Red : A Gothic Story

A Story by Lauren H.

A gothic short story about a young teen, Evie, who runs for her life to escape a murderer.

Red

Lauren Harper

Run. No. I can’t. I have to stay. My brother….but they…..Thoughts whirl around my head a million miles a minute. I don’t know what to think. Crimson pours from his lifeless body. I attempt to stop the blood. There is too much. I check his pulse for a heartbeat. I feel nothing. My brother is dead. Dead. His blood starts to pool, almost touching my white nightgown. My mind races. I am frozen in place, eyes stuck staring at his body. I can feel the blood throbbing in my head. My fingers are trembling and my breath is rapid and short. I don’t know what to do, what to think. Too many emotions. I suddenly feel sick. I can’t breathe, and the walls start to close in. My breath catches in my throat, and then all I see is blood red.

It makes me feel angry. Pure hatred burns inside of me, but where it was coming from, I have no idea. I feel like I have no control.

“EVIE, NO! Stop!” the bloodcurdling scream pierces my thoughts. It sounds familiar, but the red continues to blind me.

***

I snap out of the daze and find myself at the top of the stairs. How did I get here? I get up and freeze. Red splatters the master bedroom. Blood. It seems familiar, those splatters. But why? Why does it feel familiar? The more I look, the more I get a sense of satisfaction deep inside me, and the more confused I get. Suddenly, my thoughts focus and realization hits. My head jerks up, blue eyes wide. First, my brother. Dead. Now my parents. Dead. That must mean...I’m next. I can feel my already pale face drain of all its blood. I need to get out of here. I race down the stairs and grab a knife from the kitchen. I fling open the door and just run.

My nightgown billows in the chilly night. I don’t bother to go back and grab a jacket, though. I am driven by fear. My adrenaline is pumping, my heart racing. I sprint as hard as I can into the forest behind my house. The same words course through my mind as I run. Don’t stop don’t stop don’t stop. Do not let them catch you, Evie. Tree branches tear into my arms and tangle my hair, but I don’t I feel their effects over the sound of my thudding heart. My bare feet crash into the leaf-strewn forest floor. Jagged rocks and sharp twigs cut my feet. My breathing becomes labored, and I start to slow down.

Finally, I can’t take another step and collapse. My breath comes out in large ragged puffs, solidifying in the cold air. I sit down and examine my cut up feet, ghostly in the pale moonlight. I take in my surroundings. The forest is eerie with fog clinging to every inch of the gnarled, twisting trees. A crescent moon hovers above, casting its moonlight only as far as the fog will allow. Mist hugs my ankles as the ominous trees loom over me. What if they’re in here, just waiting for me? I shiver in my white silk. I scoot to a cluster of trees and set my knife near me. I huddle between the twisted trunks, burying myself in their dead leaves. My brother is dead, and so are my parents. It never should have happened... If anything, I should be dead. Danny was a sweet brother, always sharing and helping around the house. I am the troubled one.

Eventually, I can’t help it and burst into tears. My heart aches for what I thought I would never lose: my family. However, no matter how desolate I am about my family, a part of me is different. Not happy, but relieved. I no longer have to put on a smile and pretend that I don’t remember the violence. I don’t have to pretend that I’m fine.

A wolf’s howl interrupts my thoughts. I jump up, grab my knife, and shove it out in front of me. Sticks snap to my left. I whirl towards the sound, arm and knife shaking. My heart once again starts beating out of my chest. The fog starts to play tricks on my eyes. I see movement out of the corner of my eye. I slowly turn, despite my brain screaming for me to move faster. The fog makes shapes, little wisps of smoke coming together and separating. I hold my breath and shrink into the fog, attempting to make myself invisible. My lips tremble in fear. I take a step backward. Then another. Then another and crunch! A leaf crumbles beneath my foot. I don’t hesitate. I turn around and run, legs pumping as hard as I can. They’re close, Evie. Keep running. I glance around me; the fog is running with me, except it isn’t the fog. Something is running with me.

