Chapter Text
You stumbled out of the mirror expecting your back to hit wood, yet what you felt was softer. As your eyes adjusted to the darkness you realized you were on grass. You pat yourself down quickly, nothing lost, the pendant presents rosemary as well, and so was your phone, pushing yourself up to sit. You note your luck as well as in front of you was a thick bush of prickly floral. They scaled onto the walls of the home, covering the window as well. Light pink with thick yellow spindles in the middle. You flick your flashlight to look around.
Next to the window a bit down to its left was the backyard sliding doors, is what you're assuming if the porch is correct. It seems the outside has also changed as the church-like building is nowhere to be seen, seeming to be pushed back if the pathway in the ground indicates anything. The path was not smooth, filled with rock twigs and leaves. And the new thick dark trees could show of note, their leaves looked unkempt even for a tree and dense. Surrounding the house circularly, moss covered the bark spreading from the thick bushes on the ground. And even your light could not pierce through darkness after the first layer of trees.
Despite being told what to do, she was still vague. If your memory serves you right there are ten portraits. In what order do you need to go in as well, if there is such a thing that you have no knowledge of. You unbuckle the bag and take it off your shoulder. You reach for the insides of the bag and bring a tape out yet it seemed it changed.
From vibrancy to aged colors, the outside of the tapes were chipped. To note there were words written in symbols that made no sense. You were confused, your memory should serve you right, grabbing another tape to the light, the change was present. You shined your light into the bag, all of the tapes were aged, some seemed broken almost and all were marked with strange lines of symbols. They weren't odd, shapes would be better described as circles, squares and triangles. Some half shaded others fully. You stop looking at the tapes and pull out the journal, it looked fine beforehand if your memory is even still correct.
Yet now it seemed aged, the leather binding fraying from the hard wood underneath. There are some holes as well. The pages frayed, and aged in a way that could be told even if the book is not open. You open it and the scent of dust and ink hits you in a way. You flip through the ages; they were not smooth, more akin to parchment paper.
The first few pages were empty, with odd discoloration. You turned a few more pages to find words yes. But in an incredibly messy font or is the word artistic better. Cursive in the sense, some areas smudged the ink. It spread two full pages of such a mess. You scanned the pages slightly, it seemed like a different language beside the reassurance of a few letters you recognized. Scanning your finger you rest on the date: 5/12/59.
Despite the queasy feeling you got staring at the date. Readable it was, it could be the indication of what direction you could go. You tried to read the pages, it was hard to but maybe if you can brute force it would work?
..The police said…I could only hope for summer……Forest seems bigger…I hope Mary… Mom is-
You hear a tap from the direction of the window, you snap your head at the window. It was dark and you couldn't see clearly past the vines. It could have just been the wind pushing veins closer to the glass for a momentary blip. There was nothing that the naked eye could see, and your flashlight did illuminate it even from a distance.
Maybe your mind is playing tricks-
A tap comes again, this one sharper in a way. Hesitantly you bring your flashlight up to the window, and as the light adjusted around the vines. You saw it. You saw him, his dead panned expression. He didn't even blink as the light shined directly at him. His knife tapped the window again, its tip pointed at you. Your brain played a small snippet of the past at that expression. Only snapping away as he tapped it again after a few moments like a woodpecker. It was just him though and you're unsure if that should calm you or heighten your fear.
He continued to stare yet the direction of his head was not at you, it was slightly to the left. Almost as if he was waiting for something, someone. You remember in that direction is the back yard porch, you quickly turned yourself to look. Your flash illuminated the moldy white porch, chipped and sunken. Yet you leaned back slightly as the doors weren't visible. You in turn were given the horrible realization.
The door was open, slides fully open and you aren't sure for how long it's been open. And if any indication of where he is looking, you're not alone outside.
You quickly push the journal into the bag and buckle up as you push yourself up from the ground. And are facing a dilemma of what to do.
Where are you even going to run to? If you are to assume she is outside, where to then. Vile creatures to a religious person means demons, right? If you are to assume so then the best bet is the church like building, right? What if that's not a chur-
You hear the crunch of something, it was from the right side from inside the forest. Muffed the sound, yet despite that it pierced your senses. You were frozen until you heard the sound briefly again as if someone was walking through bushes. You didn't even want to look at the direction.
You push the bag around your shoulder, and begin to speed walk as you get onto the path. Persevering your energy if needed, the quietness felt loud. As the sound would sporadically appear each time felt closer yet the direction was the same. It was as if a lion was hunting a gazelle. In front of the path as you ventured the tree branches stretched on the path way as you continued. Sharp they are, you moved past them meticulously. They poked on to the fabric, barely missing your face. It seemed endless in fact, each step built into your anxiousness. Your light finally showed the sight you wanted. Only ten steps away the church seemed to change as well.
Yet instead of being aged like everything else it looked fresh. It looked picturesque and tall with a bell on top. Pure white wooden walls with a black slanted roof. Two large windows in the front looked more like a barn, and a metal fence lined the front. It was short and floral. The pound looked larger in fact, it was stagnant wrapping up to the front. You could see the algae from here, smell it as well. Close to safe-
The noise was not muffled, it was sharp, behind you it was maybe five steps away.
Your next step was filled with speed, she was getting ready to strike. You ran up to the gate it was locked, you reached your hand across it noticing it was a pulley lock. The rust was thick, making it hard to pull it up from the bottom. Sealed like glue almost, you pulled and pulled. Until you heard the breaking of the rust seal pulling it up. Freedom was close until you heard it, No felt it.
Something small yet pulsing hit your back, like small pebbles. Yet if only it was rocks, it broke the skin of some pieces lodging inside of your body. Some pushed through your back and out of your torso clanking with the metal gate. You didn't even feel it momentarily, the pain was sharp yet the adrenaline kicked in faster. You pulled the lock up quickly and pushed through the gate. You ran towards the church until you heard it this time a gun shot. A sharp lard boom that lasted three seconds.
You felt it as well, it was aimed higher to your lungs.
They pulsated over your body, some sticking between your lungs as they rushed out of your body. You felt the blood trail down your chest slowly dampening your hoodie, yet you continued to walk towards the door. Until another shoot could be heard closer to your right leg. The bullets burned in your leg and jammed through the bone and muscle. It was more painful being stuck inside the flesh, you stumbled and fell on to your knees. The dirt stained your pants in a worse sin than the blood. The pain sharpening from the fall.
You grab your chest and turn to look at that vile girl.
Yet what you saw was not her. A girl sure but not of her age she was young. Two steps away from you she was, your light illuminating her. Tan skin with deep freckles. No older than ten, her dark brown hair braided with red bows. She wore a floral dark blue short sleeved collared shirt and red bow, with a matching red skirt. White knee high socks and black flats. Her hand held the weapon, a shot gun, dark brown and black metal. Her eyes are silky white yet if she was “normal” then why-
The tapes.
Her expression showed no joy or indifference; there was fear. She shakes, it looks like she's actually crying. She didn't understand what or who you were, maybe she was trying to talk to you. In how she was approaching you. That sick bastard in the beginning or maybe it was fear that your mind was trying to rationalize it. As you tried to speak , she brought the gun up quickly and her hand on the trigger. As she shoots while shaking.
.
.
- Child, fear leads you, keep your heart open but your hand ready to cover it-
You stumble on to the ground feeling the grass below. You get up, pull open the bag and push the headphone onto your ears. As you began to run into the forest clicking the tape on.