Happy Saturday! Some of you may remember my post on "Writing Scary" (If not, you can read it HERE) In the post I started a short story exemplifying how to "Write Scary," and at the end of it I said that you could send me an ending to the story, and I might post a few. I received an ending today, and was absolutely blown away by it. It's written by an artist and writer named Bay, and you can find here on social media here:
Instagram: @artofbay
Twitter: @aclockworkbay
Here it is! Enjoy, and make sure to check out Bay on Twitter & Instagram!
Those eyes, those yellow-green eyes. It was as if I was starring directly into the eyes of a Timber Wolf, drawing me further and further into its deception. My memory is locked onto his face. The face which holds those beautiful, feral eyes. The prickling sensation I felt when his gaze locked mine; the seconds it took to regain my breath when he spoke to me. That is my first memory of him, and that is the moment I fell in love. Yes, the banal tale of a young girl who fell in love at first sight which is exactly what transpired. The way he would hold me, the way he would say my name. I didn’t feel terrestrial. I felt a million miles from the surface of Earth when we were together.
Callie is awoken by the crackling of the furnace. The fumes must have put her into a light sleep, but for how long? She begins to move when she notices a slight discomfort below her unbuttoned waistline. Swallowing down her sobs she passes the thought along, for she doesn’t have the time to dwell on such a horrific thing. How long exactly have I been down here? Where is he? She begins to call for him but is cut short by her own coughing. She looks into her hand and sees splatters of blood. How much did I scream? The aching of her raw throat is hardly short from becoming unbearable, and the smoke which is beginning to become noticeable does not bring her throat any ease. She looks around once more before standing. Taking into account anything that could be of use to her and the escape she must execute, her attention is drawn to the odd commodities scattered on the ground; an entire wheel barrel full of bricks, and what seems to be cement. Maybe the owner was building something? She finds the strength to stand and search again for any way to shut off the furnace.
The basement is dank and dim. Foreboding shadows are cast on the walls creating an ominous atmosphere. As Callie makes her way to the corner which holds the furnace she comes to an abrupt stop when she hears a slight scratching near the opposite wall. Fear begins to draw her back but the lulling of curiosity edges her onward towards the noises. Callie has to side-step and crawl under a rather large desk topped with mechanic tools in order to reach the wall; she scrapes her knee in doing so. The burning of her cut and the warm blood now forming a red trail down her light-wash jeans slows her pace for a moment, but she returns to her pursuit and finally reaches where she assumed the noises were coming from. Standing before the wall, holding her breath, Callie listens. Assuming it was merely vermin creeping about the basement she begins to turn back to the furnace when she hears it again. A light scraping on the other side of the brick wall, as well as a muffled moan. A moan? Fear entraps Callie releasing adrenaline throughout her veins. Her hands begin to shake as she presses her clammy palms against the cold, wet brick. “Is there somebody there?” Callie asks, “Hello? Are you there?” The scratching continues and Callie is sure of it this time, there must be somebody, or something encased on the other side. She steps back, trying to take note of anything out of the ordinary; the brick. The brick extending approximately 5 feet to her right and roughly a foot to her left is a different color. Could it be a coincidence?
Calling out again, she tries to make sense of the words which are trying to reach her, “Who’s there? Are you trapped?” But again, only muffled cries and distressing scrapes sound through the stone. Her courage steps in as she grabs the shovel hanging on the wall and swings it with every bit of force she can gather until it connects with the wall. Dust and rubble fly in every direction as she coughs through the effect of her strength to see what progress was made. Not much other than a slight dip where a few bricks meet, but she tries again. Three, four, five, six times she swings the shovel into the wall creating more and more destruction upon each point of contact. She digs her hands into the crater which has now formed, ignoring the pain searing through her blistering palms. Suddenly the rubble is pushed into her chest as a hand reaches through from the other side, grabbing her shirt. A female cry resonates through the basement, “Help me! Please! I’m begging you, help me!”
Callie begins to realize she was fated to be encased in brick just as this poor, unfortunate girl had. But why leave the furnace on? Unless it was meant as a fail-safe if she were to find a way to escape, thus rendering her weak and weary and unable to regain the strength to do so. Only whoever put her into this basement embarrassingly underestimated her ability to find strength in a moment of dire need. Callie advises the girl to step back when she lifts the shovel for another blow, only to be stopped by an abrupt wave of dizziness, causing her to drop the shovel and fall to her knees. Callie’s ears are ringing and her head is aching. She cannot make sense of her surroundings. A familiar face creeps into her vision; beautiful, yellow-green eyes draw her back when an astounding sense of relief floods through her when she realizes it’s him.
