UNNAMED [CHAPTER 4 — Fragments in Bloom]

CHAPTER 4 — Fragments in Bloom

“The void was waiting for me,

its arms outstretched,

like the places I tried to run from.

And when I opened my eyes,

I wasn’t sure if I had ever left it.”

There was darkness all around me. I walked forward — or maybe to the side — I couldn’t tell. It felt like I was moving through a place painted black. My senses twisted around me. Was my mind playing tricks, or was I truly trapped in some kind of void?

A wind howled — fierce and unrelenting — spinning around me like I was standing in the eye of a hurricane. It clawed at me, like it was trying to wake me from this emptiness. But instead, it dragged me deeper. Shards of metal, wood, or maybe even concrete dust tore at my skin as I ran through the storm with the last of my strength.

Then I saw it — a flickering light in the distance. Small. Fragile. I followed it, like a moth drawn to a flame.

And that’s when I saw them. The petals of a familiar tree — the paper violet. But something was wrong. The branches were bare and brittle, the ground below littered with shriveled petals. I knelt and picked one up, coated in soil and dust. It was torn, fragmented — no longer whole. I tried to place it back on the tree, desperate to fix what was already broken. But the moment my fingers brushed the bark, the tree splintered with a sickening crack — like bones snapping.

The ground lurched beneath my feet. An earthquake. Or maybe the world just falling apart.

A rustling sound pulled me from the void.

I blinked. My head throbbed. I didn’t remember blacking out.

“Morning, Deathmoth.”

“Can you be silent for a while?” I muttered. “I’m not in the mood.”

“Well, someone’s cranky,” the voice said, smug.

“What did you expect? Didn’t you see what happened? That girl — there was blood — and then she just vanished! The tree — it fell apart!”

“What girl? What fell apart?”

“You’re kidding me, right? She was just here. A few paces away! And the tree — the paper violets!”

“Look again. The tree is right in front of you. You blacked out, that’s all.”

I stared. It was standing. Whole. The petals were there. But I had seen it shatter. I was sure.

“But… she killed someone. There was blood. On her knife.”

“Who?”

I couldn’t answer. My limbs ached, my veins tangled like threads. My head spun.

“What is it, Deathmoth? You good? Not that I care. Shouldn’t you be home by now?”

Maybe it was a dream. Maybe my mind had finally splintered.

But the metallic scent of blood still hung in the air.

That couldn’t be imagined. Could it?

My pocket vibrated. A message.

“Send me notes.”

I wasn’t sure I read it right. Everything was hazy. I glanced at my screen. I was late. I should head home.

I plucked a paper violet from the ground and pressed it against my eyelids.

“Night for now. I’ll come soon.”

The road back to the residency was quiet. Streetlights flickered above me. Cars rumbled in the distance. A family passed by — a child holding both his parents’ hands. I watched them like I was behind glass, like I was watching someone else’s life on TV.

I reached the door. Locked.

“Seems like no one’s home,” I muttered.

I opened my bag, found the key, and stepped inside.

The scent hit me instantly.

Metallic stench of fresh blood.

My legs gave out. I shut the door behind me.

Then I turned — and froze at the sight before me

A figure sat on the sofa.

Motionless.

Her face was soaked in blood, her clothes drenched in it. Drops of red trickled to the floor — drip, drip, drip — like a metronome.

She stared at me. Unblinking. As if she had been waiting for hours.

My body wouldn’t move.

“Welcome home,” she said softly, smiling.

Blood slid from her face and painted the floor beneath her.

My voice caught in my throat.

“Why are you here?”

No reply.

“Why are you here?” I asked again, louder.

She stood up. Her smile twisted — agony bleeding into it.

Four paces away from me, I asked once more.

“Who are you?”

Silence.

“Why are you here? What do you want from me?”

She didn’t answer.

I wasn’t cold. I wasn’t even afraid.

My breathing grew ragged, I lost control over the muscles of my body, I was… frozen.

She felt familiar. Far too familiar. her eyes faintly resembling to the one i have seen somewhere, in a painting? in a dream? or was it…

Then she spoke.

“Why did you kill me?”

My heart stopped.

“K-kill?” My breath faltered.

“You did. You killed me, Deathmoth.”

“No… no! I didn’t kill you!”

She stepped closer. Her eyes locked onto mine.

“You killed me.”

I backed away. The door was right behind me. I could run.

I just had to open it.

“Are you thinking of running away again?”

Her words echoed in my head like she had pulled them straight from my thoughts.

But how could that be?

If she was dead… then how was she standing here?

“You killed me.”

“I didn’t kill anyone!”

She raised a knife. The blade kissed my neck.

A sharp sting. Blood welled up, warm and slow.

And yet — somehow — it calmed me.

Like I’d been waiting for this moment my whole life.

She whispered, “I’m not going to kill you so easily. I’ll make you suffer, just like you made me suffer.”

“I didn’t! I swear I didn’t kill anyone!”

The lights went out.

I blinked.

When I opened my eyes — I was back in the void.

The paper violet tree stood before me again. But now, its petals were bright and glowing.

And she was there — beneath it.

The petals turned red.

I tried to close my eyes, but I couldn’t. Screams echoed around me — distant, desperate, unrelenting.

“Shut up!” I screamed. “Stop! I don’t want to hear this!”

She smiled again. That same twisted, broken smile.

“You did this.”

“No… No, stop! Please stop!”

I dropped to my knees. Covered my ears. Hid my face.

The screams grew louder.

Knocking.

Someone was knocking.

I opened my eyes. I was in the hallway. Alone.

Knocking again.

I rushed to the door.

My mother stood there, holding grocery bags.

“What took you so long to open the door?” she asked, stepping inside.

Then she stared at me.

“Why are your eyes red?”

“I… I just woke up. I was asleep. I’m still half-dreaming, maybe.”

“Another one of your dramas,” she muttered, annoyed.

“I’ll go lie down for a bit.”

I didn’t wait for her reply.

Her voice faded behind me.

I shut my door. Collapsed onto the bed. My thoughts spinning.

I touched my neck.

My fingers came away red.

It wasn’t a dream.

— to be continued..

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Genres : Psychological Horror, Surreal Fiction, Dark Fantasy, Existential Horror, Lovecraftian Horror