RuneScape Forum Archive | Leb's Ensemble of Short Shorts

Borna Coric

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Voices bounced around her head. Some of them she could recognize as her father’s words, but a lot of them were just the ghosts of the air trying to scare her even more than she already was. The purple wallpaper that decorated her room caught fire, destroying the various framed photographs that reminded her of her friends and family.
Screaming, she tried to reach out to save them, but they were already burning fiercely. The bed frame melted away and she collapsed onto the floor. Only her thin white blanket cushioned the fall. The lesser deities had succeeded. The moon turned dark and the stars flashed wildly, succumbing to the chaos that haunted Luna’s daughter.
An evil laugh bounced around the room as the poltergeist destroyed the walls. Trees brought their branches down on the girl, battering and bruising her. Bark broke off as she was repetitively struck and everything disappeared from around her. The only possession that remained was the blanket.
Holding the item closely, she released a stream of tears. The blanket filled of water and the poltergeist drew nearer, closer and closer. It grinned again, showing stumps that resembled teeth. Everything went white, leaving only the girl and the blanket to confront the ghostly figure.
She raised herself precariously to her feet.
The poltergeist tilted its head inquisitively, wondering what the girl was doing. She should have been corrupted with fear; that was the horror of the beast. Walking towards the ghost in black robes, she raised the blanket into the space that separated the two.
The girl closed her eyes as the poltergeist consumed her.

23-Jun-2011 12:38:33 - Last edited on 31-Jul-2011 02:08:32 by Borna Coric

Borna Coric

Posts: 3,785 Adamant Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile

This is one of my less developed and polished stories, but I wanted to revert back to my horror-ish roots. To do this, I wanted to utilise second person, and as such, Behind You was born. Really nothing too stand-out about this, but I guess you could try enjoying it. This achieved me a score of 92/100 in The Novelists' Guild (92 in idea, 92 in execution).
_______________________________________________________________________

-Behind You-

You stare into my eyes, fighting the urge to look away. Through your peripherals you can see that the room is white – is it even a room at all? You are shivering.

“Are you cold? Do you need a blanket?” you hear me wail as I crane my neck.

You reel back in your chair at the horror of my voice. You can** speak.

*Want some tea?”

I grin maliciously and you try to shout, but your lips remain in place. You are horrified by the white stumps that protrude from my gums; my jaws snap back into position and you jump.

You see me grab a kettle, gently pouring a brown substance into a dainty teacup. Your heart rate slows.

“Here you go,” I coo as you wiggle your tied arms. Your chair does not shift as you squirm.

I grin evilly again as I hold the teacup out. You stop floundering around and your heart rate quickens again as I drop the cup. It shatters on the floor, spilling the tainted water.

“Oh. Did I...”

You raise an eyebrow as I pause mid sentence.

“...scare you?”

You squirm in your chair again.

“You have beautiful eyes. My eyes are not beautiful like yours.”

You try to look away but you cannot. In realisation of how futile your actions are, you go into a panicked frenzy.

I laugh at you.

23-Jun-2011 12:38:43 - Last edited on 21-Jun-2013 15:13:28 by Borna Coric

Borna Coric

Posts: 3,785 Adamant Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile

“Oh, and don’t look behind you.”
You freeze. I freeze. Our eyes stay fixated on each other, locked in vicious combat.
“Look behind you and you’ll die,” I state calmly to you with a wry smile. You go into another craze.
You hear a voice in your head – it is deep and husky. Your eyes widen as it speaks to you.
“Don’t turn around, don’t look behind you. Don’t look at me or you’ll die. I will kill you if you turn around. Just...one...look...”
You freeze with fear. A gear whirs somewhere beneath you and your chair starts to turn in a clockwise direction. It moves slowly. The voice in your head continues.
“I will torture you forever if you look at me, just one glance. I am behind you, right here,” the voice teases as you blink furiously.
You have an epiphany. If you keep your eyes closed, you’ll avoid its stare. Your eyelids become clamps and they close tightly.
I laugh at you again.
“Open, open wide, you don’t want to miss this,* I taunt, and your eyes open gradually to reveal the white void once more.
You can no longer see me.
“It’s coming, coming on the wind! Slowly, slowly, crawling up on you! Tiptoe, tiptoe!” You hear me scream maniacally, my voice modulating up and down as if I were dancing on the spot.
You give one final effort, your limbs exploding in a flurry of movement.
“One glimpse and you’re dead...” the voice asserts once more to you, “just one.”
You clench your fists where they are locked into position and grit your teeth. A wave of shivers flows through your body, travelling up your spine and echoing through your skull.
A flash of red, and then you see black...
...Eternally.

