Stories I Never Finished

Go Outside

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There was nothing like the chilled embrace of nightfall, an isolation so strong it pours blackness through the walls of solemn homes; entrapping those who linger within four towering structures tied together by a roof whose purpose can only be to hold the sky up.
Twinkling stars shine their death, a moon valiantly casting its gaze across the world as the land becomes more awake and alive than any sunshine day could.

For Calum, night time was a disaster he wished would stop coming.

As he sat on his living room couch, slouched over in a hunch with one elbow on his thigh and a hand to his forehead—propping a heavy skull up while tired eyes remained closed and a cold hand refused to let go of a chilled whiskey glass half empty on the table—Calum couldn't get the whispers to leave his mind.

It was all he could hear, whispering walls and creaking floors; an attic crawling with monsters whose long spindly limbs would skitter across the rickety floorboards late at night.
But... it wasn't the monsters he feared, nor the vicious beings who would wander slowly by his windows—peering deep through hazy glass in the hopes he would leave his curtains open one night. No, the worst of it all was nothing more than a small child.

Their face, so pale and beautiful like a porcelain doll rest upon a fine China plate, would be filled with fright; soft green eyes glistening with terror of the blackened skies were monsters swam like whales in the ocean.
Long blond hair would flow past her shoulders like vines falling upon a wire fence, and her dress would glow a shade of ghostly white.

She was a gentle soul, his daughter, his family, his only reason to stay within the wicked old house on a quiet suburban street, and as he lifted his glass to his lips he could hear her quiet footsteps shuffle down the hallway toward his waiting figure in the only alive room.

"Daddy...?" Her voice was shy, scared to impede on Calum's existence as she hovered by the doorway; shadows dancing behind her.

Calum sighed, a heavy weighted sound, as he pushed brown curls from his face and sat up slightly; enough to tilt his head back and down the remaining burn of liquor he had.

"...the monster's in my room again."

Glass thudded against the wooden coffee table, set back down empty as Calum took a moment to compose himself. He refused to glance toward his child, having made such a mistake before—he wouldn't do it again.

"Go to sleep, Ana." He stared at the blank television screen set in the wall, seeing nothing but his blurred reflection shinning back through the darkness.

"But the monster-?"

"Isn't real." He interjected, cutting the young child off before she could continue.

There was nothing more, silence filled the house—only the odd creak of wind or rustle of trees could be heard as Ana disappeared to her room once more; abandoning Calum who finally felt free to breathe once more.

The monster was real. It had been real, vicious, cruel, unholy and inhuman. And it was his fault.

Ana didn't deserve the evil of their wicked house, but now Calum couldn't build enough strength to leave. He could barely leave its wooden enclosure, trapped within walls that would ooze black at midnight.

Sometimes he would open the front door, greeted by two specific police officers who would be concerned for his well-being; assigned to him as though he had become some kind of damaged puppet to master.

Every time it would be the same, mumbled mutterings joined by slow nods of his head, and they could do nothing but accept it; unable to step foot into his home, unable to help.

"Life would be easier if you just went outside..."

A whispered voice, unrecognisable yet familiar, echoed through his mind.

"Take a step outside, Calum... the night can be soothing if you let it hold you in her arms."

Calum rose from his couch, giving the voice nothing in return as he picked up his glass and headed for the kitchen; bare feet trudging along cold wooden floorboards until they reached ancient soft blue tiles.

He flicked the light switch on before stepping into the simplistic kitchen of wood and metal. His heart stopped in his chest, his body frozen in time as his eyes dared to snap toward the open curtains of his kitchen window.

Darkness flowed through its glassy portal, a lifeless stare reflecting back at him, and for a moment he almost feared he was standing outside looking in.
He forgot to close the curtains... how could he have forgotten?

The house roared a silence so profound he felt it riddle his body with untamed anxiety, and yet even as cold blue eyes began to fade out from the darkness—staring at him with a slither of res pulsating like aching veins through them—he couldn't bring himself to move. It felt too late, too long he had waited to close the stained yellow curtains, and now he could do nothing more than stare at the ungodly creature standing on the opposite side.

Only glass, so finite and fragile, separated him from the demonic world beyond it. Something shattered, cutting across his foot with bloodied angst, but he couldn't move; stunned into gazing at the lifeless being gradually becoming more and more visible the longer he stared.

It's skin was pale white upon its feminine figure, peeling as though she had crawled from the depths of a rotting ocean and found herself wandering across the earthy land in search of her own soul. Her white hair was matted, seaweed woven through it in colours of moss and black, and her clothing—tattered in shades of brown and white—stuck to her body in dripping water; soaked into squishy flesh textured like the body of a dead squid.

"Go outside..."

Calum rushed forward, his bare feet crushing down upon shards of painful glass, and lunged for the curtains; snapping them shut with a gasp of terrified air. His eyes were peeled wide open, petrified as he stood bleeding and clutching his curtains with white knuckles; too scared to step away in fear the curtains would fly open again.

The night was cruel, riddled with beasts from other worlds Calum longed to never gaze upon again.
His eyes were like portals seeing into unearthly plains no one else could, and he wished he could gouge them out with his bare hands and never see again.