The Locked Doors – Continued

Sam frequently finds different doors in his house locked from the inside, without any reason. When the mystery unfolds, will Sam be able to take all that? Read on to find out.

Previous post:

https://justhokumhere.wordpress.com/2017/12/28/the-locked-doors/

He was running through the forest, veering and dodging the dense branches and trunks on his way. It was moonlit midnight. He looked back and saw the lights getting closer behind him. He must run faster, he must not get caught, they will come for him… he thought.

He got hit by an approaching branch and he lay flat on the ground, hearing the footsteps getting closer. Darkness slowly covered his vision.

A distant screech disturbed him and he opened his eyes. He stood up and jumped a few steps back in terror. He was standing on the edge of a mountain cliff. A step ahead and he would’ve fallen into a steep gorge. ‘How did I get here!’ he thought. He felt dizzy due to all this confusion.

He turned around and found himself falling towards the ground. The clouds were quickly rushing past him. He shouted for help and it all turned into darkness. He was flying into nothingness. He moved and felt nothing. He extended his arms, but reached on to nothing. Suddenly, a hand pulled him, a very warm and tight grip…

He woke up, panting and sweating. His head was pounding as if he was hit with something heavy, yet when he examined his head, there was no sign of any head injury or concussion. He dragged himself out of his bed and looked at the clock. It was Monday morning, December 18th.

He stressed his memory and could only remember his last day at work, Friday it was, a hard day, he had failed in a presentation, and Jenny had rejected… Wait! Slept for straight two days!

He walked, stumbled towards his bathroom. He grabbed the lock, and a sudden pain started to torture his head. He shouted and the pain disappeared. May be he fell sick or something, he thought, and went in for a hot shower.

He closed his eyes and took deep breaths to relax. A series of images flashed before him. His birthday party, his family, his dad’s retirement party, an evening when his mother was caressing his head while he was sleeping in her lap, his girlfriend, their first kiss, her body, their breakup, a weird set of eyes… He opened his eyes. Those eyes, those green big Bright eyes, were haunting.

A week had passed since his last two days straight nap. And he still couldn’t remember anything that would explain his stretched slumber.

On the weekend, his house broker visited him. A locksmith accompanied him and he inquired about broken locks in the house. A sudden burst of memories filled his head. Ache after ache, his pounding head started filling the gaps in his memory. He now remembered his last week and his struggle with the locks in the house. He remembered how things got out of his hands and he was forced to put hindrances all around the house to stop the doors from locking themselves. He remembered the Friday night, and the next morning, the mess spread in the house and those set of eyes. Those quirky, big, bright green eyes, staring right into his eyes, before he had been knocked out.

The internet flooded him with information, pages after pages, about hallucinations, schizophrenia, occipital, split personalities and all weird sorts of brain damage he might have. After the locks were cleared by locksmith’s examination and there was nothing that explained his recent experiences and those broken memories, those green eyes; the only sane explanation was that something was wrong with him. Probably he was taking too much tension of his work, his life; probably he was drinking too much, or may be he should stop taking those sleeping pills with his dinner as a dessert.

There were many explanations for his frenzy but not one that was convincing. He felt mad from inside but not at his fault. His mind wasn’t accepting this theory and constantly pointed towards some external angle, some external force who messed up with his head.

He pushed the front door of his house from outside, but didn’t go inside. He stayed out for a while, expecting something to happen. Nothing did. He walked in and locked the door, while slowly scanning the darkness inside the house. He stretched his hand to switch on the light but hesitated for what he might see.

Snap.

The lights filled the room and darkness vanished into the light, rather slowly than he could scientifically expect. He walked towards his room. The door was closed. He saw the knob, will it be locked, he thought. What might be waiting for him inside the room. What if that thing attacks him? He felt the cold knob in his hands for a while, took a deep breath and pressed the knob. It didn’t bulge. It was locked from the inside.

His heart beats were raised alarmingly. He was frightened deep down his nerves and sweat dripping from his forehead was blurring his vision. But he didn’t run away. He has to fight his fear. He knew none of this was true. It was all his imagination. The door wasn’t locked actually and he knew it. This will all go away if he fights against his mind’s tricks. He knew this because he had discussed this with his doctor. He just has to try again, press that knob again. This time it will open, he is sure.

Click.

