The Horrifying Night

November 8, 2016
By Anonymous

I opened my eyes to complete darkness. All I can remember is the dog running out into the road, the brightness of the daylight, and my car headed off of the road. As my head clears, I realize that I am hanging upside down. My feet and legs are completely immobilized, and I can hear something breathing in the room. I looked around. It seemed chilly inside. I wondered how I got here. It didn't make any sense. Why would I be here? And who is in here with me?

I then yell, "Who is there?" No one seems to answer. I guess they are...

The sound of scuffling steps heads towards me. I hear a BONG! Now I am awake again. It seems as though I was put out. Whoever is keeping me here doesn't want me to talk or know that someone is in here. The room seems to be a cellar. I can't make out the color, after all, there is no light. I must be underground somewhere. Maybe there is a district or something that is held underground. Maybe the people here hate me. They have to. Why else would I be here? I feel like an animal that has been trapped. I can't move, and I am so hungry. I can't remember the last time I ate. It has been a few hours, no it has been about ten or more. I am so tired, and exhausted I decide to try and sleep.

The next few hours I wake up several times and dream the same night mare. There is someone breathing in the room. Wait! That is what happened when I first woke up to see that I was hung. The man in the cellar seems to get closer and closer. I wonder if that is happening in real life. I realize that he is looking at me curiously. I am going to try and not fall asleep until I get this person figured out. Or is it a person? Whatever the thing is, I am going to find out. I definitely don't want to be killed in my sleep. Is this creature the person responsible for knocking me out all of those times? Why is he looking at me while I am asleep? What does he want from me? Maybe to control my mind, and do what? Okay, I need to stop worrying and try and figure it out with all of the information that I have. So this man or creature whatever it is, doesn't want me to talk. It doesn't want me awake, so it. . .wants me. . .dead. That has to be the case. Why else would it knock me out all of those times? I'll bet the creature wants to control me by first controlling my dreams.

I have all of these thoughts racing through my mind when I break my urge to speak. "What do you want from me?" I yell. Now I have a lump in my throat. The breathing seems to increase rapidly. Is the creature scared? It must be. Why else would it be scared? Then I hear a rough cough as though he is spitting out a hairball. Instead of hair, it is blood. What has happened to him? I wish I was at home, in my small apartment. And life was normal. . .wait a second! I remember that coughing! My grandpa did that right before he died. I don't know how regularly he did, but I saw my grandpa cough out blood on our porch.

It was sad that he died. He was closer to me than my dad, who is always traveling and didn't make it to anything special I did. I was twelve then, and remember the day clearly. My grandfather had been going a crazy all day. He even had the same symptoms as the creature. I bet he doesn't have much time to live. Was he hung before like I am? If he did, how did he escape, and how is he still alive? I wonder if I'll get it. Is that why they took me here? And why they are trapping me in this cellar? What are these people planning on doing to me?

The next few hours or so I am still processing the information. I am fighting myself to get the confidence to speak to it again. When I snap to reality, I realize how hungry I am. I feel so starving, that I might die of dehydration and hunger. My sleepiness seems to take over me again, and I find myself waking up with the same night mare. What is wrong with me? Why do I think of hunger and then fall asleep? I see the creature hanging over my face AGAIN!

"What are you doing?" I instantly ask when I see him. He started walking away slowly. "Wait! Really, what are you doing." I hoped this time he would answer. I wanted company and someone to talk to.

"Um. . . you were screaming things to someone. I ran over to see what was the matter." He said in his low scratched voice, then walked into the dimmed light. "You were yelling for food. . .I don't want you to stay here hung upside-down. I want to help you get down."

"How? What is this made of anyway? Do you know anything about why we are being kept here? I mean I figured out why you are here. I mean you were coughing and all. . .well, my grandfather did that before he died. But why am I here?" I figured he wasn't following me when he started.

"First of all, I think that with this wire I pried from the wall, that I could sharpen it against the metal walls, and well cut it. Second, that just proves why you are here. You see, since you witnessed the coughing, you can get the virus. It seems to be a rather strange and yet unusual virus that spreads through the air. Only the person that was there when the symptoms occur, which is you, then it spreads. You undoubtedly have it." He states.
"So how did this come to be a virus, where did it start?" I question.

"The legend says that a scientist came to this town from another country. He wanted to test some kind of mixture on rats. It turned out to be a major problem, and the rats went mad. They say they finished him off, and each other. And only one survived. That rat mated with another normal rat, and the disease is carried on, and so forth. How the disease was carried to humans, I don't know, but you will soon enough get the symptoms."
"Did you witness any kind of this virus? How did you get it?" I didn't think he'd answer to this one. He probably doesn't want to talk about it.

"I was bitten by a rat when I was camping with my older brother and his family. Yeah, it was worse than how you got it." I thought I saw him frown a little after he said that.

"I'm sorry. That must've been terrible. Being bitten is bad, but getting the virus that way is bad too." I felt so sorry for him, and then I remembered I didn't even ask him what his name was.

"It's okay. I mean no one can help it." The boy mumbled.

"Hey, what is your name? We're going to see each other for a while. . ."