23-Jun-2011 12:40:32 - Last edited on 12-Aug-2011 13:49:19 by Borna Coric

Borna Coric

Posts: 3,785 Adamant Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile

Another story written in second person, it was also submitted for the first round of Mitch's "Survivor Two" contest, placing me in the top two. It explores the mental instability of a man in a mental asylum, and you're position to empathise with him. The theme was to write about a character who does the opposite of what they are expected to do, and so I used the interpretation of a reflection in a mirror, looking at something quite dark, so to speak.
_______________________________________________________________________

-False Reflection-

“Stop staring at me.”
The other being does not avert his gaze.
“Stop staring at me.”
You grow more agitated upon the repeated demand, your continued glare penetrating the man’s skull. The two of you are motionless, captured in a frame; if it were a photograph, it would suit best in a thin, black border.
“I’m getting impatient...”
The fierce battle continues and you begin to tap your foot. The man never blinks.
“You win the contest, great work...stop staring at me now.*
You bring your arms, once rested casually at your sides, to your face, rubbing your eyes intensely. Opal tears run down your face, beads in the chandelier of the room – the mirror enhances the space of the area, accommodating a diamond-light of the highest carat.
You bring your arms back down and sigh. Raising your head, you begin to think about more important issues for the day ahead—
“Stop staring at me.”
You ensue biting your nails as you regain your eye-contact with the other man. Your peripheral vision begins to blur with a harsh vignette of the purest white, gradually fading in to the oceans of blue in the centre of the gladiator’s face. Anxiety takes you over.
Breaths getting shorter, you start to shout nervously at your combatant. A doppelganger, you decide.
“Why do you never leave this room? You are always here. You are always here...”
You commence a driven pace whilst tapping your head with your right hand. The other man follows you

23-Jun-2011 12:40:34 - Last edited on 07-Dec-2011 13:12:13 by Borna Coric

Borna Coric

Posts: 3,785 Adamant Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile

“Even when I close my eyes, you are here.” You pause in anticipation of a response. “Stop following me, and stop staring at me!”
You collapse onto the floor, quickly shuffling on your back into a corner of the room. Taking on the foetal position, you whisper a repeated phrase of reassurance to yourself.
“Fine, but when I leave, you’re coming with me,” the man responds casually.
You don’t look back but you know he’s staring at you. You can see him in your head.
“No, no! Leave me alone!”
You persist with fearfully ejected phrases in your secluded position, words slurring further and further as the minutes go by.
“I won’t lose my sanity! The doctors, they talk about my sanity. They talk about me, they do. I won’t lose my sanity!”
Your continued nonsensical phrases evolve into murmurs of terror as you cower. You still shield your face from the man’s stare.
“Oh, my silly friend...you can’t lose what you never had in the first place.”
He smiles – you know he did. Your rope snaps.
You erupt in a blood-lusted scream, charging the man with a knife...the knife that now rests in your chest.
Lying in a pool of red, you look up at the entity above you.
“Stop staring at me,” he says with a smile.
He, too, collapses on the ground opposite you. Silence.

