Hi again, Blog Reader! With this post, I have a little freebie treat for you all. The following is a short story I wrote a few years ago for submission to a contest. The rules were:- 1. Must be under 1,500 words (Its actually 1,559 but whats 59 words between friends) 2. Themed around the words creepy or sinister I finished and promptly bottled entering - Oh well. The Bear RoomThe room spins as I open my eyes. A faint, dim light spreads about the room as if poured in from the grimy, web strewn skylight above. I sit up and hold my head in my hands for a few moments. I take a few deep breaths in an attempt to assuage the nauseous feeling creeping into me. I'm sweating. My jaw subconsciously tenses as I feel my teeth press hard against each other, almost as if they are trying to prevent the gag I can feel beginning in my throat. I retch a few times and spit bile before my stomach realises that there is nothing to expel. My breathing slows, and the spinning wanes. I cast an eye over my featureless, dismal surroundings and try to assess where I am. The light throws strange shadows against the walls and floor. I stare at each one, in turn, mentally daring it to move, even in the slightest. When I am finally satisfied the shadows hold no danger, I stand. It takes me a second to get to my feet. I stumble as I rise, almost toppling back to the cold stone floor before I catch myself. The room is a box, grey concrete ceiling atop grey concrete walls atop a grey concrete floor, each as dazzlingly grim as the rest. There are few features beyond a tatty camp bed and steel sink. The skylight is too high to reach, even stood atop the bed. I cannot tell whether the light seeping through is natural or artificial; there is a thin yellow glaze adhered to each small rectangular pane. There is one door into the room. It is set into the wall, higher than the floor level. Three small concrete steps and a metal railing leading up to it. I gingerly climb the steps and automatically reach out to take the handle. I grip air as my hand passes through the space where I expect to feel cold metal. There is no handle on my side of the door. I look at the stark metal plate covering where the handle should be. Five screws are holding it in place and a sixth screwless hole, a visible testament to someone's idleness. Each of the screw heads was scratched and deformed. Their original crosses brutally worked into cones. I turn and look back into the room from my slightly elevated vantage point. It is not a large space; somewhat like a single garage, yet without the large door to admit or expel a vehicle. There is no feel to the temperature of the room. It is neither warm nor cold, merely ambient. There is no breeze or feeling of air movement of any kind. All is still, and all is grey. My eyes catch on something strange. In the centre of the room is a child's teddy bear. Was it there before? Did I walk past it and not notice it? It sits, its head slightly cocked as if awaiting a reply to a simple question. I walk closer, a strange feeling of dread filling me further at each step. I stand over it for a short while and watch as its unmoving form stares at my ankles. I squat and stare into its eyes for a few moments as it continues its silent vigil. I reach out, my fingers shaking slightly, and stop. Ever so gently the head of the bear rolls slowly upwards. It's eyes staring directly into mine. My heart freezes in my chest, and my lungs stiffen. I pull my hand away as if my fingers were burned and begin to overbalance. The bear's eyes are slightly chipped making them seem accusing and menacing. The stare continues as I attempt to regain my balance, the seconds stretching into hours until gravity finally claims me. Almost as mirror images, both the bear and I topple backwards to lay staring at the skylight. I wait a few moments, catching my breath and waiting for my now thumping heart to slow. I prop myself up and look at the empty patch of concrete where I had last seen the bear. I scrambled backwards, kicking myself along with my feet and scrabbling with my hands until my back hit the wall with a thump. Where had it gone? Had it been there at all? I sit there and breathe deeply, desperately trying to regain control of the terror slowly taking over my mind. I barely have myself under control when my eyes catch something in the corner of the room. The dim light makes it difficult to see, but I know the shape. The bear. I watch it for a second or two while I convince myself that I must have kicked it over there as I fell backwards. I don’t believe myself, but I repeat it over and over under my breath. I blink, and in the tiny amount between my eyes closing and reopening, the room goes black. I open them to nothing. No light. No sound. I panic and shuffle myself along the wall until I reach the corner. I bury my shoulders as far as I can into the right angle and hug my knees. I pray for the light to return as I begin to sob. I can feel the wet patch start to spread as my tears soak into my jeans. The light begins to return, slow at first, gently building to its pre-darkness level. My sobs slow and stop. I wipe my cheeks and my nose dry and stand once more. I turn my head and stare at the bear in the corner. It sits on its side now, head still facing me, eyes still staring out into the room. An uncontrollable rage seizes me. I blame the bear for terrifying me and stride angrily towards it. I snatch it up from where it lay and grip it tightly, snarling and swearing at it as I rant. The bear stares blankly back at my rage, once again inert. My anger grows further as I throw it to the floor and stomp on it with one foot. I jump and land both feet on the bear. I smile and snarl at the same time. A guilty pleasure comes over me as I squat to lift the bear to my face. It's now scratched eyes stare at me, their blackness rivalling the feeling inside me. I notice the seam has split down the bear's side. Small pieces of its clean white stuffing tumble and glide to the floor as I watch. An evil thought pushes me to begin pulling at the stuffing, faster and faster I rip out the bear's innards. I kick and throw the small balls of fluff around the room as if I am trying to coat every millimetre of the floor. I look at the sad remains of the bear in my hands, its body deflated, and one ear is missing. The rage inside me subsides as I look once more into its cold, dead eyes. Ashamed, I place the head of the bear in the corner facing the wall and return to my own. Suddenly there is a noise. A jangle of keys. A metallic thump as a lock turns and a squeal of old hinges as they resist opening the heavy door. I count the seconds in my head, waiting for someone or something to step through. Nobody enters. Gingerly I return to my feet. I take slow, cautious steps towards my exit, hugging the wall and watching the back of the bear's head. I stop before I reach the first step and stare at the door. It opens out of the room and is slightly ajar. It beckons to me. It sits and quietly screams at freedom. I gulp and restrain my urge to rush the door. I place my hand on the rail and lift my right foot. I set it down on the first step and pull myself up. My left foot takes the initiative and swings upwards onto the second where my right foot joins it. I stare back into the room. Pieces of the bear litter the floor, and tiny motes of stuffing are floating gently in the air. I feel a pang of guilt at my outburst. The bear had done nothing wrong. It was merely a focus for my fear and paranoia. I smile as I realise my flaws and step up to the door. I push it outwards and step out of the room. I take a few steps away from the door and turn to see it closing behind me. I say a farewell to the room and take in my freedom. At first, I don’t believe the evidence of my own eyes. I turn and see the doorway is concealed on this side; the faintest of seams in the concrete betraying its existence. I look around me, and it is then I recognise the noise of myself screaming. The room is a box, grey concrete ceiling atop grey concrete walls atop a grey concrete floor, each as dazzlingly grim as the rest. There are few features beyond a tatty camp bed and steel sink. In the centre of the room is a child's teddy bear. It sits, its head slightly cocked as if awaiting a reply to a simple question. Hope you enjoyed it. Marks out of 10 in the comments section
See you next time
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Craig BoldyBorn in South Yorkshire, he lives there with his wife and Labrador. Working a normal 9-5 while filling his nights with writing. Categories
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