Her sense of relief quickly turns to fear when he grabs her throat and begins to crush it with such force. How could he? What is happening?! Choking sobs, gasping for air, he finally lets go just before she drifts from consciousness; weakened, but still aware. He looks directly into Callie’s eyes as he speaks, “You found her. All the work to patch the wall and yet you put that effort to waste. Well, I haven’t the time to replace the brick you tore down so if there’s one thing you carry with you until you reach a fate of similar sort, it is that this was your doing.” Confusion hits Callie until she realizes what he meant. Too weak to move, too feeble to help this poor girl she was so near to saving, she watches him fulfil the riddle he just spoke. He begins to pour gasoline into the hole that Callie created. The girl screaming so petrifyingly for him to stop, he continues to pour until the jug is empty. He then lights a match and quickly drops it into the hole before he dodges back behind the pile of masonry. The next few moments were as if Callie was looking down on herself from a nightmare. A terrible, horrifying nightmare that would not end. The screams, the cries of pain, the smell of searing flesh made Callie heave. The vomit covering the floor in front of her is the last she saw before her vision went dark.
“…do they think the walls can hide you? Even now, I’m at your window.” Callie is awoken by a beautiful voice serenading her while she slept. Chills raise the hair on her arms as that last line plays through her head. She remembers that song from when her mother took her to see “Sweeney Todd.” He continues to hum the ominous tune noticeably sung in a minor key, and he gently strokes her dirt-coated face. “So beautiful you are, Callie. You told me once you never wanted another, I am making that wish come true. I will forever be the last you ever love.” Callie is sickened by his words. He takes notice of the disgust on her face and speaks again, hardening his voice, “Callie this was meant to be. I knew from the moment I saw you that you were the one. Erase the other girl from your mind, she was merely practice for me. I wanted everything to be perfect for you. If you only knew how long I have been waiting for you, my love.”
“You are revolting. Why are you doing this to me? I thought you loved me,” Callie ends in a whisper, afraid her tears would be heard through her voice, “You don’t do this to someone you love.” His soft chuckle enrages her as he quickly retorts, “But you are wrong. It is because I love you that I am doing this. Now you will forever be mine. You will forever be here, and no one can steal you away from me. Our love will never be separated by anything but a brick wall. And once you wither away our love will continue to live throughout these very walls.” Callie cannot hear another repulsive word on his twisted sense of love. She gathers the strength her short nap helped her to regain and she connects her knee with his groin. A cry of pain escapes his gritted teeth as he lashes out, attempting to grab her arms. Callie is quick enough to elude his grip, then she charges forward and pushes him into the bricks. She turns and runs to the other side of the basement hoping to find a way out. Strong, powerful hands grab her from behind and throw her to the ground. He is on top of her before she can take a breath, pinning her against the cold, cement floor. “Why do you resist me?” He asks. They struggle against each other; punching, kicking, biting, screaming; Callie feels her strength waning and is nearing her defeat. She catches a hint of gasoline. Surely the gas he poured hadn’t reached this side of the basement, Callie thinks to herself. Soon after, she realizes that the gasoline smell is coming from him. He must have landed in it when she pushed him into the brick. She turns her head to dodge a blow and catches a small orange lighter in the corner of her vision. Reaching her arm out she catches a clean hit to her nose which most likely broke it. Blood pours onto the floor as she reaches quickly and grabs the lighter. Quickly, yet efficiently, she ignites his body and shields her face from the bright, blistering flames and watches as her own body is burned.
“Callie, it’s time for your meds. Snap out of it, sweet girl, there you go. Take these and I’ll let you rest for a while.” Callie jumps from her seat, lifting her gown and checking her legs, her arms, and her stomach for any burns. How long have I been out of it? Where are the burns? The lady who had just handed her medicine asks, “Sweetie, what’s wrong?” Callie answers, “The burns. Where are they? Where am I? Is he dead? Did I kill him?” The lady in the sky-blue coat answers her, “Honey, I tell you every day. There was no guy, there was no fire. You were found after breaking into an auto-parts store screaming and trying to break through the basement walls. Don’t you remember?” I’m so confused. Why don’t they believe me? Trying to find a name on the woman’s coat she reads in stitched letters, “Bradbury Asylum.”
