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#Post#: 329--------------------------------------------------
[Short Story] The Cellar
By: Kito Domi Date: October 20, 2011, 7:44 pm
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I wrote about a year ago. I do have a copyright on it. However,
if you'd like to use it for something, please let me know. And I
know it's worded very awkwardly. I was very bored in Comm Apps,
gimme a break.
~
It was raining that day. Dreary cacades of torrential water
thundered over the house. Going outside to do something would be
impossible. My parents and my siblings were off at some dinner,
a party in which I chose not to attend, yet I lamented the fact
now that there was nothing I could do while awaiting their
return. For some very long minutes, I thought of what I could do
to pass the time. I went into my siblings room, one after the
other, in a vain attampt to ruffle through their things and
perhaps find something to occupy myself. My searches were
fruitless. I then went into my parents room, but my search was
as before. However, in looking in their closet for a brief
moment, I saw a small door, one about 3 feet high. One a child
might have to a playhouse in the yard. Intrigued, I set off to
find a key to fit the lock. I went through the entire house.
Nothing like such a key could be found. After about 20 minutes
of searching, I came across a hidden panel in my parent’s
wardrobe. Feeling sucsessful, I pulled it out and saw a key. It
looked very old fashioned, the kind used in old, broken down,
macabre houses.
Delighted with my find, I went back into the small room, and put
the key into the lock and turned the handle. The door was almost
stuck, but when I finally opened it, a disgusting odour hit my
nose and filled my throat. It smelled of wet dirt and rotting
fruit. But being the person I am, this scent only furthered my
curiosity. The space beyond was completely pitch black, like
granite with no light to reflect. I walked back to my room and
picked upa flashlight, and went back into the space behind the
door. I saw steps beneath me. I shuddered and walked down them.
At the bottom of the steps was the most horrific sight. It
seemed to be a child’s playroom. I could see broken down, faded
toys. The toys looked themselves to be corpses. Molded blocks
stood in one corner, a rocking horse with no sring leaned up
against the wall. I had to repress a shudder. Why were these
things here? It did not look like storage. There was dilapidated
wallpaper, fading and curling from the edges across the room. I
saw a bare archway at the end of the small room. It led into
what might be seen as a bedroom. My eyes started on the floor.
Blackened wood that seemed to bleed under my footsteps. My eyes
traveled across. A small chest, a threadbare rug, a bed that
seemed too fragil to hold a doll, let alone a person. But when I
turned my head towards the chair against a desk, I screamed for
the life of me. I screamed like I was on the verge of death. For
that was what I saw.
A broken body, rotting in the chair. It seemed to be a child’s
body, but some of the figures were distorted. The head seemed to
be unnatural on one side, one leg was shotrer than the other.
The body of a freak. Yet, the normal features seemed so similar
to my own. What was left of the hair had the same shade as my
own, and the jawbone had the strong set as mine did. I was
absolutetly horrified. I retched. I could not stand the sight of
it. I ran from the meager bedroom, into the child’s playroom,
which I now believed to be that disfigured child’s playroom. I
was in panic. Running up the stairs was not even feasable to my
scarred mind. All that filled my thoughts was the image of the
dead child, sitting at the little desk. Questions raced through
my mind. Whether she was imprisoned here, by whom, and why the
hell she looked so much like me. I heard footsteps above me. My
parents and siblings were home. I calmed my nerves and started
heading up the small stairs. I was almost at the top, and could
see the light from the closet, when a figure blocked the door.
It was my mother. I sighed out of relief, yet, she started
walking down towards me. She started shaking her head. She tsked
at me and told me I was a naughty girl, very bad for snooping
and meddling into things. She kept walking towards me, and I
started backing down the stairs. My mother was starting to scare
me. We got to the bottom of the stairs as I had done what seemed
so long ago. My mother kept shaking her head, and muttering. She
told me she was very dissapointed, that she thought I was a nice
girl who does not meddle in things. I began to whimper, to tell
my mother she was scaring me. She kept talking. She told me that
no one was supposed to know. No one was ever supposed to find
out. No one could know that she had a freak child. One that she
locked up, barely keeping it alive, until it died from the lack
of sunlight, and lonleyness. No one. Not even the rest of her
family. I started yelling. She jumped at me, scratching my
throat. I screamed in agony. My mother yelled back, calling me
all sorts of things, and telling me that I would forever hold
her secret. I never thought she was going to let go of my neck.
