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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Teens
- Theme: Mystery
- Subject: Horror / Scary
- Published: 03/20/2013
At the Crossroads
Born 1998, M, from Dubai, United Arab EmiratesAt the Crossroads
Into how many vistas of hallucination and despair can a person delve if he or she took the wrong turn at an intersection is incalculable only by a few, of whom I am one. Indeed I do now wonder whether the strange occurrence on the 17th of January was merely an illusion of the mind; or a hint that bespoke of horrors which we as humans are ignorant to.
Being since my childhood a man with a natural distaste toward social activities, and yet who admired nature in its quietest, I adopted a habit of having a nocturnal stroll through the suburban streets of Cambridge. My strolls usually began in the midnight where only few straggling people walk the streets. I usually began from my house; pass by Orchard Park, then in to the abandoned railway track; where even the street's lamps are devoured by a very tangled stretch of trees, in which a man scarcely can see the outlines of his hands.
On the 17th of this month, I started the course of my stroll as mentioned before. The gibbous moon above gave everything a subtle iridescence. I walked slowly, humming to myself peacefully when I came upon the railway track. As I memorized the path rather than saw it, I kept walking forward when I saw another darker intersection which I had never remembered seeing before. And so propelled on by the sort of curiosity that wrecks the life of a youth, I entered the small avenue; and so I paid a price greater than Orpheus, he who looked over his shoulder.
I crawled onwards slowly, not a thing stirred. Then I saw it. From a window of a dilapidated house nearby me, I saw a hanged corpse with a rough spun sack on its head, where clotted, congealed blood trickled down the sack. Just a flicker and everything returned to the pitch darkness the street was.
I uttered the most girlish squeak that my male organs could muster, and yet instead of succumbing to fear and retreating from whence I came, I found myself irresistibly drawn toward that particular house. I advanced to the porch, where I saw that the house's number was 1\3, in the ancient style that English houses were numbered in. I pushed the creaking door, and turned on my phone's flash.
I felt rather than saw a body creep beside me. Thus, when I turned the light on it, I saw a starkly-naked humanoid being- for it is certainly no man- with hunched shoulders and reddishly-purple body. Being no more than 80 centimeters in length, it walked on its hands and feet, ignoring my presence completely.
I froze in my place as another of those beings crawled past the open door. Instead of going upstairs, as his kin did, he went to the kitchen and I followed him with a strange spark of fascination that fed my dark fantasies. The kitchen was dark as darkness is capable to be. I turned around looking for that hideous beast, yet saw nothing. Suddenly, I saw the flicker which occurred to me before, and this time, I saw a woman – where I swear in God's name thrice that there was nothing of the sort before!- with her internal organs spilled on the ground, and the latter beast hunched over her entrails, slowly devouring them. And the flicker dissipated.
In a moment, my former humanity returned to me, and as I grasped the meaning of all these things, I fled as fast as I could, yet a sort of delirium blinded my senses; and I found myself going unconscious, as sky and land both became one.
In the following day, I woke up to find myself in the hospital, where a nurse confessed to me that a passerby saw me sprawled on the railway track in a deep coma on the morning. As to house 1\3, I made many inquiries concerning it, where a retired police officer told me that about 50 years ago, two deformed children with mentally malfunctioned brains butchered their parents; one killed the mother, whilst the other hanged his father by means unknown. House 1\3 was destructed years ago.
At the Crossroads(Mohammad Saif)
At the Crossroads
Into how many vistas of hallucination and despair can a person delve if he or she took the wrong turn at an intersection is incalculable only by a few, of whom I am one. Indeed I do now wonder whether the strange occurrence on the 17th of January was merely an illusion of the mind; or a hint that bespoke of horrors which we as humans are ignorant to.
Being since my childhood a man with a natural distaste toward social activities, and yet who admired nature in its quietest, I adopted a habit of having a nocturnal stroll through the suburban streets of Cambridge. My strolls usually began in the midnight where only few straggling people walk the streets. I usually began from my house; pass by Orchard Park, then in to the abandoned railway track; where even the street's lamps are devoured by a very tangled stretch of trees, in which a man scarcely can see the outlines of his hands.
On the 17th of this month, I started the course of my stroll as mentioned before. The gibbous moon above gave everything a subtle iridescence. I walked slowly, humming to myself peacefully when I came upon the railway track. As I memorized the path rather than saw it, I kept walking forward when I saw another darker intersection which I had never remembered seeing before. And so propelled on by the sort of curiosity that wrecks the life of a youth, I entered the small avenue; and so I paid a price greater than Orpheus, he who looked over his shoulder.
I crawled onwards slowly, not a thing stirred. Then I saw it. From a window of a dilapidated house nearby me, I saw a hanged corpse with a rough spun sack on its head, where clotted, congealed blood trickled down the sack. Just a flicker and everything returned to the pitch darkness the street was.
I uttered the most girlish squeak that my male organs could muster, and yet instead of succumbing to fear and retreating from whence I came, I found myself irresistibly drawn toward that particular house. I advanced to the porch, where I saw that the house's number was 1\3, in the ancient style that English houses were numbered in. I pushed the creaking door, and turned on my phone's flash.
I felt rather than saw a body creep beside me. Thus, when I turned the light on it, I saw a starkly-naked humanoid being- for it is certainly no man- with hunched shoulders and reddishly-purple body. Being no more than 80 centimeters in length, it walked on its hands and feet, ignoring my presence completely.
I froze in my place as another of those beings crawled past the open door. Instead of going upstairs, as his kin did, he went to the kitchen and I followed him with a strange spark of fascination that fed my dark fantasies. The kitchen was dark as darkness is capable to be. I turned around looking for that hideous beast, yet saw nothing. Suddenly, I saw the flicker which occurred to me before, and this time, I saw a woman – where I swear in God's name thrice that there was nothing of the sort before!- with her internal organs spilled on the ground, and the latter beast hunched over her entrails, slowly devouring them. And the flicker dissipated.
In a moment, my former humanity returned to me, and as I grasped the meaning of all these things, I fled as fast as I could, yet a sort of delirium blinded my senses; and I found myself going unconscious, as sky and land both became one.
In the following day, I woke up to find myself in the hospital, where a nurse confessed to me that a passerby saw me sprawled on the railway track in a deep coma on the morning. As to house 1\3, I made many inquiries concerning it, where a retired police officer told me that about 50 years ago, two deformed children with mentally malfunctioned brains butchered their parents; one killed the mother, whilst the other hanged his father by means unknown. House 1\3 was destructed years ago.
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