Another little story based around my ongoing and tentatively named Barnbellow's Estate project, because evidently I haven't made Yuna's life miserable enough this samhain season. The title for this one is taken from the Belgian hardcore techno act of the same name, responsible for hits(?) like James Brown is Still Alive! and The Nightmare (of which I've just linked to one of several mixes of for each).
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‘Peace and quiet is a luxury I will never take for granted ever again’, Yuna thought to herself as she collapsed, body heavy, onto the floor of the Hallway she had found herself in. Her head was pounding, synchronised to the scattershot rhythm of her pulse; her chest stung with each heavy, ragged breath, the very act of breathing becoming (sadly necessary torture); her arms and her legs burned and ached, the former due to continually having to hold a camera steady, and the latter due to the insane amount of running she had undertaken over the course of the evening’s events. Exactly how long was that, anyway? Time had since ceased to be something perceivable to her, keeping track of it now entirely secondary to being aware of her surroundings- that the portion of the estate she had found herself in had no outward facing windows only made it harder to discern where she was in time, or space for that matter. She couldn’t even be certain that she was as safe as the deafening silence surrounding her said she was, but it was the only thing she had even a vague sense of confidence in currently.
Or, perhaps she was just that exhausted that she was willing to risk it for some damn rest.
Speaking of, this portion of the estate... she was fairly certain it shouldn’t exist. Architecturally, it wasn’t accounted for on the maps she’d found, the décor was of an older era then that of the prior portions of the building, and perhaps most telling, she entered it via a hole in a wall that had caved in from decay. But then, the parts of the house she did have a floor plan for... seemed very small. At least, when compared to the relative size of the building. There was a huge space in the centre of the estate unaccounted for on the map, and that Yuna had assumed was a huge courtyard initially. Now, she wasn’t so sure; it seemed like there were entirely hidden and built over portions of the building hidden beneath what she now understood was an outer layer.
Before she could hypothetically ask herself how deep the layers would go, her ears tickled as they picked up a very vague sound. She couldn’t really tell what it was but it sounded like... talking?
Almost automatically she pulled herself off the floor, her sore body be damned, heading towards the source of the vague sound. It seemed to come from the other end of the corridor she was sitting in, which she could vaguely make out ended in a door through the darkness. As she approach, she got a better look at the door and took note of it’s grand nature; it appeared to be made of fairly hefty wood, mostly withered away by rot, but set in each half of it where some immaculate stained glass windows- one of which depicted several Christian saints, and the other Jesus’ disciples. Neither age or seclusion had dulled them, it seemed, and that was somehow the most unsettling thing about them. The closer Yuna looked, however, the more she noticed vague, flickering amber lights towards the back of the room the doors lead to.
Curiosity getting the better of her, she gently pushed the doors open, finding them to give very little resistance despite their state of decay. On the other side of the doorway was a room several feet long with a very high ceiling, a row of what looked like bunches flanked by carpeted pathways running both sides of it down the middle. No, wait... not benches. Pews. And off to one side, there were more stained glass windows- it was a little hard to tell, as there appeared to be a wall built directly on the opposite side, but like the ones on the doors they appeared immaculate.
It was a private chapel.
Yuna didn’t have enough time to let the shock of that fact alone hit her, because there were more pressing details she noticed immediately after. For starters, there was the source of the flickers she saw through the door- lit Candelabras, perched on each side of the threadbare alter and just barely illuminating the upper portion of the room. But, perhaps more pressingly, there was a figure knelt in front of said alter.
A distinctly human figure. Murmuring in a hushed tone, as though in prayer. The source of the noise from before.
There was a part of Yuna’s brain that immediately cottoned on to the very immediate danger she was in. Even disregarding her prior run ins with the blade wielding figure from earlier, there is no logical answer to the question “what would a person be doing praying at a long abandoned alter in a bricked up part of an old estate?”. In fact, there was no answer to that question, period; there were only further questions.
That part of Yuna’s brain, however, was frustratingly quiet in its attempts to get here to 180 and cut loose. As a result, it was drowned out by the much louder part practically shrieking ‘what if it’s someone else who got lost in here and needs help? I mean, I came in via a collapsed wall; who’s to say there aren’t other ways in here?’.
Yuna approached, slowly. The rubber sole of her sneakers made quiet rubbing sounds against the carpet, the only outward noise besides the figure’s mumbling. Both sounds managed to completely dominate her eardrums, drowning out her rapidly increasing heartbeat, her already heavy breathing growing heavier, and the incessant screaming of ‘RUN, RUN AWAY, RUN AND DON’T LOOK BACK!’ echoing out from the back of her head.
The murmuring grew louder as she approached. She was sure she could make out words, but they weren’t words she recognised. The scent of Mhyyr and Frankincense gradually began to permeate the thick, stale air the closer she drew.
