Broken

A short horror thriller that depends upon the narrator's short descriptions to build up the atmosphere and engulfs the reader with an uncomfortable and unsettling end.

I stare in frustration at the computer screen in front of me. A gigantic wave of mixed emotions, like the ocean waves blended with a bunch of colours, hits me. I don't know how to comment on the message that I see in front of me. I feel frustrated, but at the same time I also feel pity for the people who fall for these things. The message that I have in front of me reads, "My name is Jenny. I was shot by my father when I was 13 years old . Now that you have read this, you have to spread this message else I will give you an unpleasant visit in the night."

I shut down the computer with a sigh. My inner self tells my sarcastic alter ego to to just forget this and not care about this stuff. I look at the big wall clock across the room. It's rusty hands point towards 12, with the tip of the short one just showing from behind the longer one. It's 12 am. I need to get some sleep. I lie on my bed resting my head on two pillows. I prefer sleeping straight and that's why I require two pillows stacked on top of each other to feel comfortable and enter a deep slumber. I cover myself with the bed sheet completely even though it feels hot and sultry. I feel more safe tucked in, because of a belief that a random devil is going to come and abscond with any of my exposed parts except my head.

The continuous sound of tapping thrusts me from my dreams to the real world. I do not know when I fell asleep but I know for sure that it is not time for me to wake up yet. I have a hunch that it's around 3 am. My eyes hurt when I open them. It feels like needles scraping the underside of my eyelids. The tapping does not stop, preventing me from reentering my slumber. I need to do something about the tapping. Each tap makes my head throb in bursts, like a gun set to fire in burst mode in a video game. Tap.....tap.....tap......

It is probably just my brother working on some ambitious project. He frequently stays up entire nights developing his fantastically insane ideas but simultaneously, he is considerate and dexterous enough to not wake me . For the first time, he is disturbing my sleep. I cover my head with the pillow till the point of suffocation. The cover has a peculiar smell that all cotton clothes have when new. The tapping is incessant. Tap.....tap....tap....

Grudgingly, I get out of my bed. I need to do something about this noise. I decide against washing my face because in the current condition, my eyes are going to sting more. I feel disoriented as I plant my feet on the carpeted floor. The tapping is coming from the floor above. I make my way to the stairs just beside my room. It's very dark. So dark that I can barely see my hands stretched out in front of me. I stand in front of the first step and wait. I need a few moments to adjust to the darkness so that I can vaguely see the path I am traversing. A black and white view, like from an old movie. The tapping grows louder. Tap....tap...tap....

I need to switch on the lights but the switch is on the other side of the room. A lousy design. I make a mental note on keeping a switch next to the flight so stairs when I get a house for myself. Then I begin the risky ascent. The old wooden steps creak under my weight. On a normal night, the sounds would have pierced the curtain of darkness like a needle against a balloon but the tapping drowns away the sound of my footsteps. With each step the tapping seems to get louder. Tap......tap....tap...

I make my way to my bother's room. The door is partially closed but there is no light showing. Was my brother working in the dark. A chill runs down my spine. All of a sudden the tapping stops. This makes me notice the sound of my heavy breathing. With the tapping gone, the sound of silence feels more eerie and I begin to feel fear. Why was my brother working in the dark.

Dreading the drooping air of darkness, I reach forward and push the door. Complete darkness. Barricaded windows don't allow anything to enter or leave the room, even moonlight. I cannot sense the presence of another human being. Where is my brother? Suddenly, the silence is broken by the shrill sound of breaking glass. I feel the air vibrate each time the glass pieces touch the floor. The sound came from below. The kitchen!

Did my brother go down to the kitchen to have a drink? Did he drop a glass? But if he went down now, why didn't I meet him on the stairs? If he went down before me what was the source of the unholy tapping? I shudder. I don't want to think anymore but the chilly atmosphere and the darkness make it impossible to be calm. Panic is nigh......

There is a steady sound of water flowing. I think the tap has been left open with the water pouring out making a noise near inaudible during the day but the siren of a fire engine at night. I rush down the stairs. I do not care if I fall. The first thought that enters my head is that there is someone else in the house. My heart begins to race. I was never in the midst of a situation like this? What do I do?

I make my way towards the kitchen. Once again there is no light. The darkness is now more frightening than ever. I pay no heed to the rat that scampers past me. My objective is clear, switch on the lights in the kitchen! But doubt hits me like a bullet. I realise I am experiencing fear. I am frightened. I am rooted to my spot at the kitchen door. I am afraid. I don't know what lies ahead. I don't even know what to expect. The mere thought of not knowing that gives me a shiver.

Man is afraid of a lot of things. But there is a common cause for fear. The myriad branches have a common origin - the unknown. Man fears the unknown. He is afraid of the dark only because he cannot see his way. He is not afraid of beings or supernatural entities. He is afraid of the outcome as he does not know whether it will be good or bad. Fear of the unknown makes the bravest of the brave shrivel. I fear what I may find when I switch on the lights.

I enter the kitchen with wobbly legs and trembling hands. I reach for the lights and flip the switch. Still darkness. The lights are probably on, but my eyes are closed. I do not want to open them. I do not want to face what lies ahead. I embrace the darkness produced. My heart and my body throb in harmony. I will not look.....I will not open my eyes.....I will not.......