“Aaah!” I shout as I trip over a log. I scramble trying to regain my footing. The fog starts to separate. Crunch! One crunch. Crunch crunch! Two crunches. I see a glimmer and remember my knife. I wield it in front of me when an anger swells in my chest. The red comes again, this time darker. It’s so dark, it’s almost black. I hear the howl….and then, dead silence.

***

The night is pitch black when I stir again. The only light is the little sliver of moonlight that makes it to the forest floor. Frost is crystallizing on the dead leaves around me. I turn around and freeze. My breath catches in my throat. I don’t move. After 30 seconds, I realize that it is not alive, but in fact a dead wolf.

I inch towards it, wary of my environment. I make it to the wolf and wipe my hands on my nightgown. For the first time, I notice they are wet. I need to see better. I hurry over to the moonlight.

My nightgown is caked with blood. The torn hem looks like it was dipped in it. Blood splotches are scattered over the front. Like the ones on the master bedroom. How did they get there? I look to where I just wiped my hands. There is blood so dark, it’s almost black. Almost black….the vision….familiar splatters….what is going on? I fall to my knees, pressing my head between my hands. I have seen no one. How could the wolf have died? I run back over and inspect its blood. I can’t see, so I put a hand on its fur. It’s coarse, matted with both liquid and dried blood. I get a glob of the wolf’s blood and run over to the light. It is the same color. They are in here, toying with me, making me go insane. I need to get out of the forest. I am not safe anywhere. I turn around and am about to start running when I see a glint. I walk towards it.

It glistens silver, the dark handle buried in leaves, and there is deep red blood dripping from its tip. It is my knife, and yet is covered in blood. Slowly, I pick it up and get a look at my reflection.

It doesn’t look like me. The hair is too messy. There are knots and dirt clumps that hold leaves. My lips are cracked and bleeding, my skin so pale I look like a ghost. The part that scares me most is my eyes. Bloodshot, crazed. The forest is changing me. I get up and run. Eventually, I see an opening in the trees. I run harder, desperate to get out of this dark place. I near the edge of the forest and step out onto cold cement. Traffic lights and poles surround me. Nighttime still lurks, however, and the moon looks lower than it was. The wind continues to howl, whipping my blood-encrusted hair behind me. The light pole flickers, causing me to look over towards it.

A flutter catches my eye. It rustles in the wind, attached to the pole. It’s a flier. The girl on it looks innocent. She has long dark hair, pale, naive eyes, and a freckle near the corner of her left eye. My heart skips a beat, causing my breath to catch in my throat, Wait...that’s me. What am I doing on a flier? I scan the rest of the rumpled paper. In large print it says:

EVELYN JONES: WANTED FOR THE MURDER OF PARENTS AND BROTHER

It made no sense. How could I have killed Danny when….oh my gosh. Sudden grief overwhelms me, almost like an emptiness. My knees crumple underneath me, and I struggle to grip onto the light pole. My fingernails scrape against the metal. Time slows. My eyes are stuck staring at my cracked, cold hands in my lap. My dirty hair falls into my face. I breathe slowly, attempting to slow my thumping heart. In…...out…...in….out. I can’t believe...how could I? I am not human.

I hear loud sobs in the distance. It takes me a minute to realize that they’re coming from me. I throw up, still sickened by my discovery, and contine to sob. Tears are streaming down my face when it hits me. My feeling of unexplainable anger, I did this. The screams and howl. Their last breaths as I killed them. And the red. It was the blood.

I am the killer.

Suddenly, something inside me snaps. It was what I had felt all along: the hatred, anger, the fire inside of me. It was what I felt near my parents and the wolf. This time I don’t push it away, though. I welcome it. I want the dark part of me to be free. I want it to make me free. The feeling gives me power. I stand up. I have to keep going, to hurt more people. It is a hunger, a craving like never before.

I need it. I am the monster. I am my own evil, the source of my fear, and I can’t stop now.