"An Old Abandoned House"

                                                           By Princess-Bella Simon

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Walking down the hall in the empty, abandoned house, it's dark. I can't see much of anything, and my flashlight has flickered since I stepped into the house. I shouldn't have taken this job; I'm not even that skilled. I take a turn and trip over something wet and slimy. I can't get up; I can only look up and see this face so disoriented and bloody staring at me. It's so close to my face that I could lick it if I tried to. I can't even tell if it's a face; all I see are mouths and blood drooling from it.

1..2...5...9. I'm counting the mouths... I try getting up, but I can't. Is this how I die? I can't move; something is holding me down. The thing in front of me starts screaming. It sounds so inhuman; it's nothing I've ever heard before. I can't move. I can't say anything. My voice is stuck in my throat. Everything goes dark the next thing I know, and I think I'm unconscious. Did I die? I wake up upside down, hanging from something; it smells wrenched like something died and vomited everywhere. The only light eliminating the room is red; it's bright enough for me to figure out my surroundings. I don't get paid enough for this. I see other bodies hanging, but there are just like mine, mouth covers and these weird red bloody ropes. I don't even think they're ropes. The other body's organs are ripped out and thrown onto the ground. I try getting out, but I can't; I can't budge at all. I try to analyze my surroundings more, but I can't. I can't do anything but wait. What might happen to me? I might become a lab rat; I could be tortured; I could die; I could be sent to who knows where in this supernatural world. I do nothing but wait; I can't sleep; I feel hungry and thirsty, but I'm too grossed out to do anything; and the smell might make me throw up if I even could. I should've grabbed that bar in my van before coming in. This seems to be a level 10 haunting: I'm only skilled for a 6. I will die; I don't even think I have any of my materials with me. Something comes in, and I can't tell what it is; it's a tall, dark figure with no head and many limbs like a spider. It comes and cuts off the rope and holds me at my feet. The rope that holds me is alive. It started screaming, and all I heard was squelching from the cut. I still can't move but see the rope regenerating itself. I try moving, but the rope starts to crush me. I get put on a mortuary stretcher, covered in blood and other substances I can't make of. I get pulled into this room; it's cold; its atmosphere is different; my gut is telling me nothing but to run; I can't do anything; I start crying because that's what I can only do; and then I get injected with something in my neck, I and start seeing things that weren't there before. Wake up, I can't tell if it's a dream, and I'm back home with my cats and family.

There's no supernatural world; it's all normal. I don't live to save our lives through the supernatural. I wake up in agonizing pain; my head and whole body are hurting. I try to look at my surroundings and body, but my head gets slammed back to the table. My head is pounding; something is in here with me. It's above my head. I can't see it, but I can hear it breathing. Its unrhythmic breath sends chills down my spine. I get rolled into a room that seems like a testing room. They make me do all types of tests: jumping, running, stretching, and this weird type of walk, but they aren't pleased with the results. I get dragged into an isolated room; there's nothing in here, it's dark, and it smells horrible. I can't tell time; I can't keep track of it; there's no way of telling. I might die in here; why won't they just kill me? I fall asleep to get some energy to try and escape whenever I can; if I stay here any longer, I might go insane... I wake up. I'm not sure what's going on, but I'm in a different room. They added more of that drug to me before, but it wore off. I can feel everything they are doing to me: the sawing, the cutting, the scraping, and the moving things around. I can't move my body or scream; I'm wide awake. I might die from this, from all the blood loss. Every time I open my eyes, something new happens. I'm being moved; they are moving something in me. The last thing I saw before my head got decapitated was the doctor—the doctor that cures everyone from supernatural symptoms, the doctor that gives people hope, the doctor that said we would win this fight—the doctor that's my father; he's the one removing my head from my body. He's smiling while he does it.