"My name's Benjamin Groff. You can just call me Ben for short. . .what's yours?" Ben questioned with curiosity. He looked at me with those gray eyes, and the same look he gave me when I woke up all of those times.
"Shara Beck. You can call me Shar or Sharry. My dad calls me Shar. . .you can just call me Shara." I stammered.
"Oh, okay. Cool name by the way. Your name is different and I like it. Hey, I know I'm not supposed to ask girls their age, but how old are you?" Ben seemed a little scared in asking this. I didn't want to get too personal if you know what I mean. We just met, and I barely know him.

"It's okay, I'm twenty, as of last month. How old are you?" I actually really wanted to know. I couldn't exactly see him.

"I am twenty-two, and in case you were wondering, I've had this virus for three years."
"That is terrible. I don't know how long my grandfather had it, but, I'm sorry to say this. Well. . . you might not live very long. Unless there is a cure, that is." I want to know if there really is a cure for this unique virus.
"I don't know much. I was put in here a couple weeks ago. I was walking to my mailbox after work, and that is all I can remember. If there is a cure, I hope we can find one. I'll try and cut you loose tomorrow. We don't want to die. . ." He started coughing again, and he started walking back towards the bench-like board that was sticking out of the wall, and he laid down. I decided to try and sleep, I don't know how long I've stayed hung here, but for some reason, I was really tired.

The next morning, I woke to loud beeping noises. "Ben? Ben?" I yelled. I could hear coughing, and hoped he was okay. Gray, thick fog escaped through vents along the walls. I looked around, and for the first time, I saw the whole cellar. It wasn't big at all. Of course, there were only two dimmed lights, and no windows. Whoever is keeping Ben and me here doesn't want us to escape.

Just then, I heard a loud POOSH noise, as though a tennis ball can's seal was being broken. Thousands of rats poured out from what looked like tunnels in the wall. They had red eyes, and some ran towards Ben, while the others sprinted like lightning had struck, towards me. I could feel their teeth gnawing at my hair, as they made their way up to my body. I screamed, and yelped as they bit through my clothes, and bit my skin. They smelt like mildew and molding bread. They obviously had food here, and they most likely were digging through the trash. Whence they knew I had been bitten, they ran down. The bad news was that they had given me the virus, but the good news is that they were leaving, and that one of them had bitten the rope or wire with their razor-sharp teeth. I now know why they were running. I was falling to the floor. I could hear the rope scream as it was tearing strand by strand. I stumbled to the cold, smooth ground, and couldn't get up, so I decided to yell.
"Ben?" He didn't answer, or even make a noise. I then noticed how badly the rats had hurt me. I was spewing out blood from my bicep, and it felt like I had been stabbed by a knife. I managed to tear off a piece of my shirt with all of the strength I had left, and I tied it around my arm. I then saw the rat army attacking Ben. He was being badly cut and I knew then, he wasn't going to live. His face looked like a ghost, and it didn't look like the man who had hit me in the head with a club.

Ben was gone. I bet he lived a good life, with all that he had. So this is what they do to the virus-infected people. They make them suffer the pain and agony, given by starvation, and the rats tearing you apart. I was kidnapped. Hopefully, the cops will come soon. The people or person who run this place don't know that I am dead. Wait. They do know. They must. How did they know Ben wasn't dead? There doesn't seem to be any cameras, but they're most likely hidden.

The man who knocked me out, was in here while I was sleeping. Maybe he is the person controlling my dreams. Now, that they infected me, they've totally ruined my life. I've been kidnapped also. No one knows where I am. No one saw my car going off the road. Why would they be controlling my dreams?
"Shara why are you thinking about me, when you could be thinking about your family." That's it! It's the man! He must be the scientist! Ben doesn't look like him. He's old, and wrinkly. . .

"So you've finally figured out who I am. I see you've met the poor little man, who suffered to death."

"How do you know what I am thinking about!" I yell before I realize, he can read my brain.

"You know I can control you now. While you slept all that time, I figured out your brain code, and how you think. I figured out your life, and where your family lives, and about your family too. Yes. This is what I've wanted. To find your weak spot. . . and finish you off. . . I feel I have already ruined your life. What fun would it be to mentally take control over you."

"You will never find out where he lives, and you won't ever finish me off." I think madly.

"We'll see. I'll let you sleep, and maybe I'll. . .because you'll never figure out who I truly am. . ." And I drifted off to sleep. In my dream, he found my dad, and then sent people to kill my family and friends. It seemed so real. He used my dad as bait, and killed him right at the spot. So this is what he does. He controls people until they can't do anything about it. What does this have to do with me and the virus? Well, I started going crazy and I felt like I was turning into a rat. Before my dad's tragic death, I spent a few hours with my father. My dad said I was acting like a rat, and for some reason, I wanted to kill him. After the scientist took me out, he killed my dad. I felt as though I had lost hope. I watched the evil little rats devour him. I didn't have any reason to live. The mad scientist is going to take control over other people, and maybe kids. He has the rats. I then made a deal to myself. I wasn't doing down without a fight. Maybe there is no cure for the virus. Maybe the only solution is to die. Think about all of the lives that were lost, due to the mad scientist. He is the reason for nightmares. He creates them by hacking into your brain, and using your fears. Why he decided to create a virus, I don't know. He is truly mad, and all of these years faking his death, he found out a way to control people. I was going to try and finish him. I failed, but I fought that old little man until my death. . . He wasn't the scientist after all, but merely his brother who pitied him. He is a different person, who will live to mentally control people, and someone who I couldn't defeat.

Similar Articles


This article has 0 comments.


MacMillan Books

Aspiring Writer? Take Our Online Course!