Frightened, Callie tries to run to the door but becomes very sleepy. The woman catches her and guides her back to the bed. Before she drifts into her drug induced sleep she hears the woman speak, “I’m sorry Callie. One day you will get better.”
Instagram: @artofbay
Twitter: @aclockworkbay
Here it is! Enjoy, and make sure to check out Bay on Twitter & Instagram!
Those eyes, those yellow-green eyes. It was as if I was starring directly into the eyes of a Timber Wolf, drawing me further and further into its deception. My memory is locked onto his face. The face which holds those beautiful, feral eyes. The prickling sensation I felt when his gaze locked mine; the seconds it took to regain my breath when he spoke to me. That is my first memory of him, and that is the moment I fell in love. Yes, the banal tale of a young girl who fell in love at first sight which is exactly what transpired. The way he would hold me, the way he would say my name. I didn’t feel terrestrial. I felt a million miles from the surface of Earth when we were together.
Callie is awoken by the crackling of the furnace. The fumes must have put her into a light sleep, but for how long? She begins to move when she notices a slight discomfort below her unbuttoned waistline. Swallowing down her sobs she passes the thought along, for she doesn’t have the time to dwell on such a horrific thing. How long exactly have I been down here? Where is he? She begins to call for him but is cut short by her own coughing. She looks into her hand and sees splatters of blood. How much did I scream? The aching of her raw throat is hardly short from becoming unbearable, and the smoke which is beginning to become noticeable does not bring her throat any ease. She looks around once more before standing. Taking into account anything that could be of use to her and the escape she must execute, her attention is drawn to the odd commodities scattered on the ground; an entire wheel barrel full of bricks, and what seems to be cement. Maybe the owner was building something? She finds the strength to stand and search again for any way to shut off the furnace.
The basement is dank and dim. Foreboding shadows are cast on the walls creating an ominous atmosphere. As Callie makes her way to the corner which holds the furnace she comes to an abrupt stop when she hears a slight scratching near the opposite wall. Fear begins to draw her back but the lulling of curiosity edges her onward towards the noises. Callie has to side-step and crawl under a rather large desk topped with mechanic tools in order to reach the wall; she scrapes her knee in doing so. The burning of her cut and the warm blood now forming a red trail down her light-wash jeans slows her pace for a moment, but she returns to her pursuit and finally reaches where she assumed the noises were coming from. Standing before the wall, holding her breath, Callie listens. Assuming it was merely vermin creeping about the basement she begins to turn back to the furnace when she hears it again. A light scraping on the other side of the brick wall, as well as a muffled moan. A moan? Fear entraps Callie releasing adrenaline throughout her veins. Her hands begin to shake as she presses her clammy palms against the cold, wet brick. “Is there somebody there?” Callie asks, “Hello? Are you there?” The scratching continues and Callie is sure of it this time, there must be somebody, or something encased on the other side. She steps back, trying to take note of anything out of the ordinary; the brick. The brick extending approximately 5 feet to her right and roughly a foot to her left is a different color. Could it be a coincidence?
Calling out again, she tries to make sense of the words which are trying to reach her, “Who’s there? Are you trapped?” But again, only muffled cries and distressing scrapes sound through the stone. Her courage steps in as she grabs the shovel hanging on the wall and swings it with every bit of force she can gather until it connects with the wall. Dust and rubble fly in every direction as she coughs through the effect of her strength to see what progress was made. Not much other than a slight dip where a few bricks meet, but she tries again. Three, four, five, six times she swings the shovel into the wall creating more and more destruction upon each point of contact. She digs her hands into the crater which has now formed, ignoring the pain searing through her blistering palms. Suddenly the rubble is pushed into her chest as a hand reaches through from the other side, grabbing her shirt. A female cry resonates through the basement, “Help me! Please! I’m begging you, help me!”
Callie begins to realize she was fated to be encased in brick just as this poor, unfortunate girl had. But why leave the furnace on? Unless it was meant as a fail-safe if she were to find a way to escape, thus rendering her weak and weary and unable to regain the strength to do so. Only whoever put her into this basement embarrassingly underestimated her ability to find strength in a moment of dire need. Callie advises the girl to step back when she lifts the shovel for another blow, only to be stopped by an abrupt wave of dizziness, causing her to drop the shovel and fall to her knees. Callie’s ears are ringing and her head is aching. She cannot make sense of her surroundings. A familiar face creeps into her vision; beautiful, yellow-green eyes draw her back when an astounding sense of relief floods through her when she realizes it’s him.