When she finally did, I was gasping for air, my only thought was
to get enough air just to live. My mother stood up. She then
told me there was only one way to keep a secret. To never talk
to anyone. She then quickly grabbed the key from where I left
it, went up the steps, and shut the door. Fear rised in my
heart. I think I may have missed a few beats. I ran up the
stairs for all I was worth, but by then she had locked it. I
banged on it and screamed. I felt so trapped. Trapped in that
hell of a child’s prison, the hell beneath the home that I had
come to love, beneath all whom I did love, and now the one who I
had begun to hate, my mother. I hyperventilated. I was trapped
in a underground box with nothing but a rotting corpse for
company. I started crying, rocking my body back and forth.
Claustrophbia racked my body. I don’t know how long I stayed
like that. I screamed until I lost my voice, and I banged at the
door until my fists were raw and bleeding. Nothing happened.
Surely this was all a mistake, a horrible dream, was it not?
Hours, it seemed, trapped in the grave I was kept in. I paced
the child’s room, not daring to go into the bedroom. The smell
filled my soul.
For days. No food. No water. I became less than alive. A
nothing. A ghost haunting that eternal place. I knew I was going
to die. Nothing had changed. I could not even tell if time had
gone by. I finally went into the bedroom. The corpse was still
there. Fear did not fill me anymore. Merely sadness at the fate
people hand to us. I sympathized for the desicrated creature. I
moved it, even. I cleaned off the desk the best I could. Many
more hours passed. Still, no sunlight to been or hope to be had.
Death came closer. My throat burned with a thirst I never knew.
I was going to die in that place. And for what, curiosity, and a
mother who dared not show shame? But surely there was no shame
within having a child different, was there not? So many
questions ran through my mind while I was kept there. But I knew
exactly when I would die. I could feel it coming. I used the
last of whatever strength I had, and I sat at the small desk.
There was paper, and some ink pens. I began writing. I wrote of
what led me to this fate. What I am sure you are reading right
now. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so alone and disgusted with
myself. But I keep on writing. Time means nothing. I only race
to write this before I die. I feel it coming. It’s too late to
yell, too late to bang on the door. Nothing works. I shall die
at this desk as surely as the previous occupant. I feel it
coming. For what is this life for? Why am I damned to this hell.
Death waits, nor gives pity to anyone. I will wait for my mother
in hell. Death is coming. Death waits for no one.
A lot of our literature has to do with death and pain. ._." I
need to start writing happy things. Gimme a couple days and I'll
post my parody lyrics "Taco Dream".
Fixed double post ~Sainsbo
#Post#: 332--------------------------------------------------
Re: [Short Story] The Cellar
By: Veranex Date: October 20, 2011, 8:03 pm
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Very creepy Kit. But very well written =3 And I liked it as
well. Keep up the great work =D
#Post#: 795--------------------------------------------------
Re: [Short Story] The Cellar
By: MegaMage Date: November 11, 2011, 7:34 am
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Great story Kit, very intriguing but I do agree it was a bit
strangely worded at times. Anyway, keep it up! :)
#Post#: 876--------------------------------------------------
Re: [Short Story] The Cellar
By: Deviance Date: November 20, 2011, 9:08 am
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Great...creepy...revolting...scary...story...*nervous laugh* I
am sure to never snoop again....
Seriouls, nice job...OF FREAKING ME OUT...jk, great story
#Post#: 909--------------------------------------------------
Re: [Short Story] The Cellar
By: Zane Date: November 23, 2011, 4:18 pm
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My god. No food or water for days.
:-[
#Post#: 1655--------------------------------------------------
Re: [Short Story] The Cellar
By: Lady Greydawn Date: March 18, 2012, 6:53 am
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[font=georgia]Ok... that was very creepy and had me on the edge
of my seat while reading it. It was well written, but as you
said, seemed a bit disjointed. If you would like, after the war
is finished, I could edit it for you. I think you could probably
get that published in some kind of magazine that does short
horror stories. ;D[/font]
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