The door unlocked easily as if it wasn’t locked at all. Relief drained out of his body in the form of sweat and he went directly to his bed. Just a few more days now. His strong fight against his imagination and the medication will surely give positive results. He went to sleep almost instantly. The drugs started their work, whatever it was.

Just besides his bedside table, the curtains were swayed back and forth by the wind coming from the open window. Nothing was visible outside the window or inside the room. The opposite apartment’s lights went on and a dark shadow appeared behind the curtains. It was half the height of Sam, and a little wider. The curtains took yet another flight and Sam could have seen the Green, round eyes if he had been awake.

The lights went off in the opposite apartment and the windows of Sam’s room closed themselves with a thud. The hatch locked itself and the green eyes disappeared behind the curtains, while the darkness took over in the room. The eyes were happy that Sam was slowly forgetting his memory of the Saturday morning. Soon they will be irretrievable. And soon this mess will be fixed. Just a little more wait…

… …

To be continued…

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Good Night

A story of a man staying as a paying guest with one family and the series of unfortunate events that turn out to be direful.

A

bus came rushing towards the withered bus stand and stopped with a jerk. After years, someone was climbing down at the station Bholgadh, a place one can not even find on any map. Mehaar climbed down the bus with his two big trunks. There were no seats at the bus stand, just a wall with cracks spread all over it like a wallpaper, and a shade over it, which no longer gave any shade due to its broken shape.

Mehaar was broke and had finally accepted his friend’s offer of staying at his place for some time till he gets back on track. So, he waited at that desolated place, away from the city, for his friend to come pick him up.

A rusty car came rushing out of the woods, and came to a halt, making a thud by slightly hitting the road sign-board. Mehaar greeted his friend, Kiaan, and got in to the car. The car moved along the narrow dirt track while wobbling along the bumps and potholes on the road, which kept Mehaar holding on to the dashboard. Mehaar looked sideways with dubiety on his face, to which Kiaan replied with a laughter. The bumpy ride gave them enough time to recall their past memories and laugh at them.

Kiaan’s house was a century old mansion, two-storeyed, damaged, but with a grand appearance. The front yard was filled with mud and dirt due to last night’s rain. There was no other building nearby the house. It was surrounded by tall trees, which had grown in a slipshod fashion. One could not extend the gaze past a few meters as the trees blocked the sight.

The car slipped a few meters in the mud before coming to a halt. Kiaan got down energetically, while Mehaar was cautious about his shoes and the mud. Kiaan got Mehaar’s luggage out of the car and welcomed him to see his family.

Kiaan’s mother greeted them as they entered the house. She was an old lady, who loved to read all day while sitting in her rocking chair. Kiaan’s wife, Sana, came out of her room and was disturbed to see Mehaar in her house. But she didn’t show her agitation and welcomed Mehaar to their house nonetheless. But she must talk about this with Kiaan afterwards, she thought.

Mehaar entered the house, looking in every direction, as if searching for someone. The house was as grand on the inside as was from the ourside. The entrance hall was huge and led way to the staircase going to the top floor, lined with several bedrooms and guest rooms. From the hall, separate corners led to the kitchen, the dining area and the backyard. Only dining area was within one’s visibility from the stairs.

Kiaan showed Mehaar to his room and left Mehaar to take some rest. All the while, Mehaar was thinking about whether it was a right decision to come to his friend’s house; after what had happened the last time he was here…

Sana was worried about Mehaar staying with them as she always found Mehaar eerie. She placed her clothes in the wrong direction while arranging her drawer, and should have gotten very upset about it. She had places and directions for all of her things and wanted them to be exactly the same. But this time, there were more pressing issues in her mind.

Kiaan lifted her from the behind and gave her his kind of romantic spin. She screamed in shock, which gave him a self-assuring pleasure. Kiaan threw her on bed and started unbuttoning her shirt, while slowly kissing her. Sana tried to take control of the situation, but Kiaan’s love was deluging her. Kiaan had just reached under her bra, when she got up with a serious face.

Sana shared her fears to Kiaan, who was listening to her quite keenly after being dropped from the action. Kiaan explained to her that he wished to help his friend in his difficult times. And he assured Sana that nothing could possibly go wrong.

Kiaan’s assurance was not assuring enough for Sana, as he didn’t know about the last time… They lapsed back to loving each other, but she anyway was not going to catch a wink that night.

The night was shiny; the stars twinkled more compared to the city nights. It reminded Mehaar of something from the past. He jerked his head to let go of those thoughts and started unpacking his trunks.