She was almost within reaching distance. The murmurs were cacophonic.
“H-hello...? Are y-you alright...?”
The prayer stopped. Silence fell.
The figure stood, slowly but evenly.
Dirty, ragged priest garbs hung from it’s frame.
It had no head.
Yuna let out a brief shriek, clumsily staggering backwards and falling onto her backside as the figured turned to ‘face’ her. She looked up in sheer horror at the empty neckline of the upper portion of it’s garb, at the blank space where a face should be. There was no bloody stump indicating a decapitation, nor any traces of blood or plasma on the clothing so far as she could tell.
A new sound had entered her eardrums; bubbling. Like liquid boiling over.
The empty air at the figures neck was filling out with what seemed to be a black mass; wispy, jagged lines not unlike constant pen scribbles expanded into what vaguely resembled the shape of a human skull.
Yuna could hear that voice again; ‘RUN YOU IDIOT, GET UP AND RUN!’. But her body wasn’t responding; she was stuck in place, as though made of stone, completely unable to take her gaze off of what was unfolding in front of her. She couldn’t work out if she was fascinated or scared by it.
Like creatures surfacing from the depths of the sea, two white baubles adorned with thick red streaks broke through the mass and came to rest in the centre of the mass, but not before shifting their position to reveal icy blue circles with pinpricks of black dead in their centres.
Eyes. Staring down at her.
Not unlike the smile of the Cheshire Cat, a row of white, human-like teeth and pale pink gums seemed to unfold into reality, twisted unnaturally into the form of a smile without the aid of lips.
“O-ouuughhhhhhhh...” Yuna groaned, too exhausted to let out a proper scream.
Yeah. Definitely scared.
The figure outstretched one of its arms, bringing the other- which Yuna now noticed was clutching a bible- up to it’s chest, slowly beginning to approach. She could hear it mumbling again, louder then before but no more distinct. It’s teeth did not move.
Yuna began to shuffle backwards, trying several times to regain her footing and pull herself up but failing, slipping against the carpet or not being able to keep a steady grip on the pews to her left.
The figure caught up to her, bending down, it’s arm outstretched. Yuna whimpered, covering her face with her arms and shutting her eyes.
Dear god, the sensation that ran through her arm when the figure’s grasp curled around it. To call it ‘pain’ would be underselling it; it felt like burning, but not like fire nor heat. It seeped through her skin, down passed the muscle, right through the bone and out the other side; before long, it began to spread across her arm in both directions. If Yuna had opened her eyes, she would have noticed the skin gradually growing grey wherever the sensation touched.
However, she was too busy screaming in agony. Crying, more like; she sobbed like a child, momentarily zapped of all strength or will to fight back because of the unbearable pain she was feeling.
The moment stretched into infinity; it not only felt like this would never end, it felt like it had never even started; it simply was. Her entire existence trapped here, in this point in time, her mind besieged by an infinite number of signals from synapses and nerve endings screaming out for respite- the only thing louder then her outward wailing. She knows she begged for mercy, pleaded for the pain to stop, but deeper down she knew they would not be answered. If there was to be any respite, any freedom from this recurrence, she would have to seize it herself.
She violently kicked her legs out, the tremendous force behind it alone bringing time back into motion. She felt her feet connect with the figure’s shins, sending it tumbling next to her and freeing her arm from it’s grasp. The relief was instant- the burning stopped, the greying of her skin ceased and receded, and her senses of sight, sound, and smell grew sharp.
Sharp enough to smell the incense growing stronger.
Sharp enough to hear the creature fall next to her.
Sharp enough to see that awful grin and those soul-shattering eyes glaring at her.
She immediately leapt up, pivoting around and attempting to create some distance between them, but almost immediately after gaining her footing she felt the thing tightly grasp her foot mid-step, causing her to stumble and grab the nearest pew to regain stability. The sensation hit her hard again, and threatened to drag her back into an endless loop of agony, but by now the adrenaline had taken hold in her system and allowed her just enough focus to use her free foot to stomp down hard on the hand, causing it to relinquish its grip; with surprising dexterity and grace, Yuna regained her footing and dashed a small distance before pivoting and turning, drawing her camera from her body-warmer pocket.
Before the figure could even stand up, Yuna let loose a barrage of photos, each one seemingly ripping and tearing the figure’s garb violently and blowing holes through the black mass beneath it. It was overkill, and she knew it, but in the heat of things she didn’t care, and kept snapping photos until the clothes crumpled into a heap on the floor, the mass dissipating.
She panted, still stood in the braced position as she looked down at the space where it had just stood. The brief flash of anger had dissipated, leaving her momentarily numb as her mind raced. If her experiences with the other figure were any indication, her brief offensive would not have put this one down permanently either; she would need to keep track of two entirely different yet equally dangerous creatures going ahead.
Splendid.
***
~ Decon Theed (27/10/18)