Jul19

Pete’s Folly Part 1 (A Horror short story)

Just a little horror short story I wrote to improve my writing and practice. This is part 1, part 2 will come after I’m finished editing it.

October 4th, 2013

 

“Hey everyone, it’s Pete again. Welcome to my ghost hunting Youtube channel. Umm, so yesterday I tried to do some stupid seance crap to try to talk to a ghost. Mainly my mother, God bless her soul. And uh… well it obviously didn’t work.”

 

Pete stared into the webcam, his weary blue eyes were hidden behind locks of scraggly blond hair. He looked lost, like a soul floating on an ocean of mediocrity. He gathered his thoughts and continued to speak into the webcam.

 

“I’m starting to think that ghosts don’t exist. I’ve made a video of every attempt I’ve made to summon a ghost and I got nothing. I’ve googled so much shit, that I can’t type in the search box without something from the occult turning up. Hey FBI guys, just as an FYI I’m not trying to kill anybody here.”

 

He takes in a deep drag from his cigarette and blows smoke off to the side. The burning ash filled the corners of his spartan apartment. He tapped the end of his smoke stick on the edge of a nearby ashtray. He put down his cigarette, and turned in his chair. It creaked as he reached for something hidden out of view. The kitchen ambience flickered through the video feed of the webcam, the fluorescent lighting cast a green hue throughout the room. Pete leaned back into the view of the camera and brandished a Ouija board. He smiled and raised his eyebrows as he wiggled the “game” back and forth.

 

“I’m gonna be honest, this is the last time I’m gonna try to contact a ghost. It’s too boring waiting around for something to happen. A lot of people seem to believe these Ouija boards can open a gate to hell or some ridiculous shit.” He looked at the Ouijia board with a skeptical look across his face. “I dunno, I dunno.” Pete looked back at the camera and excitedly said, “Well, let’s find out!”

 

He grabbed his cigarette and sucked on it until the paper burned away. He jammed the nub of the cigarette into the ashtray and grabbed the webcam from its watchful perch. The camera lulled about as if sailing through a hurricane, refusing to settle down until it was placed on the kitchen table. Pete struggled for a few minutes to get the camera to focus, its vision constantly shifted from blurry to clear as if looking through the machine at the optometrist office.

 

The camera finally focused its image just as Pete disappeared into a different part of the apartment. The camera sat at the kitchen table, staring into a blank wall for a lonely eternity. The sound of Pete’s footsteps rang through the corridor, followed by the sound of wood furniture scraping across the floor. Pete’s hands would appear in the frame from time to time as he dispersed homogeneous candles throughout the kitchen table.

 

Pete ignited each candle one by one with his lighter. He lowered his head into the frame and stared directly into the camera. “Don’t smoke kids.” He vanished one last time from the frame and turned off the kitchen lights. The candles were so bright, that stretched out lens flares spread across the screen. Pete sat down at the table, his face now orange in color. The shadows danced around his nose and jaw as he stared into the Oujia board in front of him.

 

“All right, I doubt this is gonna to do anything, but I’m out of ideas at this point. Hopefully… maybe I’ll get a knock or something, but I really don’t think anything’s gonna happen. Sorry guys.”

 

Pete placed his fingers onto the planchette and sat at the table for a few moments in silence. He became lost in thought and ignored the camera for a solid three minutes. When he came out of his trance, he looked at the camera and said, “Oh sorry. Was trying to think of what I want to ask. All right… here we go. Is there anyone here with me right now?”

 

Pete fell silent and waited for the planchette to move. A few seconds passed by and Pete’s fingers started to move with the planchette. He spoke each letter aloud.

 

“D.

 

“I.

 

“E.”

 

Pete stared at the camera in shock, horrified by what he was seeing. He allowed a few seconds to pass before turning his frightened expression into cheeky laughter. “Just kidding guys, that was me.” He cleared his throat. “Are there any spirits present with me right now?”

 

The room fell silent, only his quiet breathing accompanied him. The sound of metal pots shifting suddenly rang through the kitchen, causing Pete to jump in his seat . He covered his face with one hand and said, “Holy shit.” He shook his head and smiled towards the camera. “That scared the shit out of me. Sorry guys, I did the dishes earlier and didn’t put the pots away.” Pete bellowed a deep sigh and said, “Okay, let’s try this again without any interruptions. Are there any spirits present with me right now?”

 

The quiet returned once more with only the ambient sound of a heating unit to keep him company. Pete looked around the room while both hands remained placed on the planchette. He waited for several minutes, hoping for a response that wasn’t caused by his own doing. When nothing happened, he felt disheartened. The candle wax continued its slow melt into nothingness, and Pete found himself becoming frustrated with the expected turn of events.

 

“If there are any spirits here, please give me a sign. Move something, anything.”

 

If “nothing” were a humanoid being, it would be cackling at Pete’s failed attempts..

 

“Sorry guys, looks like tonight is going to be another dud. It’s about 12 in the morning right now, and I’m not seeing any chance of something happening.” He looked out into the blackness and yelled, “Is there anyone here with me right now? Please, do something, say something.”