While Mehaar was busy, the door to his room opened slowly. Mehaar was unaware of this and was lost in his thoughts. Someone came in, closing the door behind. Those arms started making way towards Mehaar, ready to take the better of him. Mehaar, suspicious, turned in instinct, and grabbed those arms. But soon was balled over to find out who it was.

The past that he had moved on from, the memories that he had buried; it all came up again right in front of him.

To be continued…

That Time of the Night

The clock is alleged to move swiftly at night. But at that peculiar hour, at that time of the night, it stopped..

… …

Warning: This post contains sickening and vomitous material. This post should be read only if you are 18+ and have an appetite for vile horror stories.

In the peaceful bliss of the winter night, when the breeze fleeted sneakily in the dark chilled air, his snores were the only disturbance in the otherwise solemn environment.

Jack had fallen asleep as soon as he lied on his favorite bed after a long, tiring week. He had been out roaming different cities and places since a month now, adverting his new idea, and seeking investors. But he hadn’t been in luck so far. His last visit to a desolated area outside the big city of Gregstone was … eerie.

The place was nothing like he had seen before. There were old, dirt-filled houses with broken windows and extended yards in the front, all houses in one single row. And opposite to the lane of these houses, across the road, were three stores for necessary items, two of which were degraded and closed. And that was it. That was all of the town. (Can’t even call it a town, can we?)

But one of those houses was in perfectly good condition. The lawn was evenly mowed, windows were clean and curtains stretched, and the gate had a big, steel name-plate, reading “Raecherr House”. The owner had personally invited Jack to come present him his idea. And so Jack had been there for this whole week, trying to convince the man about his idea. The deal didn’t go so well he thought, as the man hadn’t given a final answer. So, Jack was holding on to that last bit of hope.

He couldn’t remember much from his visit to that place, but only glimpses and pieces. But he could never forget that man, and his scarred face. The scar went down from his left eye all the way to his neck. Jack had been too frightened about his project that he never brought this topic to discussion about how the man got the scar.

Jack was watching a nightmare. It was about the man, his scar, the man hitting Jack hard on his head, then tying him up to the doctor’s table and putting various scars on Jack’s naked body, scars similar to that the man had on his face, and then finally pushing the sharp knife down on his heart with both his hands’ might… He woke up with a big cry and he felt a staggering, but slowly disappearing, pain in his chest. He held his heart with his hand and felt the racing heartbeats, pounding against his ribs.

He got up and moved towards the Kitchen to drink some water. He washed his face and moved back to his bedroom. His body ached and he felt a dire need to fall asleep again, but there on his bed… in the same clothes that he was wearing, looking just like him, it was him… He saw himself sleeping on the bed at that time. He rubbed his eyes, as if wanting that image to be erased from his mind and in reality also, but it didn’t. As soon as he opened his eyes, there it was… Himself right in front of him.

He looked around the house. It was normal. It wasn’t a dream, that was for sure. But then, what was it? How can he see himself sleeping in front of him?

At the bedside table, the clock had stopped exactly at 3:07 AM with the second’s hand quivering and juddering, back and forth. He felt lightheaded and weak, and his legs seemed to give away. He fell, the room spinning in his eyes, his vision turned blurry and he passed out.

His head was throbbing. He felt a sharp pain on the front of his head. He had fallen on his forehead last night. He woke up to see the bright sunlight, filtering inside from the tinged blue window glasses. He immediately got up and saw the bed. It was empty. He exhaled a big breath of relief. All that he saw in the night was probably just a bad dream.

He turned to go to the bathroom, when the door to the bathroom opened and he came out of the bathroom in towel, all cheered up and excited.

Jack immediately moved out of the way of the other Jack. The other Jack couldn’t see him probably, as he just went past him without giving out any bewildered expressions as he was giving out that time.

The other Jack went on to get ready. He pulled out a bag from below the bed and started loading it with different pairs. He was packing as if he had to go somewhere, probably for more than a few days.

Jack was totally lost. He didn’t know how to react, what to do or whether to do anything at all in the first place. He shouted to see if the other Jack could here him out. He couldn’t. The other Jack was busy packing and seemed excited. He then brought out a file and put that in the bag too. On this side, Jack knew exactly what that file was. It was the file he had prepared for presenting his idea to that man in that odd town. But he had already been there. Now he remembered, this all had already happened. And he was watching the whole episode again!