Her sense of relief quickly turns to fear when he grabs her throat and begins to crush it with such force. How could he? What is happening?! Choking sobs, gasping for air, he finally lets go just before she drifts from consciousness; weakened, but still aware. He looks directly into Callie’s eyes as he speaks, “You found her. All the work to patch the wall and yet you put that effort to waste. Well, I haven’t the time to replace the brick you tore down so if there’s one thing you carry with you until you reach a fate of similar sort, it is that this was your doing.” Confusion hits Callie until she realizes what he meant. Too weak to move, too feeble to help this poor girl she was so near to saving, she watches him fulfil the riddle he just spoke. He begins to pour gasoline into the hole that Callie created. The girl screaming so petrifyingly for him to stop, he continues to pour until the jug is empty. He then lights a match and quickly drops it into the hole before he dodges back behind the pile of masonry. The next few moments were as if Callie was looking down on herself from a nightmare. A terrible, horrifying nightmare that would not end. The screams, the cries of pain, the smell of searing flesh made Callie heave. The vomit covering the floor in front of her is the last she saw before her vision went dark.
“…do they think the walls can hide you? Even now, I’m at your window.” Callie is awoken by a beautiful voice serenading her while she slept. Chills raise the hair on her arms as that last line plays through her head. She remembers that song from when her mother took her to see “Sweeney Todd.” He continues to hum the ominous tune noticeably sung in a minor key, and he gently strokes her dirt-coated face. “So beautiful you are, Callie. You told me once you never wanted another, I am making that wish come true. I will forever be the last you ever love.” Callie is sickened by his words. He takes notice of the disgust on her face and speaks again, hardening his voice, “Callie this was meant to be. I knew from the moment I saw you that you were the one. Erase the other girl from your mind, she was merely practice for me. I wanted everything to be perfect for you. If you only knew how long I have been waiting for you, my love.”
“You are revolting. Why are you doing this to me? I thought you loved me,” Callie ends in a whisper, afraid her tears would be heard through her voice, “You don’t do this to someone you love.” His soft chuckle enrages her as he quickly retorts, “But you are wrong. It is because I love you that I am doing this. Now you will forever be mine. You will forever be here, and no one can steal you away from me. Our love will never be separated by anything but a brick wall. And once you wither away our love will continue to live throughout these very walls.” Callie cannot hear another repulsive word on his twisted sense of love. She gathers the strength her short nap helped her to regain and she connects her knee with his groin. A cry of pain escapes his gritted teeth as he lashes out, attempting to grab her arms. Callie is quick enough to elude his grip, then she charges forward and pushes him into the bricks. She turns and runs to the other side of the basement hoping to find a way out. Strong, powerful hands grab her from behind and throw her to the ground. He is on top of her before she can take a breath, pinning her against the cold, cement floor. “Why do you resist me?” He asks. They struggle against each other; punching, kicking, biting, screaming; Callie feels her strength waning and is nearing her defeat. She catches a hint of gasoline. Surely the gas he poured hadn’t reached this side of the basement, Callie thinks to herself. Soon after, she realizes that the gasoline smell is coming from him. He must have landed in it when she pushed him into the brick. She turns her head to dodge a blow and catches a small orange lighter in the corner of her vision. Reaching her arm out she catches a clean hit to her nose which most likely broke it. Blood pours onto the floor as she reaches quickly and grabs the lighter. Quickly, yet efficiently, she ignites his body and shields her face from the bright, blistering flames and watches as her own body is burned.
“Callie, it’s time for your meds. Snap out of it, sweet girl, there you go. Take these and I’ll let you rest for a while.” Callie jumps from her seat, lifting her gown and checking her legs, her arms, and her stomach for any burns. How long have I been out of it? Where are the burns? The lady who had just handed her medicine asks, “Sweetie, what’s wrong?” Callie answers, “The burns. Where are they? Where am I? Is he dead? Did I kill him?” The lady in the sky-blue coat answers her, “Honey, I tell you every day. There was no guy, there was no fire. You were found after breaking into an auto-parts store screaming and trying to break through the basement walls. Don’t you remember?” I’m so confused. Why don’t they believe me? Trying to find a name on the woman’s coat she reads in stitched letters, “Bradbury Asylum.”
Frightened, Callie tries to run to the door but becomes very sleepy. The woman catches her and guides her back to the bed. Before she drifts into her drug induced sleep she hears the woman speak, “I’m sorry Callie. One day you will get better.”
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