Monday, 21 July 2014

The Voice // A Short Story

The other day I was rummaging around some old files on my computer and found an old story I had written almost five years ago. I’ve always written short stories since I was just eight years old so it’s really interesting to see how my writing style has changed. After a lot of cringing and laughing at my work I finally plucked up the courage and decided to share it. At the same time I was a little disturbed about the fact it’s about devil worshipping and Satanists but then again I’ve always been oddly fascinated by dark and evil things. After taking a good look I found myself feeling extremely proud since I must have been only 11/12 and inevitably I feel like my writing has improved significantly - at least I hope so!

Silence, its pitch black. Crunch, crunch, crunch. I can sense someone approaching my house, coming closer and closer. Who is it? Someone did enter my house last night; someone did enter the room, the room where all my deadly sins come alive.
You might be thinking, what room? I wasn’t always like this; there was a time where I once was kind and caring, but that all changed. I’m sure you would like to know a lot more about me and my room, so let me tell you about my story.
Around ten years ago, I bought a brand new house on Tilly Hill. It was a two bedroom house, so it was reasonable for an old widow to live there. I had no friends, but I wasn’t lonely, I had my pet cat, Black. It was perfect, not a problem at all. That was before, I heard the voice, tempting me to start a life full of sins, I was told to become a Satanist.
So that was it, I had been so tempted to stop all of this, but it was too difficult. No one came to visit my house ever again; no one dared to even take a look. Everyone was scared of my house, everyone was scared of me. It didn’t bother me, I couldn’t care less. I had this one special room in my house, it was the library. I loved reading books, any type of book. That was before; the voice had told me to give up my books, to make that room into a worship room, to worship the devil. I did what I was asked to do.
For several years, I worshipped the devil in that one special room. Then came the night, the most terrifying night of my life. A group of teenage boys had decided to visit my house, and to find out what was in my room, what was the secret thing I was hiding from everyone.


So these boys entered my house, and foolishly entered the room. You see, in this room, I had kept these paintings. These weren’t normal paintings though, these were special paintings. When these boys entered the room, when they set their eyes on these paintings, they ended up in hospital. These paintings were so ugly, horrifying and disturbing that when someone sees them, they will end up going mental. They would have some problem, and then soon they would die. Something was different though, if you had died with seeing the paintings, you would always die smiling.
Rumours went round, talking about my house, my room. Others entered the room, saw the paintings and the same thing would happen to them. I kept on getting orders from the voice. The police came to search the house once, they were never normal again. I didn’t let anyone see me; I never went out in public. I never saw the voice either. Two years later, the house collapsed, and went up in flames. It was an accident of course, but somehow it felt as if it wasn’t an accident. The paintings were buried under all the ruins and of course I died. My body was left there, untouched; I was just a dead lifeless body rotting away. There was something else though, I was smiling.
I never heard the voice again, but then one night, I heard it. The voice said ‘Rest in peace, but I’ll be back again...’
That was my story about how I lived my life, and I was happy. I am now a spirit who haunts the ruins of the house. My cat, Black, wanders about, and I communicate with her. No one bothers to check out the ruins, everyone’s too scared. The voice still goes in and out of my head, telling me what to do and how to live my life. I agree with him, and do what I’m told. Yes, I am an old strange woman, and yes, I believe in the devil.

Thank you so much for reading! I would love to hear your thoughts on The Voice and if you would like to see some of my other short stories.

Hugs & kisses,
Nabeela x

No comments:

Post a Comment