Brightness blinds me. It takes a few moments for me to adjust to the sudden brightness jump. But the vision is a grotesque one. My brother lies on the floor in a pool of blood. The red colour of the blood seems to be enhanced by the extremely bright light in the room. He seems to be lying on molten ruby. The handle of a knife sticks out from his chest. Blood spurts out like water from a hose after the tap has just been turned off. I feel the need to puke. But no.....the scene is an attractive one. A third party would notice the gleam in my eyes as a smile comes on to my face. The scene changes. The knife is not sticking out of my brothers chest but my own. I am clutching the sliver handle. I am lying in the centre of the room in a pool of blood that looks like molten ruby. My brother standing at the door rushes in. "Why are you stabbing yourself,"he shouts.

By the time my brother is by my side there are three distinct punctures on my torso with blood spurting like a fountain through each of them. Old memories flash before me as I transcend into the bliss of nothingness. I catch glimpses of memories that I had locked in the attic of my brain many summers ago and had forgotten about till now. I see the THE revolver. I remember playing with a gun I found in my mother's room and then the event that followed - my maniacal mother angrily shooting me trying to show me what happens to people who play with guns. I then see my mother shooting herself thinking that I was dead. Tears stream down both of my cheeks. My brother screams,"Jenny, don't die on me!"

The End

Reviews

[Confuser]

Ashish: You have written a wonderful story. Wow....the details are very good, the suspense, was amazing. I don't usually read this genre, and found myself covering my face; thinking oh no, as if I was watching a movie. This imagery you provided by writing a story with great detail, description and plot. When you mentioned 3:00 am early own, maybe an old wife's tale, but some say that the witching hour. A time for evil spirits, so that pulled me in even more, then as you travered through the home, if my husband would have said my name, I believe I would have jumped! I kind of stubbled with the line, a man is not afraid of the supernatural, but that's just me, your point about the unknown was very good. I must say you are very talented. Wonderful imagination that took me on a great journey. Bravo to you. I must say, I saw your review of a poem, and we had different opinions, which is fine, but it did peak my interest. Thank you so very much. Dale

[Ashish Hegde]

Thank you for the review. As to having different opinions on the poem, I would say, every entity in the world has a different description based on the viewer. After all, the saying goes, beauty lies in the eye of the beholder. But nevertheless, this review made my day!! Thanks again.
By the way, i had selected 3:00 am because it was the firs thing that came into my head and only when I read your comment about the witching hour did I dig up an old tale from my subconscious mind - "Whisper Bloody Mary in front of a mirror at 3 am".

[Confuser]

That sounds familiar too...Oh and please do not take offense at all, I'm certain it will not bother the writer; it just simply peaked my curiosity. You have written a wonderful story. Your welcome, but thanks!!! Dale

[Ashish Hegde]

Offense? nah! I am always looking forward to a debate on opinions and maybe one day we could have a discussion on varied interpretations?

[Confuser]

Nice....you could probably teach me a lot!:D

[Sufana Anakkachery]

Wow..! Great work! The way you sprinkled suspense and creepy feeling...Just loved it! I felt as if i was the protagonist walking in the dark.

[Confuser]

***********************************************************still wonderful work>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

[Emily]

Vary nice story!
Keep it up!

[DoormanDan]

Color me slow if you want, but I actually had to give the story another read before what was going on here dawned on me. I am very impressed by this, more so than I usually am by stories on this website. The atmosphere you created builds up at just the right pace in my opinion, neither being too rapid for the reader to get drawn in nor too slow for the reader to lose interest in the story altogether. It was on the second read through that I realized that you used first person to your advantage by avoiding having to reveal the gender of your main character Jenny(whom I'm assuming suffers from being mentally unstable, therefore making all of the irrational fear and other emotions that she feels plausible). The whole time(for some weird reason), I thought that your main character was a male one, but by the time I got to the end, I realized how wrong I was. I have a question to ask though; if the main character is Jenny, and she was the one who read the message, then was she sending out to somebody? And if she was, who was it to, her brother perhaps? This isn't a criticism as much as it's a curiosity, and besides, leaving some speculation in your story is a fantastic way to make it even more entertaining for the readers. Overall, I found this story very well written, full of suspense(but not so much that it becomes tiresome), and it has a legitimately stable, dark atmosphere to it. The only thing I have to point out is a typo I saw in the sixth paragraph;

"I make a mental note on keeping a switch next to the flight so(you meant to write "of" here) stairs ". That insignificantly small thing was the only thing I felt like pointing out(in all of my nit picking glory). You have done an extraordinary job with this story, my friend, I mean it. 5/5 stars from me! :)

[Ashish Hegde]

Haha that was a good question. I suppose it could be some other jenny. Or it could have been a message that was initially circulated by the protagonist who forgot about it because of the unstable mind. This whole story was conceived as the result of frustration from reading such messages forwarded to me on social networks.
And thanks for pointing out the typo.

[DoormanDan]

You are welcome, and I mean it, this is probably the most entertaining short story I have read on this website to date :)

[Ashish Hegde]

Whoa!! Thanks!