Lore/Story A Bad Horror Story I Made.

This is from like, 2017? And I made it in 3 hours for my literature class.
Anyways, I decided to share it with people, because my friend told me I should.
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Spoiler: My Bad Story.

It's staring into you; it's looking at you.


Darkness, with a slit of dim light down the center as your eyes unwillingly open, the familiar feelings of restlessness remain underneath your bags. The pseudoscience that is dreams slowly fading away, nothing more than a memory; perhaps it's best you don't remember them, after all, what horrors real knowledge can bring. All of this comes with the slow realization that you are not where you fell asleep; how did you get here? A stone cell in what seems to be some religious foundation, like a church or temple. Why are you here? You attempt to remove your body from the chair that you have been sleeping on; however, your arms are tied to the side of the chair and your legs to its own. A great panic enters your mind as questions begin burning like wildfire, searching for the truth, a whirlwind devours your thoughts. All that matters right now is questions, answers, to your issue. You begin yelling at the top of your lungs, slowly running out of breath as you allow all of it to escape. You re-inflate your lungs to start again when a man walks up to the cage that imprisons you.


Even if you don't see it, it recognizes you; but does it care?


Your eyes being held open, the needle slowly moves closer, and closer to them. As the needle begins to enter your cornea, you start to question why this is happening to you, why did you wake up in this cell, what kind of god would allow this to happen. You beg for help, for forgiveness from this god; none comes. Your only hope is failing; questions begin to flow again as the needle starts to cut downwards at the thin layer of material that covers your pupil. Tears start to flow overwhelmingly and make there way into the cut of your eyeball, burning, the salt of the tears sets aflame the pain that was already horrible. Do you feel it? 'Please God, help me.' Helpless, unable to fight back at all, your determination and struggle still failing to produce results. Do you feel it? Hopelessness.


Uncaring, yet it watches? What is it?


Pain and slow, foggy blindness in your left eye. What the hell did you do to deserve this? In the middle of your unclear and hazed thoughts the man returned; this time holding wood with metal organs, a spring down the center and rusted iron wire down the rear frame of the device. Your fingertip being forced into the metal mouth of the machine, its teeth pressing down upon your nail and its grip forcibly pulling and stretching your nail off of its bed. Slowly, slowly, your skin begins to tear at the sims, stretching and ripping apart. Slowly your nail bed is revealed, raw, pink, and bloody as hell. The air touching your bare skin causes a burning pain as severe as the one before. Do you feel it? Do you? Your nail, it's being ripped off.


God? No, what?


The back of your throat gleaming for air, a dry mouth as you take in extremely slow, and deep breaths. Your eye's still watering from the pain of this torture, but it seems the worst of it is over now. Well, you hoped so anyway. Unstrapping your hands and legs from the chair, you are free to roam around for a little. In the corner of your eye, you notice what seems like an altar in the center of the room. Some horrible stone-carved beast laying upon it; it was something out of nightmares only madmen have, something so horribly rendered, its existence seemed to reject reality.


In the face of this, what am I but an ant?


Your head is forced down on the cement floor before the altar. Everyone around you is wearing the same clothes as the man who tortured you wore. One began walking towards the shrine, his right hand over his left, both hovering over his heart. At last, he reached the stone monastery when some ritualistic chant began. It came out of there mouths like some made-up language of a horror book, yet it rang in your ears like a loud bell inside of them. Great racketing sound, pounding heavily like the waves on a shore, so blisteringly bloody bold. Your ears begin bleeding from there very core. Suddenly the tone and atmosphere in the room changed. Silence, maybe it was because both eardrums busted? It may have seemed like a likely answer, but more so one is they just stopped chanting as something else changed as well. A presence, a strong, strange one, something what? What? A sound, a sound so ruff and physical that it almost feels like… A tongue? The tongue entered your ear diversely exploring the inner workings of the busted eardrum.

Slowly the long almost tentacle-like muscle worked its way into the back of your throat, peeking out your mouth like a curious animal. Jetting down your throat and into the spinal cord, you can feel like grip down upon your spin. Cold, like stone, infestive like a parasite sucking your life force. Please, make it stop. Please dear god. You rot in tonic outrage as the insanity began to take in. What in the fucking gods name. Your hand reached the top of your head, grabbing your hair you begin to string it out. Infestive, infestive, infestive, end, please end. You scream out in horror, your hair painfully calling, as your scalp begins being pulled out by the ass load. Inessive, it calls out and drives you. Your hearing, make it stop. A finger, just one, you plunge it deep down into your ear where the infestive sound started and started yourself as you dig as deep as it did. In bloody God's name, please stop. Scratching the skin off the top of your auditory canal into scabs to make the seemingly endless sound stop. Pop! The sound stopped in one ear, and with the same event happening in the other, it soon pops as well. It, however, was not limited to the sense of hearing. Your eyes demand a purging of their scenes. A small rock was laying next to your right hand. Picking it up you shove it into your eye socket, bursting your right eye into bits, like the debris of an atomic explosion. It isn't enough; your sanity still slowly fading. Though your other eye is more than likely permanently damaged from the torture beforehand, the bits of light fluttering in is still too much. Lifting the rock, you work to make the other eye disappear. This god, this thing, is still far too much for any human mind to handle. It's not even in the room, yet your mind is still slowly decaying into shards of its former self just by them praying to it. Lifting the rock once more, you begin to bash it into your skull; death is the only way to make the collapse of your mental state stop.

 

Wow, this is awesome!! I love your style, it's so evocative, it really works well in horror such as this :) I hope you've continued writing!

 

Thanks, but I dislike it XD

 

You gotta be more confident! :P Even with old stuff I don't like, I still try to be proud of it. As long as you tried your hardest! Often your work looks worse to you than to others reading it, because you've spent so much time with it.