The last thing I remember was what I saw in the darkness of that little room. The door that Garrett constantly locked, the door that was as fragile as a stick, was shaking with impact yet never budged. Did he know? Was he trying to save me?
It was cold after that. I never did hear the door burst open, shattering into splinters like it was supposed to. I was never given my knight in rusted armor.
Michael had disappeared a long time after he spoke to me. What he talked about made it seem like he was speaking in a different language. I'm going to hell? Wasn't I already there?
I disappeared too but not how I envisioned it.
I woke outside of a cabin, set in the surrounding green pines heavy with fresh snow. It wasn't as cold as I thought it would be and after I came to when I noticed the temperature reaching the eighties did I see that the area I was strangely sitting in was not covered in snow.
I was in the center of this mass circle of summer, like I gave off the heat to melt the snow and reveal the grass. It's all I could describe that as.
I knew it sounded silly but I didn't have time to think about the mechanics of it.
One minute I'm in my prison cell with that Michael thing, with Garrett trying to get in and the next I'm outside in a forest with the weather, the physics, acting like an episode of the Twilight Zone.
I stood up and made my way to the cabin. I didn't really have any reason to but it seemed best to just get indoors. I was already out of my mind anyway and I didn't have much control over where I went.
With each step I took, the snow melted away, almost as if it were repulsed by my presence. The summer followed me, the grass growing beneath my bare feet and the flowers blooming behind me.
Once I opened that door, it hit me. It was Garrett's cabin, the living room just as immaculate as he left it. Well, I left it.
It still didn't stop my course to the room he held me in. When I took hold of the handle, I was suddenly pushed away yet not physically. The edges of my vision blurred into one central image and I ended up outside of my orphanage, staring at the gray handle leading inside.
I wasn't mind blown, wasn't scared, just eager to keep on the path that was planned for me. I couldn't control what I felt, what I did.
The orphanage was left the way it was too but the people, the kids, my friends, were gone. I could hear them but they weren't here. Just ghosts reliving their lives.
I was pulled to the stairs and I climbed them to my room, passing by the gray walls and shambled doors. There were drawings on the wood, made with crayon, but they were too sloppy to understand.
My room was at the far end of the second floor, the farthest from anyone. When I opened the door, I felt the horror come rushing back to me.
It was me, little child Emma sitting on her bed with her knees up to her chest, staring at the open window. It was night; I was wearing my pajama's and the moon shone through. But not through the window I was staring at with eyes wide open.
It was a black mass of contorting shadows that formed a figure. It's features lightened when I stepped into my room and with a sudden sense of familiarity I saw that it was Michael. He was watching me, both of us at the same time. I didn't know how but he just was. His eyes bore into little Emma and his eyes also stared into mine, freezing me in my spot.
There was a strange noise and then I remember falling down into darkness.
YOU ARE READING
Phasmophobia
Short Story*archived | written long ago* I was kidnapped. I didn't ask why. He never told me. I don't know him but he knows me. Now, he has me and he tells me he'll love me. Always and forever.
