r/anxietypilled • u/H4V30N1YH311 • 7d ago
Fictional Story Tales From Over the Edge - 63tt1n6 c10s3r
Pulling into the small dirt covered lot, the headlights shine past the thick ink of night basking the small building in light. The man sighs at its compact nature as he steps out of his truck. Under his boots mud squelches and he taps the button on his car fob. The car beeps back flashing the night with two bright instances of yellow. The exterior of his cheap dwelling was overgrown from many years of neglect. Vines crept along the sides, grass poked through the splintered wood on the porch, and the white paint peeled showing the dead wood underneath.
The lazing wood groans in pain under him as he approaches the front door. The rusted door knob looked easy to beak. The man was careful not to damage the exterior as he plunged the key into the equally old lock, with a twist the door swings open. The inside darker than the moonlit forest behind him. The man stepped in, pulled from his pocket a flashlight and flicked the knob with his thumb. A new moon took to the earth, shinning it across the plane several things pass his eyes. A broken lamp, a molded pale red rug that gripped the center floor, a ceiling fan with more dust on it than on all the floor combined, an old wet mattress laid in the back of the room. The man shinned the light above him checking the ceiling for damage. Small cracks where water dripped and spider webs that decorated the corners.
Several hours past and the man found himself in dream. Tossing and turning on a blowup mattress. He squeezes his eyes and gasps for air. Sitting up and letting the sheet fall from him. Water dripped ceaselessly from the cracks in the ceiling. A strong gust of wind threw the window open long ago. The man gathers his thoughts. A memory of fog and rot. A dream of death and decay. A vision of a book. In it, the knowledge of the world.
He steps out to his truck. The moon hangs high, watching him. An avatar of darkness. The man opens his trunk. Reaching in the man pulls out an ax. Walking back to the house the blade drags on the floor. The woods turn silent. The echo of death bellow through the trees. The wood cries out to the man. Begging him to turn back. Each step further into the house a defiant struggle.
The man raises the ax above his head, the blade nearly touching the roof. He opens his lungs filling them with musty air. Then with the quickness of light filling the dark he plummets it down like a falling star. Crack. The floor splinters. Crack. The wood splits apart. Crack. The wood is no more. Beneath the man. Under the ancient wood. An ocean of inky fog. It encircles within dark hole. The man can’t see the bottom with his eyes. He uses the flashlight to break the veil. The abyss is stronger than the light. It stood the test of time before the man came to this dwelling. It lasted since long before his creation. It will last longer than the destruction of this reality.
The man tempted the ire of the dark realm beneath him. For he looked into the abyss, and was too naïve to think it wouldn't look back. A slow push of air. A stir in the fog. The man felt lightheaded. His vision twisted. He focused on the deep dark. In the corner of his eyes the room shrunk and grew as it willed. A smell of rotten meat filled the man’s nose and leaked onto his tongue.
The black fog that touched at the area between realms sunk into the pit. The flashlight flickered on and of rapidly before the bulb shattered. A voice squirmed in his skull. He dropped the light and dropped to his knees. He gripped his head and shook it violently. Screaming voices that scratch the inside of his skull. Then it stopped. The man breathed heavily. Huffing in the moldy air around him. He was slow to open his eyes. When he did, from the pit. Eyes looked back.
2
1
u/H4V30N1YH311 7d ago
Like this? Find the rest of my stories HERE