The Reflected Horror

A man is being hunted by an unknown pursuer, who may not be so unknown to him.

           The hour is extremely late, but that does not matter to me. All I want to do is return home in time. I decided to take a shortcut through the dense woods of Redpine Valley, as they offer a much faster way home than the main roads, against my better judgment. Yet I’m not exactly sure why I didn’t take the main roads anyway. It’s so very odd to me that I cannot recall any events before entering these woods. All I can remember are the peculiar dreams; dreams that consisted of lengthy, abyssal hallways, constant sedations, bars in the windows, and harrowing screams. Need I stress the word peculiar?                    

         At first, all seemed well and I was thinking clearly. Until, that is, the knowledge of the escaped mental patient that had been on the loose for several hours enters my mind. Something had gone wrong at Redpine Valley Mental Institute, somebody had started some kind of riot. Many were injured and from what I know, a few even died in the violence. Amidst this chaos one patient had escaped and from what the authorities must have gathered, he went into this very same forest. The fear now rises within me, thus I begin to run. An awful sensation comes over me as I suddenly feel as though the patient were near me. I want to cry out at the top of my lungs. I just cannot stand feeling as though the maniac were right behind me, as if he were following my footsteps. I remember hearing how they labeled him, “...dangerous” “...violent” and “...menacing” As if it couldn’t be enough, I now hear snapping twigs in the distance. I try to calm myself by thinking it is merely an animal. But whence I begin hearing footfalls much too heavy to be any woodland creature, it seems as if all the fears I have ever encountered in my past life are beginning to manifest itself into one massive and fearsome reflection. Footfalls have now approached directly to my right, no more than a few meters away from me. Turning to face what seemed to be an un-nameable fear, I see them. A small group of mysterious men, no more than nine of them, all dressed in black.

         The dull moon in the sky gives off a grim reflection where the eyes should be. It seems as if they have glassy lenses over their eyes, but I see no such eyes beyond these intimidating frames of glass, only cold, unfeeling darkness. This is all too much for me, I commence to sprinting away from these men in black. Where I am going, I do not know. All I know is that they are now running after me, waving clubs of some sort. Oh God! What have I done to these merciless captors of hope to make them want to harm me? I try hiding in whatever shadow is nearest, but it’s no use. My stalking assailants seem to know my every move; wherever I may run to, they know exactly where I am. Their hollow, reflective eye sockets follow me where ever I hide. I realize I am not safe from these lurking shadow men, and there is no escape. I do not want to face this horror so I keep on running.

        Off in the distance, I see a radiant glow, given off by the headlights of a vehicle. To me, it is not just an ordinary light in my eyes, but a light that signals only something heaven sent. Its sole intention appears to save me from this hell. Offering a way out, an escape from these wraiths of darkness, the mentally insane escapee, from every danger I may encounter. I quickly approach the vehicle, hoping to ask the driver to perhaps give me a ride home to safety. But a small, sharp pain pangs in my rib cage. I look down to see a dart, a sedative maybe. The lights I see now begin to fade, my one way of merciful escape from this insanity now vanishing before my eyes as the vehicle moves away. I feel this coven of godless men surround me now, tackling me to the ground and pouncing on top of me, trying to hold me down as my conscience slips away very slowly. I cannot succumb to this; this fear has only driven me to my fiercest to fight them off. I face the one pinning me to the ground and while screaming maniacally, I instigate by randomly throwing fists and clawing at whatever my hands connect with.

       But my attempts at defending myself are futile as every one of these sinister hunters is now pummeling me with their clubs savagely. I feel the most sickening crunch as one of the clubs cracks a couple of my ribs and the insurmountable pain reverberates through my body. Finally, their brutal onslaught lets up and as consciousness fades, I hear one of the men in black speak. He says. “He’s out for sure, case the perimeter to make sure there haven’t been any witnesses.” One of the others remark frustratingly, “If only these crazies knew we were only trying to help them.” All vision, hearing, and thinking descend into darkness...

         I now awaken slowly to find myself in a freezing, gloomy looking room. Odd colored stains decorate the concrete walls. A filthy sink sits in the corner of the room. A minuscule window which one could hardly see out of looms in the top right corner of the room. Metal bars set up a barricade between me and the windowpane. I look to where a door should be and see to my surprise, a cell door one would find in prisons or... asylums? Immediately, my thoughts thrash about in my head. I find that my green t-shirt and grey overalls I was wearing previous to waking ha been replaced with a dark blue jumpsuit. Screams echo around me, they proclaim mocking obscenities I dare not repeat. I am not alone in this building it seems. I’ve put it all together, but have in the process begun to discover a vista of knowledge I wish I never stumbled upon. It is clear I am currently in some kind of... cell.          

         I walk forward a few paces, with difficulty due to my aching ribs. Seeing something out of the corner of my eye, I turn to my left in a moment’s notice. I scream in absolute terror. It seems I’ve only begun to encounter the horrors of ultimate reality. All I can remember are the dreams, the dreams that are in fact memories. The screams in the darkness, bars in the window, false guarantees and promises of recovery, starting a riot, doing whatever is necessary to escape even if it included harming those in my path. There is no escaping this state of fright.

         All I can do is stare in utter fear, for the escaped mental patient I had been deathly afraid of running into while moving through the forest, now stares back at me... from a pane of reflecting, polished glass...

Reviews

[nostal]

A bit predictable but very good! Some of your dictional choices were a bit off, clunky to say the least, but the piece has this creepy aura around out, very reminiscent of Edgar Allan Poe.

[Sharkapillar]

I knew it! I knew by what the men in black said that he'd be the mental patient.
That was awesome, you have talent. I like creepy stuff, the creepier the better.

Decent story. Really good on atmosphere. I think with a bit more polish this would make a very strong flash fiction piece. Perhaps elaborating on the men in black or the location could strengthen the story? Either way, good stuff, I look forward to reading more of you work.

[Mandi]

wOw. you're a good writer. this was cReEpY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! :0