Lost Signal (Horror short story)
Lost signal (full story line)
He spun around sharply.
Rushing towards him was a dark figure, cloaked in black. The figure didn’t have any distinguishing human features and seemed to thrive and change shape as it glided nearer. Ribbons of darkness streamed behind him that, soon after, dissolved into nothingness. As it grew nearer, a wall of freezing cold air his Chris. He tried to move but found himself paralysed with fear. He managed to stifle a scream moments before the creature loomed over him, seemingly enveloping his whole body. Chris felt as if his blood had been turned to liquid ice that was eager to expand and brake free of the vessels that carried it. Absolute darkness overcame him. Then. Peace.
‘It’s not my fault I’m not going to make it!’
‘But you promised! Its James birthday, you have to be there!’
‘Well I’m not going to be, it’s scuppered, and the engine won’t even start’
‘Hmm, what time are you likely to be back then?’
‘Probably about … **** signal lost!’ Chris threw his phone down in disgust, opened the door of his 1.6 litre Audi A3, and stepped out into the cold, misty night. Taking in his surroundings, Chris sighed as he realized the task that stood before him. Scanning the seemingly impenetrable forest in front of him, he caught a glimpse of a distant, blurry light. With nothing else to go on, and in desperate need of a phone, he set of towards the light through the oak trees that seemingly enveloped him as he crossed the tree line.
Briskly, Chris made his way through the dense forest, heading directly for the light. In his rage, Chris marched on oblivious to the area that surrounded him. Crashing through some branches that blocked his direct route to the light, he upset a nesting pheasant that flew screeching and wailing into the night. He didn’t bat an eyelid. Now approaching the light Chris could vaguely make out a old warn looking wall with a gap in the middle that, when he got closer, turned out to be a grand entrance to what looked like a drive way. This confused Chris as surrounding the outer wall there was nothing but trees and there was no evidence of a road ever joining up to the driveway. Discarding this thought quickly Chris walked through the gap in the wall, past two, large, rusted gates that lay wide open and proceeded along the drive way.
Not long after entering the driveway Chris came across the sauce of the light. It had turned out to be an old fashioned, black lamppost that stood on the side of the driveway. On the lamppost there lay a copper plaque that read ‘welcome to Salt Soling house, built 1864’. Passing this lamppost Chris righted a bend in the driveway and there, looming out of the darkness stood a huge Victorian house, painted white with dozens of dark wooden beams streaking down the sides of it. Taken aback, Chris paused for a second to take in the house that stood before him before making his way across the gravely ground towards the entrance to the house. Reaching the door he stretched out and grabbed the lions head door knocker and slammed it agenised the solid oak door several times, the sound ringing out into the wood behind him, shattering the otherwise silence with every knock.
He paused.
No answer.
Turning his attention to the front windows he realised that there where lights on in the house. Walking over to one of these he peered through the smoky glass but couldn’t see any signs of life. As Chris was still agitated he marched back round to the front door. Reached out for the handle and twisted. The door swung open.
Now, more tentatively Chris entered the house and gently pushed the door shut behind him. ‘Hello? ... Is anyone in? He enquired. When there was again no reply it suddenly dawned on Chris the situation he had got himself into and also the fact that he hadn’t taken a baring before heading of away from his car so there were no sure way he would find his way back even if he wanted to. Mid way through having this thought he heard a loud thump from upstairs and was suddenly alert again. ‘Hello?’ Chris asked again but still no reply. Fearing that the owner of the house may have had an accident upstairs Chris set of towards the dark wood spiral stare case and began to make his way up. The staircase was old and creaky but like everything ells in the house it seemed to be well looked after for its age. Mid way up the stare case Chris noticed a rectangular peace of crumpled paper on one of the stares. Intrigued he picked it up and began to inspect it.
Why had state warrior been underlined?
Thinking nothing of it Chris placed the piece of paper down on a windowsill next to two old fashioned pictures and continued to climb the stairs. As he reached the top of the stares a howl sounded throughout the house and a cold breeze brushed across Chris’s face. Chris guessed this was normal of a house of this age and continued up onto the landing. He turned a corner onto a long, dark corridor. Peering down this corridor Chris could make out an open door at the end. Coming from within this room was the flickering light of a fire and also subtle ribbons of light from the moon that streamed in from a window directly in front of the open door. Silhouetted agenised this light was what looked like a man sat in a chair, back facing Chris, looking out of the window. Slowly and cautiously Chris approached the room. ‘Hello? Sir? May I borrow a phone? ... sir?’.
Chris was now at the entrance to the room and could see that the man was old and sat on a rocking share that was slowly moving back and forth. As the man had still not replied Chris Reached out to shake the man by his shoulder. However in doing so Chris noticed a badge that was sewed onto the man’s military jacket. The badge read ’Cpt. John M Piles’.
Chris froze.
What name was on the certificate he had picked up?
Not knowing what ells to do Chris reached over the man’s shoulder, grabbed his arm and checked the man’s pulse.
He was dead.
At this moment a chorus of piercing, ear splitting shrieks tore down the corridor behind him.
Chris spun around sharply.
Rushing towards him was a dark figure, cloaked in black. The figure didn’t have any distinguishing human features and seemed to thrive and change shape as it glided nearer. Ribbons of darkness streamed behind him that, soon after, dissolved into nothingness. As it grew nearer, a wall of freezing cold air his Chris. He tried to move but found himself paralysed with fear. He managed to stifle a scream moments before the creature loomed over him, seemingly enveloping his whole body. Chris felt as if his blood had been turned to liquid ice that was eager to expand and brake free of the vessels that carried it. Absolute darkness overcame him. Then. Peace.
Now Chris just sits still, looking out of a smoky window that overlooks a wood made up of oak. And occasionally, very occasionally. He will hear the defining shrieks come from behind and... he will know...
this has also been made into a short film as part of my AS media if anyone is interested in watching it ill send you a link :) and constructive criticism is welcome :)
