The Contortionist's Mind
- Robyn Weightman
- Jun 13, 2018
- 4 min read
As a thank you for reaching over 100 followers on Instagram, here's one of my more dark short stories.
Her sister lay slumped across a chair, blood weeping from her arm, congealing in a pool upon the floor below her. The girl stared in shock and confusion. She didn’t understand.
A low, unearthly growl emanated from the empty space. She turned to see a cavernous room forming before her. Jelly-like white walls rose up with no shadows nor edges. At the end of the nothingness stood a tall, slim figure. He beckoned with a claw like hand scraping through the empty air; sharp pointed teeth lining its carnivorous grin.
The girl obeyed. She stepped forwards, her footsteps echoing within the desolate, convulsing room, almost ethereal in their loudness. She walked slowly, unsure, frightened. Ghastly whispers began to creep towards her. Piercing growls of sickness and doubt enveloped her in torment. The girl covered her ears with her delicate hands, fingers gripping tightly turned bone white with effort. Her shoulders hunched as her steps quickened. The voices rang through her defences. Lying to her, hurting her. She stared at the ground beneath her feet; its white sheen disorientating her. The ruckus became a roar and she sprinted forwards, until finally, the sound stopped.
A silence caressed her. Long, pointed black feet stood before her own. She lifted her gaze across the black, fluid flesh of the creature, her heart raced in her chest, her legs shaking uncontrollably below her. Yet her eyes would not stop. They roamed up the man until they reached its tiny pupiled eyes. She held its gaze for a moment before it’s long claw pointed into the distance, and her eyes followed.
She turned tentatively. A coarse, jagged brown door grew from the white floor, surrounded by a alabaster wall. The sound of scratching and scurrying flowed from behind the barricaded obstruction.
A claw touched her shoulder and she turned back to the manifestation before her. It pointed higher in the wall’s direction. Behind and above the door hung a tube, a blocked dispensary pointing down towards the ground behind the blockade. The girl was perplexed, she turned back to the phantom who simply nodded before its claws grew larger and took hold of her body. It lifted her to sit upon the enclosure’s wall before handing her a thin white stool; its legs longer than anything the girl had seen before. She turned towards the pipe, which was blocked by some piece of fabric. She looked down to place the stool upon the ground below and saw the convulsing, black furry mass.
Within the enclosure was a horde of enormous black rats. Teeth grinded and nails scratched as they fought each other and the walls around them. The girl’s heart thundered against her chest as the ghastly phantom sniggered cruelly behind her.
She gulped and readied herself.
As she lowered the long, lanky stool onto the rat crowded floor below, the rats jumped at this new stimulation, teeth sawing at the slim wood of the stool’s legs. She climbed atop the untrustworthy pedestal and, through a serious of jumping and wriggling movements, inched it towards the blockage. It wobbled uncontrollably. The hair on her arms stood up at attention, as sweat dripped down her brow. She ground her teeth and continued forwards until she was stationed just below the fabric plug.
The terrifying whispers began to rise around her once more, the rats’ chattering getting louder. She stood upon the stool but could not reach the blockage. She tiptoed to the edge of the stool, almost losing her balance. Small tears began to trickle down her cheek. To her surprise and horror, the stool seemed to jump and get shorter and shorter, the rats looming ever closer.
A new sound swam towards her from the nothingness. A kind, gentle voice. Encouragement, reassurance and strength began to weave itself around her. The girl scanned the room around her, looking down at the convulsing rats, then across the restricting wall and towards the grinning ghoul.
“You’re safe. Nothing can hurt you,” the voices reassured.
The girl studied the thick door ahead of her; a single latch the only true barrier between the rats and her tormentor.
She pushed the stool forward, getting lower as she went, ever closer to the awaiting abyss. She held to her strength and focused her mind. As her shaking hand grasped the latch, twisted it up and out of its loop, her heart writhed.
The door creaked open, releasing the flow of angry rats as they stampeded towards the hallucination, devouring it piece by piece as its small pupils glared at the girl until nothing was left but one giant rat. It was full and happy. It looked towards the girl with an admiration and closeness.
The white room spiralled around her, changing into light pink walls, cream blinds and tiled blue floors. A man squatted before her, warm hands upon her shoulders, name tag dangling from his chest.
“You’re safe, you can beat this,” the nurse promised.
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