Anaethetize This

The walls were first, shaking and groaning against their wooden frames; plaster fell from the cracked roof above them. Celeste fell back in surprise, hitting into Joey who was frozen to the spot, his spine rigid and prickling.

The door slammed closed behind them.

Next came the blood, it seeped from every nook and cranny around them; bubbling up from the pipes, dripping from the bath tap, sliding down the chipped porcelain. I’m sorry were the words the stuck in Celeste’s throat, they were never to be heard by anyone but her conscious though.

The worst was yet to come.

Their hand’s flew to their ears, a screech erupted around them, its pitch was unworldly; hitting into the chipped tiles it played ping pong back and forth across the small space that enclosed them.

Celeste screamed.

The mirror she had so naively played with no longer showed reflection.

Joey turned; latching onto the door knob he tugged and pulled with all his might, freedom just behind the door, but they were trapped by their own deeds. He jolted as Celestes hand flew out, clutching onto his shirt, her nails digging into his skin.

Hissing in pain he turned around to knock her away, his eyes caught something else though. Following her line of site he stared in horror at the mirror, the skin breaking nails were now perfectly acceptable and long forgotten.

Miss Mary Mack, Mack, Mack
All dressed in black, black, black
She had a knife, knife, knife
Stuck in her back, back, back
She cannot breathe, breathe, breathe
She cannot cry, cry, cry
That’s why she begs, begs, begs
She begs to die, die, die.

The possessive pitch of a young girl swarm around them nauseatingly; they could do nothing but listen and stare into the mirror, the glass black and swirling like liquid, red splatters appearing and disappearing at uneven intervals.

Celeste’s bottom lip quivered, her heart was thumping against her chest;

Thump,

Thump,

Thump.

Joey’s in unison.

Thump,

Thump,

Thump.

Their feet were being bathed by the pool of blood building up around their ankles; Joey shook his head slightly; plaster particles falling from it to the floor. He pulled Celeste’s back into his chest; they fell together against the door.

Thump.

The last thump beat heavily inside them; then the sadistic truth of playing with urban legend unfurled its greatest reaction around them. The glass stopped swirling, the walls stopped bleeding; the plaster stopped falling.

The door clicked open.

They breathed out in a false sense of relief.

Letting go of his grasp around Celeste, Joey turned and opened the door, swallowing down the vomit threatening to pass from his mouth. Celeste glanced at the mirror once more then turned as well, keeping as close as she could to Joey.

Poking his head out into the hallway and checking in both directions; he put his right hand out behind him, Celeste grabbing it and together they stepped into the hallway. His boot had barely touched the dusty floorboard when another screech ruptured their ear drums. A gush of icy wind blew from behind them, knocking both to the floor.

They cried out in pain, the screeching didn’t stop though.

Waiting for it to pass, praying that it would they waited, their faces squashed against the floor; eyes jammed tightly shut.

It continued though, getting louder, then softer, then louder again until it felt like the mouth allowing such a horrible noise to be born was right up next to their faces. In fact, they could’ve sworn it was.

It stopped abruptly; silence bowing its head in memory.

Celeste whimpered and went to push herself up; Joey grabbed her arm and stopped her, something telling him to wait. That something only made anger bubble heatedly in the atmosphere around them.

“You called me to play and now you don’t want to,” a voice familiar to the one singing not a minute before floated above them. ”I want to play,” it roared darkly, black metal singers could only dream of owning such a screaming capability.

Celeste screamed suddenly, Joey turned and watched in limp horror as something pulled her up by the hair, he could see the skin stretching on her face from the pull, her arms flailing upwards trying to swat away whatever was pulling her; eyes rolling into the back of her head.

“See the problem -” the distant voice said, Celeste’s eyes let the first wave of hysterical tears spill from them as she was thrown against the wall.

“With all of you children -” it continued, Celeste hitting the wall once more; scratches turning into gaping cuts now; Joey could only watch in frozen horror still.

“Is you never finish -” it was getting harsher now, the force pushed Celeste against the wall more powerful, an almighty crack signalling a broken nose.

“Anything you start,” it yelled, Celeste’s scream this time was even more piercing than the screech they had heard before. Her now battered and bleeding body was thrown against the wall again, pulled back almost immediately then thrown backwards into the bathroom; her head hit the bathtub – knocked out instantly.

Joey’s mouth opened and closed silently - shock.

It didn’t last long however, there was suddenly a pressure on his ears, he found himself being flipped over onto his back - looking at nothing but the eroding ceiling above.

“You follow stupidity,” a voice whispered in his ear.

He turned his head in surprise but almost instantly he was lifted from the floor by the shoulder pads of his leather jacket. Kicking and punching wildly were of no use, his feet were meters from the ground now; his head bobbing up against the ceiling.

“Boys are stupid though,” the voice chuckled evilly, now coming from somewhere in front of him - nothing was there. His eyes scanned everywhere; avoiding looking down at the floor that seemed ever further away from his feet, fear consumed his every inch, his mind still unable to comprehend what was happening.

“Ugly boys,” the voice hissed. Joey yelled in agony, his hand groping his face, feeling blood where a long gash now lined his cheek; an evil laughter erupted around him. Then again he was cut, only this time he was holding his other cheek, the laughter getting louder and more sadistic.

Then again – his forehead.

Then again – his neck.

Then again – his arm.

“STOP!” he yelled, the tears rolling over his cheeks only making the cuts burn more; “Stop,” he added in a weak whimper. The laughter stopped, an angry hiss replacing it.

“Fine,” the voice whispered.

He fell, hitting the floor hard, bones snapping underneath him, head hitting the edge of the wall.

Out cold.