Hamilton Oneshots W/ OCs (Fluff, Angst)

October Special Series Part 3: Fear

This is a short story that I did for a class assignment of mine, but I edited it to make it longer. There was a word limit, but I don't have to stick to it now! So enjoy this piece. It's supposed to make you scared, so I guess that's the warning.

Warnings: it's creepy. Other than that, none.

He walked through the never-ending halls, determined. His footsteps echoed on the linoleum floor, out of place in the terror-inducing silence of the place. He was scared, yes, very much so, but there was nothing he could do about it except to go on. He wanted so badly for this to be a dream, for this to not be happening, for there to be some way out. But no. He couldn't stop, couldn't turn back, not when so much depended on this. Not when so many others had died, taken by the lurkers of these fluorescent-lit halls.

He continued on, against every single one of his instincts, wary. His every second was consumed by fear of his fate, and yet he was hopeful, even sure, that he would not taken by the lurkers, those gruesome, flesh-tearing creatures who stalked the halls in their silent Converse shoes, invisible to everyone but themselves. No. He was stronger than past explorers. He was better. He could make it. He was going to make it. He'd made it past the rest. He could make it.

He jumped. He heard something. A noise. He glanced about, even though if there was anything creeping, he wouldn't see it. He continued, realizing as he did so that it was just another trick: his sneakers squeaked on the floor as he walked. But even that could be a trap. It was all but impossible to survive these twisting halls. But he would. He was approaching the place where the Thing stood. It was surrounded by lush grass and stood under a beautifully designed gazebo. How interesting, he thought. Such beauty in the middle of madness and horror. Before he reached it, however, there was one final test. Something that would destroy him more than anything. He saw it ahead. It slowly swiveled around.

A mirror. That was all. He stepped forward, the pervasive darkness stopping him from seeing his reflection. A light clicked on somewhere further down the hall. He didn't dare look. Then one clicked on overhead. The fact that his eyes were fixated on the mirror made it all the worse. 

His skin had turned a pale blue, and his skin was shredded, blood pouring over it from wounds that he hadn't noticed had been made. There was nothing he could do except stand there in his own blood. He looked...worse than bad. Where to start? His eyes, perhaps. They had sunk into his face, but grown at the same time, giving him the look of a light blue skull, if the skull was leaking pus onto the space where his cheeks had been-now, there was nothing but bone. His hair was shrinking into his skull. But as he watched, it shot out again, giving him the eerie look of someone who was in a video that was going forwards, then backwards, then forwards. He forced himself to tear his eyes away from his haunted face. All was not lost, if he could only get to the Thing. He looked down- and noticed his sneakers. He studied them closely, trying to take his mind off everything. Then he saw the label. It said "Converse". He screamed, the sound echoing. He no longer cared.

He continued on towards the dais. There was still hope. If he could touch the Thing-he was nearly there- the Thing flickered and disappeared. It was over. He was to be eternally tortured by these haunting halls. His pulse raced. His eyes widened. He began to hyperventilate. No. No. No. 

And that sequence haunted him forever.

He failed, like all others. But that's the distant past. No one invisible roams the halls now-we don't need any physical threats. They are free to roam and take. Of course you can't see them. Could he, as they tore him apart? How do you know they're not taking you now?

What did you think? I've never been the best at this stuff, but I think this was pretty good. Are you creeped out? 

~M