Let's Play by getlost548
"Can we play?" asked Peter, pestering his older sister; his eyes shone as he looked at her, thinking she might actually play.
"No!" she yelled bluntly, taking a bite from her chocolate while reading '31 Days of Fright,' a book she found in the thorns in the backyard. She was bored, and she loved frightening herself; it was hilarious when she scared her friends. She'll have some good stories to tell at their next sleepover.
Peter's eyes turned dark and asked rudely, "rethink!"
"Nope."
"Your choice . . ."
"I'm happy with it."
"Look up!" he commanded in a sinister voice.
She clicked her tongue, rolled her eyes and sighed. "Typical," she thought,"I don't have time to play games!" Suddenly she felt something cold drip down her spine that made her whole body shiver. She slowly turned her head up, forcing her heart to slow down. "It's just Peter playing!" She thought, forcing the thought to become a reality. No such luck existed, she felt her face turn pale; her eyes bulged, and her heart skipped a beat.
The words, "I WILL KILL YOU!!" was beautifully embroidered on the wall above her. She put her hand down her back and felt the liquid slipping beneath her fingers; she brought it to her face. Blood. Red, scarlet blood. "Haha," she laughed hesitantly, "Nice joke, how did you get up there?"
"Charlie did."
"Charlie?"
"He wants to play!" Peter yelled enthusiastically, pulling a doll from behind his back; it was old, caked in dust. It had black hair, and red eyes and it had the smile of a snake plastered on its face.
"I want to play a game," said Peter. But it wasn't Peters' voice. It was more of an adults voice. Peter dropped the doll and produced a knife, painted with red liquid. Blood.
"What type of game?" she whispered, barely being able to breathe.
"Hide and seek. If I find you, I get to slice you, and if you don't find me, another slice. But if you find me, you win, and I leave. Can't wait to kill you! Okay?"
She nodded to the kid in front of her known as Peter, and yet, it wasn't Peter. His eyes turned red, and the snakelike smile was painted across his face too. It was as if the doll had become real.
"10, 9, 8 . . ." he melodically sang.
Realising what was happening, she ran. She ran and ran everywhere until she finally found a spot, under the bushes, in the garden.
The garden could have been mistaken for an ancient city; vines covered the walls and piles of thorns were in another. She figured that if she hid in the thorns, he wouldn't be able to get her. She squeezed herself in between, throwing more thorns over herself as camouflage. She breathed heavily, her heart practically pounding off her chest.She looked around, and a flash caught her eye, she looked to her left and saw a jet black material shine.
"I have time," she thought, "there could be something there to help me!" She quickly started to dig, completely forgetting about the last ten minutes of her life. Her nails hit something hard, and she stopped. She looked at the stone before her . . . "Here lies Charlie; he was young and beautiful. But he won't be missed." She re-read the last line.
"But he won't be missed." What? Her heavy breaths turned heavier as her mind whirled with questions and thoughts. Abruptly, she felt hot breath on her neck and an icy shiver down her spine.
"Got yah!" whispered Charlie.
She screamed, and felt her consciousness fade. She fluttered her eyes open to a blinding light. She moaned and covered her eyes with her left arm. Instantly, she felt a sharp pang in her thighs and looked down to reveal that her jeans had turned a dark scarlet colour. And in the middle of the gruesome stain, was a cut. I shan't go any further since I think you got my point.
"You're finally awake. Let's play again!" she heard the cold voice yell sweetly; it made her sick.
"Your turn!"
"Okay," she replied, her eyes stung, and her throat felt parched. She solemnly started, "10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, 0! Ready or not here I come!" She silently slipped out of bed and took a look around, the curtain moved, and she turned. Nothing. Then a thought occurred to her. She remembered the times she played with Peter; they had five minutes to find each other. She looked at the antique watch in front of her. Two minutes. Two minutes to find him before it was too late.
"Hehe." Her heart started to race. Where did that laugh come from? The air felt tense as she helplessly turned and turned, searching for a face. Searching for a way out.She felt a heavy weight fall on her back as the air in her lungs was pushed out.
"This is fun!"
"NOOOO," she shrieked, feeling something slash through her shoulder. She screamed. She screamed and screamed at the top of her lungs, while Charlie was smiling. Suddenly, her body was filled with rage, her eyes turned on fire, and the pain subsided. She pushed the boy off her back and turned around. He was still smirking, knife in one hand and the other clenched into a tight fist.
"Well, you've turned feisty. Too bad though. Cause your brother's soul is slowly fading. Hahahaha!!" he laughed at her face.
Suddenly, something hit her on the side of her head. She got it, she ran to the back garden, slamming the door behind her.
"Trying to run away no way? Don't be afraid; I'll only give you a couple of more slashes with my knife to satisfy you. Hahaha!"
She took no notice and ran through the thorn bushes. To the grave; it was still there, but un-dug. There laid a skeleton, as small as Peter. It had an axe through its head. Beside it lay a book. She picked it up.
"Maybe it'll go if I give it this..." she took no time to think about it and ran out of the thorns.
"Well, it took you long enough to get out of those thorns. Now come here so I can take a good slice!" He said, licking his knife.
Her eyes shot out a glare, and shouted, "take this and leave us alone!" She threw the book, and it skidded across the lawn.
"No, no! Get that away from me. Not my god-damn diary!"
She ran and picked it up, and started to read random pages,
"Mommy hates daddy. But daddy isn't letting her go. He locked me in a cellar today for hugging mommy. I wanted to play hide and seek with Ben, but he took an axe and stabbed me in the head . . ."
She stopped as she inspected the page. It had drops of scarlet painted on it and the pages old and dirty. She looked up from the book to see Peter's red eyes gone, replaced with his brown.
"St..sta..Stacy. Wh..what...jus...st...happ..ened?" he stuttered, his whole body shaking. Stacy ran up to her brother and cried on his shoulder.
"What happened to your shoulder?" The pain suddenly rushed back to her, and she fell limply into her brother's arms.
"Stacy," she faintly heard someone calling her name. "Stacy, are you awake?"
"Ugh," she groaned opening her eyes. Her eyes fell on her brother, pale and tired.
"Stacy! Stacy! Stacy! You're alive!" Peter screamed joyfully, throwing himself on top of his sister.
"Why wouldn't I be. I ain't letting some ghost kill us. Or kid for that matter." She said strongly, slowly sitting herself upright. She looked around, getting used to her surroundings. White walls. White bed. She felt like she was in a mental asylum. She looked over to her shoulder and saw a white bandage plastered over it. She shuddered at the memory, wanting to forget.
"Guess what, Stacy?"
"What?" she smiled weakly, happiness flowing through her.
"Abigail had dug up that grave in the garden!"
"Really?" she inquired, thinking about the un-dug grave. In fact, she wondered why she didn't care in the first place. But then again, she was about to get murdered. She shouldn't sweat the small stuff.
"Yah! Also, I made a new friend!"
"What's his name?" She asked happily, feeling more relaxed by the second.
"Ben!"
"No," she whispered, terror striking her body.
"Let's play!"
***