Never Rest

This is my first real attempt at a horror story. I'm hoping you all like it. Some parts may confuse you a bit but with a short story you must pay attention to detail. I'm hoping I did justice to the art of short story writing..... Enjoy!

-Ria :P

P.S. Douen sounds like Dwen. It's a Trinidadian legend. Look it up if you wish :)

P.P.S. When she's qouting, "Will all Great Neptune's ocean...." that's from Macbeth by William Shakespeare.

I was lying down on a hay cot with a blanket made of polyester covering me in the scant clothing I had been provided long ago. Maybe it has been months, possibly years, I have no recollection of time any longer. I had started ticking off days with a long piece of iron that I had found in the corner the day I’d arrived. I had small marks on the corner of the floor board to mark the time. I stopped after two hundred eighty nine days. The Divinity only knows how long ago that was. I had stopped crying around the same time I lost all hope. My tears had begun to sting like acid and my body had run out of liquid to spill.

I could hear the others breathing through the thin plaster walls and their ragged breath stirred nightmarish thoughts that no person should ever have to endure. I had thought for sure that they would have been dead by now but it was apparent THEY want us all alive.

Two glasses of water per week. Two meals per month. Physical abuse...undetermined amount of times per day. If I had any weapon and means of escape I would have killed the others to put them out of their misery.

“Sick twisted bastards,” I whispered to myself before coughing far too loudly for my liking. I heard a hiss and the wisp of fabric being thrown before the sound of the locks on my cell being dragged open broke the silence. I’m not entirely sure if I shivered in fear or remained stagnant, my body was numb to the core- I couldn’t even feel the cold iron of my shackles.

I saw IT walking towards me with ITS feet turned backwards and ITS head without a face. This one was by far the least disgusting of all of THEM. The OTHERS were like babies and children with pale green wrinkled skin and THEY shed themselves every few hours. It left THEIR skin hanging from THEIR limbs before it deteriorated and the process repeated itself. I’ve known about THEM since birth. My mother would tell me family legends of the beasts before me. She’d tell me of THEIR demonic ways. She’d tell me of THEIR tricks. She would constantly drill into my mind to be cautious and to never answer the call of a stranger. I had always thought it was some religious fallacy. That was until I was captured by IT. The Douen.

I can still remember it. The day I was taken....

Dmitry and I were in the local park, “Shadow Hallow”, and we were tossing a Frisbee and just goofing off. I playfully tossed it against his side and he howled in mock pain.

“I’m dead! I’m dead! I’ve survived but I’m dead!” he quoted from our favorite childhood movie-The Incredibles- as he fell to the ground rolling about in the grass. Although we were both now fourteen we still felt as much the children we were when at six years of age.

“Oh you’re such a ninny Mitry!” I yelled at him from across the field.

“You’re the one afraid of Scrappy Doo! Now who’s the ninny?” Dmitry yelled back at me. My tan skin flushed with anger. The boy had promised to never ever again speak of that incident.