April 19, 2009
By Grinn SILVER, Sydney, Other
Grinn SILVER, Sydney, Other
5 articles 0 photos 3 comments

I’ve decided to stop in a small village in the middle of the country for the night. The welcome sign, if it was a welcome sign, had violent, unrecognisable scrawl written all over it. In my 17 years of existence as a traveller, I have never seen a language like it. It’s most reminiscent of the language of the Tremblers, a savage, cannibalistic village deep in the marshes of Burgoo. The village itself is weird too. It’s like a ghost town, with nothing in sight.

Old, wooden houses line the sides of the thin streets. Light whispering fills the stale air. There is a sinister presence, and it seems to be following me. If there is one thing I learnt from my run in with the Tremblers, never show fear in the face of invisible danger. The fear gives the danger a chance to strike, and if it wasn’t for my incredible luck, I doubt I would have made it out of those marshes alive. I decided to set up camp under and old shed made out of broken down wood and old scrap metal.

It doesn’t seem like I’ll be getting any sleep tonight. If I was smart, I would have quickly left the small village before any trouble had been given a chance to start.

Though I doubt my hosts would have let me leave quietly.

I’m staring at the rusty ceiling of the shed, listening to the pitter-patter of rain outside. I hear breathing over the heavy rain, and sometimes, the shed shakes as if to remind me that I’m not alone. I hear a howl in the distance, and I jump. Bad decision. The shed shakes violently. My heart feels like it’s going to jump out of my chest. I grab the knife I keep in my left pocket, and I grip it tightly. Beads of cold sweat are forming on my forehead.

I hear large strips of scrap metal fall outside, and I know I’m done for if I don’t do something. I calm myself, breathing in and out deeply. The shaking gets less violent. These creatures are feeding on my fear, I think to myself. I decide that it’s my time to leave. I gather up my equipment as calmly as I can and slowly leave the shed. I manoeuvre the thin lines of pavement, trying to keep my mind off the footsteps and screaming behind me. After what seems hours, I reach the exit. I begin to take a step, when I feel a creatures breath on the back of my neck. I freeze in place. It’s do or die now-literally. I shakily take my next step only to feel a slimy finger run up my back. It sends jolts up my spine and I here myself let out a tiny scream. The finger stops, and starts digging into my back. The pain is incredible.

No, I think. I have to make it out of here alive. I take another step, and another. I feel 20, maybe 30 hands garb hold of my limbs, and I hear screams of pain. I take another step, and just like that, I’m out. The hands loosen their grip, and let go of me, I break into a run, tears running down my face, leaving the town and the screaming creatures behind me.

The author's comments:
This my first piece, so be nice.
It's inspired by creepy pasta, so it's meant to be kinda creepy. I hope you enjoy it.

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