork. The tag bore only two words: "LOOK CLOSER." In one fluid motion, he unveiled the canvas and began to analyze the piece.
'Ah... the central focus is a menacing, skull-like face in a tailored suit, he thought. Those features... dark, hollowed sockets and a wide, needle-toothed grin. Hehe... the background is a void-black abyss, amplified by the skull being positioned on the far left, leaving the right completely empty. And those teeth... they look so real.'
He heard it before he saw it—a rhythmic thumping like a heartbeat emanating from the canvas. Intrigued, he pulled the painting forward and turned it around to examine the back.
Nothing. Only a blank white surface. Yet, the heartbeat persisted.
Kashchhhhhh!
The vase he had been painting shattered, the ceramic shards littering the floor. The flowers, vibrant moments ago, withered instantly, losing their luster. The heartbeat grew louder. He flipped the painting back and laid it on the table.
Remembering the tag's instructions—"Look Closer"—he leaned in until his face was inches from the black void. As he neared the canvas, the heartbeat abruptly stopped.
His eyes drifted to the left. The skull face was gone. The area where it had been was now coated in a thick, wet substance. He touched it with his fingertips to confirm. This isn't paint, he realized, the metallic scent of blood filling his nostrils.
His focus shifted to where he had smeared the liquid. Something was written beneath the gore, partially obscured. He gulped, frantically scratching away the drying blood to reveal the message. He froze as the words became clear:
"BEHIND YOU."
Crack! Crack!
The floorboards in the room behind him shrieked, the sound stilling his breath. He turned with agonizing slowness. Standing in the doorway was the entity—the same skull-faced figure in the tailored suit. It stood motionless, its ear-to-ear grin mirroring the painting.
Sewell was beyond terrified; his eyes bulged from their sockets as the sheer horror took hold. Then came the footsteps—heavy, deliberate, and closing in.
Thud... thud... thud... thud...
He snatched up the palette knife. Just as the entity reached his back, he lunged forward with his eyes squeezed shut, stabbing the blade into the black canvas with every ounce of strength he possessed.
He waited, trembling, before opening his eyes and releasing a jagged breath. The knife had vanished. The bouquet he had been painting at the start of the night was back on the canvas. Sewell looked behind him; the room was empty. He looked to the side; the flower vase was back in its original position, pristine, as if nothing had happened.
"Huhu... Hahah!" He laughed breathlessly. I've been working too hard, he thought, reaching out to remove the canvas and finish for the night.
In that instant, a hand reached out from behind the canvas itself. The entity's fingers tore cleanly through his neck.
Thud.
The sound of Thompson Sewell's head hitting the floor echoed through the room. A second later, his body, his head, and his original painting vanished. In their place sat a new work of art.
The painting depicted two figures, one positioned above the other. Both possessed unsettling, clown-like faces with wide, white eyes staring directly at the observer.
Exaggerated, toothy smiles seemed to physically grow out of the canvas. The upper figure wore a dark suit and a light blue tie, its eyes piercing and clear. The lower figure wore a light-colored buttoned shirt—identical to the one Sewell had been wearing—but its eye sockets were nothing but hollow, black pits.
These were only a few among the many strange occurrences manifesting across Fairview:
On New Year's Eve, Ben and Rachel were contacted by their estranged friend Shawn, Rachel's ex-boyfriend, who had arrived bearing a mysterious gift: a BLACK BOX. However, the situation quickly escalated when they pried the lid open, only to realize that something malevolent was desperately trying to claw its way out from the "other side" of the container.
Meanwhile, on the outskirts of town in a cozy wooden cabin, Mona could be seen texting her roommate, Jess. Mona, a typical college student, was obsessed with "pretty things" and aesthetic perfection. What she failed to realize, however, was that a terrifying entity defined by a creepy, smiling face, also fond of "pretty things", was destined to pay them a visit that very same night.
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A/N: So how was the chapter?
GIVE POWER STONES,IF YOU ARE ENJOYING THE STORY.
( It keeps me motivated to further write more chapters.)