23-Jun-2011 12:40:35 - Last edited on 27-Sep-2011 15:00:08 by Borna Coric

Borna Coric

Posts: 3,785 Adamant Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile

This was my entry to the 2011 Halloween Contest, Round One, and achieved me second place (runner-up in a 26% to 33% vote, made by a panel of ten forum moderator judges). The first paragraph, and notion of "sir" in the dialogue, is not of my writing, and was a requirement to be accepted. The contest was quite conforming genre-wise, but I managed to get in a bit of horror. There was also quite a strong push for RuneScape correlation, so the final twist is sloppy and not as well thought through as I'd have liked. Anyway, enjoy.
_______________________________________________________________________

-The Curse-

The warrior traversed over fallen trees and roots intertwining themselves across the cobblestone. This trip towards Draynor Manor would be quite the task, he thought to himself. Using his agile skills he'd attained throughout his knighthood, the warrior finally arrived at the front of the manor. The sight of house took his breath away. The warrior made his way up the steps, but before he could grasp the handle, the doors swung wide open. A deep, horrific voice spoke out to the warrior.

23-Jun-2011 12:40:37 - Last edited on 07-Dec-2011 13:13:30 by Borna Coric

Borna Coric

Posts: 3,785 Adamant Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile

"Sir, it’s far too cold to be out there. Come inside, come inside, come inside...”
The voice continued to repeat those two violent words, before transforming into a piercing scream. The warrior covered his ears with ferric hands, turning away fleetly; his eyelids crumpled like tin cans.
“You are cursed. Let this be a warning,” the voice spoke inside his head.
There was a moment of silence, characterised by the slightest creak of a wooden door. It was the type of ordinary sound that embellished any extraordinary circumstance. This was no exception.
The warrior opened his eyes to find a woman staring at him. She wore a simple white apron and shirt, and a simple white skirt with a simple white hat. An angel had descended upon the warrior – that’s what he decided. It was only then that he noticed the red cross on her hat.
Now, it is no difficult task to consider the four psychological vectors of a cross; the warrior could have been led in any direction. Perhaps his eyes would flutter to the heavens, where they could examine the diamonds in seas of coal. Maybe to the east, to be greeted by seemingly endless carpets of brown, and trees slightly akin to daggers in a decaying corpse. Possibly even to the west. So why was it that the warrior looked down, along the southern vector?
Why was she covered in blood?
The warrior’s angel was no longer of pure white, as at first, and a red bruise began to creep to the surface of her skin. Alongside the crimson liquid, a scream also awoke from its slumber, evaporating like a puddle on a scorched field.
The cross became invisible.
“It’s okay, I’ll help,” spoke the modulating voice of the warrior, who charged towards the now collapsed woman. Despite his triumphant calls, he saw the situation for what it was. Helpless.

23-Jun-2011 12:41:46 - Last edited on 07-Oct-2011 10:05:54 by Borna Coric

Borna Coric

Posts: 3,785 Adamant Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile

He elevated the nurse’s head with both arms as he kneeled beside her.
“I’ll make you as comfortable as I can.* The warrior never really understood that phrase. What was comfortable? Furthermore, what was the true intention behind those fateful words?
He hesitated as he stared into her clouding eyes, a longsword now hovering above her in a robotic arm. She was writhing as he held her. Eyelids as tin cans once more, the warrior tensed his arm.
“Stop!” screamed a terrified voice from below, limbs exploding in an erratic frenzy.
The warrior snapped his eyes open to reveal a woman in perfectly white attire staring at him as she gathered herself to her feet. The longsword fell to the ground, a cacophony of metallic sounds singing out as it hit the cobblestone.
The nurse ran away from the manor, shouting a few words. Out of them, it left one echoing in the warrior’s head.
“Murderer.”
Before she was out of sight, he vociferated a phrase, perhaps not even directed at the nurse.
“No, wait, but I was...”
He trailed off into random mumblings, getting to his feet while shaking his head. It was as if he forgot his place, succumbing to the questions that fired in his mind. The barrage ceased when he turned to face the house once more.
“You told me I was cursed,” the warrior asserted as he began to pace, “but that woman was the one who got hurt.”
He paused from speech, but was interrupted before he could resume when the doors of the house swung open once more.
“You are cursed,” bellowed the voice from the house once more. “I cursed you.”
The warrior snapped his head back to the direction of the door, his step faltering.
“No, you cursed the lady,” the warrior stated, a noticeable wavering in his tone.
“I merely wounded the woman. Should I have left her, she might have saved you.”
“Saved me from what?”
The house convulsed in what seemed to be a laugh. “From me.”