He hesitated a little, and then gathered all his might, and went on to see if he could touch him. But as soon as he touched him, he felt a sharp pain in his head and he fell on the ground. Darkness started to spread before his vision, slowly it all disappeared.

When he woke up, he was in the basement of a house he didn’t know. He walked around the basement. There was no blub or any source of man-made light. Only a tiny crevice on the outer wall brought some daylight into the basement. His leg hit a large table in the almost darkness. He strained his eyes to see what it was. It was a body of a man lying before him.

He gasped and fell back, while tripping on some equipments scattered on the floor. He fell on his behind and got himself hurt a little. But that didn’t matter to him. What took all his interest, or all his fright, was the man lying on the table.

The door to the basement hurled open. A shadow of the man was visible, and it grew into a more humanly form as the man climbed down the stairs and let the light spread evenly in the basement. Jack saw him and instantly felt a sense of danger. It was that Raecherr man again. He moved towards the table while Jack sat on the floor, stunned, watching the man. The man lifted the damp cloth covering the body and Jack saw to his bewilderment that it was his body, all tied up in tapes and plastic. The man opened the tape covering Jack’s body’s face and Jack screamed loudly that his scream continued to ring in that basement even after he had stopped, or was stopped by the man’s knife against his cheek.

The man forced a piece of white cloth into the mouth of Jack and started removing skin from his face. It left several, dirty scars on his face. On the other side, Jack got up to see his full body and saw that some parts of his body – a part of his hand, a portion on his left thigh and some flesh from his shoulder were removed. The wounds were all cleaned clumsily, he could see, but were not bandaged. He felt disgusted! Who keeps the wounds open like that. But he knew what was happening to him on that table. He was gonna die. The man was gonna cut him into pieces for his dark experiments and he could do nothing.

When the man finally popped out the right eye of Jack on the table, it slipped from his hand and rolled, bouncing like a tomato, spitting some liquid on to the floor and came wheeling towards Jack’s feet on the other side. The man turned from the table and looked at the eye at the feet of Jack. He came towards it, took it from the ground and pierced his sharp knife into the eye, popping it open directly from the cornea. Pulpy stuff came out of the eye and some of it splattered on the face of Jack. The man couldn’t see him and he felt like vomiting. His head began to spin and he fell on the ground, his mouth on the splattered pulp of his eye on the floor.

He woke up again but didn’t open his eyes. He knew what was happening to him now. He understood why these images were visible to him. The man had killed him. And now, somehow, he went back in time when he was leaving from his house for his trip to the house of that man. He couldn’t stop him at that time. He understood that the dream he saw on the first time, where the man had thrust a knife in his heart. It wasn’t a dream, but a memory from his visit.

His incision and images of him being operated by the man, his eye, they weren’t all bad dreams. They were his memories from the time he was alive. Those images just came to him to remind him how he died. And that was why he saw himself in third person.

He thought of opening his eyes, but then feared what he might see next. He wasn’t strong enough to see any of his butchery. And yet, he knew he was being slaughter, slowly, painfully. He repelled at the idea of it. All the images of that massacre in the basement started filling up his mind. He could see the limbs scattered on the floor in blood, his parts cut and forged into something loathsome. And his mutilated, dismembered body on that table, lying in the open. Flies and insects having a feast at his flesh. That rotting smell and the yucky, disgusting pulpy substance spread everywhere on the floor.

He stood up shouting on his bed. He had wetted his bed and was soaked in his sudor. He wiped his face off the sweat and took several deep breaths, and could only lower his dread by a negligible bit. He saw around the room. It was a shabby bedroom, which had not been used since a long time. The curtains were dusty, and were withdrawn out. The fan was noisy and the furniture was the only good thing in the whole room. It might have been recently replaced. There were traces of hauling on the floor. And the wall were painted with a cheap brand. He saw the bedside table. His phone and wallet were there. He saw his luggage stacked in the far corner of the room near the cupboard. And the wall clock ticked loudly, showing current time as 3:06, oh 3:07.

Just when he wondered whether all he saw was a disgusting dream or what, a shadow appeared outside his door. It moved back and forth, and then stopped right outside his door. There was a sound of something being dragged, some metal, something heavy. The door knob turned and clicked, and the door opened slowly. It was the Raecherr man. He was holding a heavy wrench. He came into the light of the moon and Jack could see the horror on his scarred face…