 

The only thing that said anything to Pete, was nothing at all, the silence of his loneliness.

 

“Are you fucking scared huh? You scared to come out and do anything? Of course, typical! Of course nothing’s gonna to happen,” he raved. “You’re not real, ghosts aren’t real, none of that after life bullshit is real. God and the Devil, none of them are real!”

 

The sound of a body dropping on the floor tumbled somewhere in his apartment.

 

“What the fuck?”

 

He grabbed the wireless webcam and started towards the apartment corridor. He turned the hallway light on, which flickered to life and filled the area with a sickly green hue. The camera bounced inside his hands as he moved around, ever watchful of anything being amiss. He looked inside the bathroom, but there was nothing, just an empty toilet and dark shadows lingering within the room. He checked the bedroom, but only saw his messy bed. Ironically, his clothes were folded neatly in a pile.

 

Finally, he checked one more spot in his very small apartment–the closet. The door sat ominously at the end of the hallway; as if it were a portal into another dimension. There was nothing particularly striking about the door, it was white and slender with a brass knob. It was as it appeared. Just a damn door, Pete thought. But he couldn’t shake the foreboding feeling emanating from it.

 

He placed his hand on the knob, his other hand holding the camera. The circular handle was cool to the touch, the metal was worn and poked his skin. He opened the door slowly– a hard hat fell over the top shelf, his shoulders jumped with a bolt of energy. He looked down at the floor and saw his work clothes sprawled across his feet, he breathed a sigh of relief.

 

After picking up his orange safety vest and placing his clothes on the hanger; Pete did a quick survey of the room and walked back to the kitchen. He turned off the lights and placed the webcam back on the table. He leaned in towards the glow of the candles and said to the camera, “Well, looks like my clothes fell. Not really proof of supernatural activity, sorry viewers. I’m gonna try one more time to communicate with a ghost and then call it a night.”

 

Again he placed his fingers on the planchette and said aloud, “Is there anyone here that’s willing to speak to me?”

 

Again he waited for a response, but the planchette didn’t move and there was nary a peep heard. He let out a deep sigh and prepared to put away the Oujia board when… the oracle began to glide beneath his fingers. He looked at the camera with an expression of I’m not doing this strewn across his face. He began to say aloud the letters that were being spelled out on the board.

 

“Y

“E

“S.”

 

“Yes. Yes?” Pete muttered under his breath, “Oh shit.” He wasn’t sure what to do, he held his fingers over the oracle and stared blankly into the board. “Why didn’t you just move my fingers over the yes response?” he asked.

 

There was no answer.

 

“Umm… uh, what’s your name?”

 

“S

“A

“M.”

 

“Sam, I’m Pete. Are you a friendly ghost?”

 

This time he moved the planchette over to the yes answer. The response made Pete smile and thus, gave him a bit more courage to speak with the spirit.

 

“Could you move something to prove that you’re there?”

 

A moment passed, then a candle began to wobble. Pete recognized what was happening, but was delayed in stopping the candle from tipping over. The candle stick rolled on the surface of the table, tempting the flame to jump off its wick leash and onto the fake wood plane. Pete managed to grab the candle before anything could catch on fire.

 

Pete chuckled to himself and said, “Alright guys, it looks like we’re finally getting some ghost activity. I can’t believe this, I can’t believe I’m recording all of this.”

 

Pete became delirious with excitement. Finally he had video proof that ghosts exist. He didn’t know how to contain himself, he was giddy and smiling, clapping his hands. He was just so happy to get a response from beyond the grave.

 

Pete asked the spirit, “Sam, are you a man or a woman?”

 

“G-I-R-L.”

 

“A girl? How old are you?”

 

“1-2.”

 

For some reason, Pete didn’t quite believe what he was being told. He felt this strange coldness touch the skin of his arm, but when he looked, there was nothing but goosebumps.

 

“Are you really twelve? I’m not sure I believe you Sam.”

 

There was silence, then, the crash of a plastic container hitting the linoleum floor. Pete’s head darted to see where the container had landed, but there was nothing. The container that he thought had fallen over was still sitting on the counter. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you,” Pete said. The planchette began to move again.

 

“MAY I COME OVER?”

“Come over? Come over to do what, Sam?”

“PLAY.”

“Aren’t you already here?”

“YES.”

“So why do you need my permission?”

“BECAUSE.”

“Because why?”

“DO YOU HAVE FRIENDS?”

 

Pete bristled at the question. His apartment hinted at the kind of life he lived and friends were not a part of it. “Of course I have friends.”

 

“WOULD YOU INVITE THEM OVER IF THEY ASKED?”

“Of course.”

“WOULD YOU INVITE ME OVER?”

“Yes–I mean, if you were real. You could come over and hang out.”

 

The temperature of the room suddenly dropped. Pete could feel the icy cool grip of frosted air nipping at his skin. He looked around the apartment and saw the mist of his breath puffing in front of him. He scanned the apartment and felt that the room had become darker, despite the candles still burning beside him..

