“It’s raining, it pouring the old man is snoring…”
In typical creepy fashion, the song melted into a fit of disjointed giggles. Macy’s little feet felt as if they were pulled by some invisible force beyond the veil of blue hues.
She continued over the strange tiling, following what had become a never-ending twist of hallways. Each turn bringing with it, just enough doorways to leave her second-guessing the choice to stay in the way she’d started down in the first place.
Was that what they’d expected? Whoever had brought her into this? Would that foreseen decision be punishable? Will it be what gets her killed, or caught, or…
Macy shook the thoughts away, collecting the sound mind they’d started to scatter wasn’t as easy this time. There were holes in her defenses as the unknowns continued adding up the further she went.
What horror might be waiting around the next corner…
It’s one thing, to see something happen and know it’s… made up, no one was hurt… and a whole other bag of cookies to be the crumb being collected by the cookie monster… Macy was in a real pickle.
She didn’t like how it felt first hand. But again, in retrospect she’d come to find a new appreciation for life and how to live.
If she could make it through, that is.
As it stood her mind had just decided the color schemes, paired with the sounds pouring in from what seemed to be everywhere… along with the sickening props… together they belonged in television and nowhere else.
Scenes from movies she’d found entertaining, exciting… fun to use as ammo for relatable jump scares… not one offered entertainment value now that she was in similar shoes to the characters she’d labeled in fiction.
In fact, each line or visual passing through her mind confirmed a piece of her worst nightmare had found her.
Macy breathed deep, the weight of a thousand invisible eyes devoured her as she imagined the perp somehow being able to see her wherever she went in this sick maze.
She grabbed ahold of the banister for support, gathering her bearings as she went.
She was either; in the plot of a horror film, and if that was the case she had already proved at least a hand load of times, that she might be no better at surviving than the worst of the chuckleheads she’d previously seen on screen and laughed to scorn.
Shiny stereotypes like girl tripping over own feet and falling into the arms of the serial something or another… Or the stumble and drop the only weapon standing between the character and a seasoned pro ready to wipe them away forever gimmick, each glimmered over the surface of her imagination as she tiptoed along the wall.
Her chest fluttered as her breath got away. Her nostrils flared uneasily as she fought to regain deeper inhales. The flickering lights played tricks on her eyes. They darted and danced over potential shadowed dangers as if they were hungry for a heart attack, or something dreadful just to be done with the anticipations.
Or… or… or... that had been an either… or, so Either she was in the plot of a horror film… Or… She’d been chosen. She’d seen movies like that too.
Yes! That had to be it… The blinding optimism hit a brick wall with a sloosh! … She stepped in something oozing, it stuck to the bottom of her shoe like half dried glue.
Macy looked down slowly, the sticky dread building in her smoldering gut as another shard was added to the shattered glass she’d wandered into.
She lifted the back of her foot to her knee with the help of a hand. Under the blue flicker, the substance looked like thick, blackish-purple… canvas paint with tiny clumps.
But it smelt… Putrid… Dead… Rotten.
Stop it… stop being a baby. She hardened her face.
At least you’re wearing sneakers… at least you’re not in stupid heels, or barefoot… Macy nodded, swallowing hard against the knot in her throat.
Could be worse than that even… could have a cut on the bottom of your foot so if the killer doesn’t get you the rabid infection would… Or half-naked and just out of the shower…
I’m none of those things…
The thoughts flowed in with reassurance as Macy checked each of the boxes.
It was true…
She was set up better than the poor examples offered by the entertainment world. This meant, there was no reason for anything stupid to happen… No excuses… She crept forward, depending heavily on her sneakers to live up to their name as she planted a firm crumb trail of stinky goo with each left step she took.
In action… The entire setting was unpleasant but outside of the warning signs over stimulating her mind… what, had really happened? Walked down an endless hallway, and stepped into something that seemed gross. So what. Nothing else was real… really, it was just an illusion meant to make her feel the way she had. But that begged the question, who would go through so much trouble to make someone feel that way without reason…
Macy shivered.
As if in answer to her reasoning, what sounded like the high-pitched scream of a pained bunny rabbit screeched from the vent above her head nearly sending her out of her own skin.
The idea of what the sound might be attached to flicked her heart and sent it racing in front of her cautious steps. Be quiet. Be still.
The phrase flung itself over the rest in a desperate attempt to make peace with her warring internals.
The lump in her throat softened its grip just enough for Macy to notice it and gulp hungrily at the air.
I am to be silent. None of this is real. This is part of their… System. Their…
She searched for the right word as her foot skimmed over a loose rotten board.
initiation…..
The deadwood skipped over the floor stopping short at the edge of what appeared to be the beginning of, carpet.
It looked black under the blue glow shuttering from the ceiling.
This place was strange. But it was meant to be, so it felt… less scary and more curious with each step, Macy grew bolder. She walked a little taller, and just when she was starting to get used to the creepy music box tones click-clacking out the tune to the same song the small echoing voices had repeated again, and again… A new sound.
Her ears perked and her skin crawled until her hair prickled… fabric being torn? There were the bunny screams all over again.
Macy’s insides churned. This is a test. This is just a game, yes! That’s it, this is a game, I just have to get to the end without falling for any of their tricks. Someone set this up for me. From work maybe… Or the Oasis. Maybe this is Chris’s messed up way of asking her to join the family he never talked about.
Her thoughts stopped dead in their tracks while her eyes scanned the dead end she’d come too.
No FEAR….
Was scrawled strangely over the wall, cancelling the final option…
That wasn’t Chris’ handwriting…
To be continued… (on demand)