Lost to the Darkness
Keep the door shut; keep the evil locked away
There was only one rule: don't open the door. In case we forgot, it was secured shut with a rusty old padlock with no key. But, we never considered opening it, not after seeing the terror in Grandpa's eyes when he told us not to. We knew there was evil enclosed in that cellar.
None of us were anywhere near the padlocked door when it happened. We were all on the other side of the room when the quiet evening was shattered by the metallic clunk of the padlock hitting the wooden floor. In unison, we turned with wide eyed horror at the eerie creaking squeal of unoiled hinges as the forbidden door opened itself.
Scrambling as fast as we could to the furthest corner, we watched as darkness oozed out of the yawning maw like thick tar swallowing all the light and hope that remained in the room. There was no way out. Instinctively I grabbed Jakey's hand knowing he's always been there to protect me. Then I wrapped my other arm around little Jenny, pulling her close to keep her safe, as the darkness engulfed us all.
I felt Jakey's hand whither to bone and crumble to dust. In a panic, I tried to pull Jenny closer but she collapsed and slipped through my fingertips like grains of sand.
A heartrending shriek leapt from my soul and pierced through the suffocating darkness chasing it back into the cellar and slamming the door shut behind. When the light returned I found myself alone, sobbing in a pile of ash. I will never understand why the darkness took my cousins and not me.
I just pray that door never opens again.
About the Creator
A. J. Schoenfeld
I only write about the real world. But if you look close enough, you'll see there's magic hiding in plain sight everywhere.
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More stories from A. J. Schoenfeld and writers in Horror and other communities.
The Old Crone in the Mirror
The mirror showed a reflection that wasn't my own. It couldn't be me. My mind cried in pain as I tried to comprehend what I saw before me. The woman staring back at me wore the same purple sweater, golden teardrop earrings, and oval pendant necklace as I did. She even had the same heart-shaped face, dimpled chin, and high cheekbones. Her deep set blue eyes had the same flecks of turquoise, long eyelashes, and arched brows. Like me, she had her hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun. But her skin hung loose around her chin and sunk in a bit too much below her cheekbones. Creases spread like spider webs at the edges of her tired eyes and lined her high forehead. Silver streaked through her curly black hair. The woman in the mirror had clearly lived decades longer than me. Seeing myself aged beyond my years made my heart race and I gasped for breath as I stared in awe at the woman who wasn’t me in the mirror.
By A. J. Schoenfeld3 years ago in Horror
The Station Without Trains
Seen (1) At the far end of a desert highway stood a train station that no map acknowledged. There were no tracks leading to it, no schedules posted, and no trains that ever arrived. Still, every evening at sunset, the lights turned on. Maya found the station by accident while driving cross-country to escape a life that felt too heavy. Her radio had gone silent miles ago, and her phone showed no signal. When she saw the station glowing in the distance, she pulled over, relieved to find signs of life. The station was clean, almost untouched by time. Wooden benches lined the platform, and an old clock hung above the entrance, forever stuck at 6:40. The air smelled of dust and iron, like a place waiting to be used. “Hello?” Maya called. No answer. She sat on a bench, telling herself she would leave in five minutes. But as the sun disappeared, the lights grew warmer, softer. Calm settled over her in a way she hadn’t felt in years. A man in a conductor’s uniform stepped out from the shadows. His clothes looked old-fashioned, but neatly pressed. His face was kind, though tired. “You’re early,” he said. “Early for what?” Maya asked. “For the train,” he replied. Maya frowned. “There are no tracks.” The man smiled gently. “Not all journeys need them.” He explained that this station was a place between leaving and arriving—a pause for those who were lost, grieving, or running from something they couldn’t name. People didn’t come here on purpose. They arrived when they needed stillness. “Does the train ever come?” Maya asked. “Yes,” he said. “But only once for each person.” Maya felt a tightness in her chest. “Where does it go?” The conductor looked at the horizon. “To the life you stopped believing in.” Maya thought of the dreams she had abandoned, the version of herself she no longer recognized. Tears surprised her, sliding down her face without warning. “I don’t know if I’m ready,” she whispered. The conductor nodded. “That’s why the train hasn’t arrived.” They sat in silence as the stars appeared. For the first time in years, Maya didn’t feel the urge to run. She felt seen. Slowly, the station lights dimmed. The conductor stood. “When you leave,” he said, “you won’t remember this place. But you’ll remember how you felt.” A distant sound echoed—not a train horn, but something close to a heartbeat. Maya blinked. She was back in her car, parked on the side of the empty highway. The station was gone. The road stretched endlessly ahead. But her chest felt lighter. She turned the key and drove forward, not knowing exactly where she was going—but certain, for the first time, that she was finally on the right track.
By Do bol ho jaaye 3 days ago in Horror
Let's Don't Do This
"I just can't do this anymore..." "Do what?" What can't you do? Put gas in your own car? I swear to God you make me take care of everything, don't you? You know I'm on my way to work right now but that never stops you from bothering me, does it?"
By Shirley Belk7 days ago in Fiction
Comments (3)
well written
This was brilliantly dark! That feeling of trying to protect but not being harmed yourself is so well conveyed. And you set the scene well. There's scope here for expansion for sure. Great entry!
Brilliantly terrifying!