23-Jun-2011 12:41:47 - Last edited on 07-Oct-2011 04:16:51 by Borna Coric

Borna Coric

Posts: 3,785 Adamant Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile

The warrior peered over his shoulder before hurling himself towards the gate of the manor. A tree, seemingly dead in appearance, brought itself down upon him, crushing him into the pavement. A rivulet of blood oozed from his right leg, tainting the silver the armour that encased him as the tree resumed its original position.
“Are you curious as to what the curse is, sir?* the voice mocked as it emphasised the title, trailing off in a chuckle.
A sigh escaped from the warrior. Had it have been ejected forcefully, the weight would have made a crater in the earth.
“What is the curse?” he managed, slowly bringing himself back to his feet.
The resonant voice of the house seemed to clear what might’ve been a throat in an impertinent snicker. “Everything you touch,” it paused, building what it probably perceived as excitement, “is healed to full health.”
“That’s a ridiculous curse,” the warrior ejected harshly.
*That’s a ridiculous comment,” the voice retorted.
Ignoring the persiflage, the warrior muttered, “Hardly a curse at all.”
“To the nurse, perhaps it’s not, but think about it.” The house softened its tone, as if leaning in towards the warrior. “Really think about it...”
“I’m a warrior...”
“You’re a warrior!” it spoke in immediate response, once again raising its tone in excitement. “Some of my best work, don’t you think?”
A harsh wind began to blow across the barren landscape, bending the trees into awkward angles and causing the gate to swing closed, manufacturing a blast of tangible noise that joined the raging tempest. Several skeletal limbs started stabbing the surface from below, their intent clear to even the blinded warrior in his helmeted condition.
“Tell me it’s my best work and you can take refuge inside these walls,” the voice taunted, resuming the same mocking tone as before.

23-Jun-2011 12:46:15 - Last edited on 06-Oct-2011 04:23:12 by Borna Coric

Borna Coric

Posts: 3,785 Adamant Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile

The warrior shook his head profusely, his body now harvesting several cultures of fear.
An arm of a skeleton, severed just below the shoulder, wriggled towards the frozen warrior, grabbing onto the part of his armour that concealed his shin. A whirlwind surrounded the bony appendage and it grew into a fully skinned man, its sabre slicing merely air as the warrior thawed and ran towards the manor entrance, shouting, “It’s your best work.”
As the doors swung shut behind him, the warrior could have sworn that the house was laughing at him.
Silence.
It is said that humans feel the most vulnerable in the dark; they are trained from birth to avoid it. They sleep at night to avoid black, to only see the day. Lanterns are beacons of light, sources of hope. Their most fearful moments occur when they see nothing.
So why was it that that one speck of light down the hallway, the only thing the warrior could see, was the thing that scared him more than anything else in all of his life?
He stood there for what may have been eternity, staring at that one, arrowhead-sized ball of white, never blinking. It is feasible that it was no time at all. Then, as if it was the only thing he had ever seen move in his life, it glided toward him. There was no resistance, no defiance. The warrior simply stood there.
It was as if time did*’t flow, but the light, ever so slowly, continued to advance. The warrior waited. No time passed. Then the luminescent sphere was staring him the face.
“I am the voice of Draynor Manor,” it whispered to him candidly, “and I thank you.”
Contrary to the slow pace that the light previously displayed, it moved at great speed into the warrior’s helmet, turning his suit of armour into a giant lantern. The steel melted casually as the man took a new shape, the sound emitted not unlike that of a furnace smelting metals.
There was a final sense of numbness before the warrior rose.
Stolen.

23-Jun-2011 12:46:16 - Last edited on 16-Jun-2012 03:29:42 by Borna Coric

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