 

“Sam?” He called out.

 

The sound of a little girl’s laughter came from his bedroom. But it was distorted, like a woman laughing in an insane asylum. It echoed within itself, unnatural, inhuman.

 

There was a shudder in Pete’s voice, “What the fuck was that?” This time the noise couldn’t be explained by improper placement of personal belongings. He grabbed the webcam and walked over to the hallway leading into the bedroom. He turned on the light and saw that the closet door was open. He could have sworn that he had closed it prior. He hesitated as he peered inside the closet.

 

Nothing.

 

An odd creaking trickled in his ears,  he was afraid to look, he felt threatened. Pete listened to the sound of a knob turning, he could feel the slight change in air pressure as the door glided open. But he wasn’t anywhere near the bedroom entryway. Pete could feel the terror clawing at his insides. It started from the pit of his stomach, and spread into his chest, electrocuting his heart with fear.

 

Reluctant, he softly pulled the door and peered into the bedroom. It was in the same state as he had left it, except for one thing. He caught a glimmer from the corner of his eye, there was something… an item, shimmering on the carpet floor. It had a rectangular silhouette and was very narrow and slender; it appeared as though it were made of steel or silver. He stepped foot into the room, the phantom laugh of a girl cackled all around him. Fuck, he thought, as he debated fleeing. But he had to know what the item was. A part of him didn’t even believe that what was happening was real, and he took comfort in that delusion. Chills travelled down his spine as he bent over and lifted the metal object into his hands.

 

“A crucifix?” he whispered. He stared into the metal representation of Jesus and suddenly felt a sharp pain in his palm, like a razor slitting his skin. He dropped everything and grabbed onto his hand. Blood gushed from his wound, drenching his fingers in red liquid. He looked at the cross while clutching his hand and saw a dagger in place of the stem on the cross. The face sculpted into the statue began to bleed. “Oh Jesus,” he said as his voice shuddered with fear. He grabbed the webcam and recorded footage of his lacerated palm. He said, “What the fuck is going on?” before being interrupted by the sound of giggling. The little girl’s laughter began to mutate, transforming into a deep, bellowing, beastial laugh. The laughter began to multiply as a chorus of skull demons entered the plane of reality. The monstrous laugh morphed into that of an old man, not weak, but crisp and strong. When Pete felt a hand grasp at his shoulder, he ran out of the door and straight into the kitchen.

 

To his horror, the kitchen was pitch black. He knew that he left the candles on before leaving, who turned them off? His body was visibly shaking, his hand trembled as it searched for the light switch on the wall. When he felt the familiar protrusion resting in the off position. His fingers fondled the switch with trepidation. He couldn’t see anything -he needed to see- he had to turn on the lights. He flipped the switch and screamed when he saw the words, “DIE! DIE! DIE!” smeared all over the kitchen written in blood. “Oh fuck!” he screamed. The screeching sound of a woman being murdered rang through his ears. He ran over to the kitchen table and scrambled to find his car keys. But before he could reach his keys, a tray of eating utensils flew across the room.

 

He shielded his face as the gust of wind blew past his arm. The sound of knives, forks, and spoons crashing against each other sent fear throughout Pete’s extremities. When he felt the coast was clear, Pete attempted once again to retrieve his keys. But a strange, pained, groaning hurled from the stove. He looked in its direction and saw the stove ignite by itself, sending a pillar of flame straight into the ceiling. The moaning of tortured screams and malicious whispers filled the tiny apartment with the evil desires of demons. “Fuck this shit!” Pete yelled. He dropped the webcam and fled from his apartment. The camera lay on its side as if it were a dead man staring into the nether, watching Pete run for his life. The sound of him banging on the door yelling, “Help! Open the door!” boomed throughout the apartment.

 

Pete walked back into frame, pacing around the kitchen in a panic. The fire from the stove had died down, but he was trapped inside of his own apartment. “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit,” he repeated. He grabbed a chair and threw it at the window, only to realize that the windows were boarded up. “What the fuck!” he yelled as he ran up to the boarded windows and tried to pull the wood free.

 

“Ha, hA, HA, ha, Ha.”

 

The sound of demons speaking in tongues licked the inside of Pete’s ears. The walls of the apartment began to shake, as if the demons were influencing the structure with their voices. Pete screamed and covered his ears, hoping to block out the evil that was torturing him. But their unintelligible words were already inside his mind, corrupting his thoughts with images of murder, cannibalism, and torture. Suddenly Pete’s body was lifted into the air. Tears of blood poured from his eyes as a ghastly voice said aloud, “My nAmE iS SAmmAeL. yOu BeLonG tO mE.”

 

Pete’s body hovered into the hallway. He screamed as his body floated into the pitch black corridor until his voice gave out. When he disappeared from the camera frame, the sound of flesh being torn by teeth filled the room. The video sat there for several seconds more until there was silence. The candle gyrated in the background until the video cut to black.

Wilmar Luna
Latest posts by Wilmar Luna (see all)