Breathe In, Breathe Out

  These shorts are written as practices in writing and all are unedited and are not proofread.  

Breathe in, breathe out. Steady, slowly, through the nose, maybe through the mouth. Every nerve in my body is on end, the rustling of my chin against my coat is loud. Breathe in, breathe out. The sound of my own breathing is the loudest sound, my heart beats in my ears like a drum in the heat of a song.

Breathe in, breathe out.

I focus on getting my eyes to dilate, I need to see what is around me in this dark place. Breathe in, breathe out. The shapes start to be visible, a beam of wood there, an old musty carpet on the floor, and even a cabinet against the wall. The coat is loud, my every movement causing a cacophony of sound to be absorbed by the quiet.

Breathe in, breathe out. A creak from the floor beneath me as I shift my weight nearly makes me jump back against the wall. I can still feel the wall, against my left hand. It is the only reason I know where I am exactly. The room is dark, extremely cold, and entirely black.

Breathe in, breathe out. My eyes are straining, the small muscles working as hard as they can to get more details in the darkness. The scant ambient light from the full moon outside only shines through gaps, cracks, and holes in the room. The beam is illuminated by the crack running just above where it connects to the trusses.

Breathe in, breathe out. The mantra goes through my head, it is easy to forget to do that when facing a room like this. I take another deep breath and let go of the wall behind me. An immediate crackling, creaking of wood beneath me erupts and breaks the silence.

Breathe in, breathe out. It is now near midnight when things start going bump in the night, or so they say. The room feels like a vast chasm, corners so dark that life itself seems to be draining away into them. In the middle of the room, where the centre of the carpet should be is the darkest spot.

Breathe in, breathe out. I move my right hand to my side, where my pistol is, loaded with salt bullets. It is my only weapon, the only thing I can use. I take my first full step forward, the entire room shakes with my movement, the silence bearing down on me with such force my knees buckle.

“June Cartwright, you are here, show yourself,” I say, with my voice just above a whisper. The room booms with the sound, breathe in. And immediately the air stirs, and I feel the wind buffeting my face.

In the centre, where the darkness seems impossibly thick a shape starts to appear. Blinding blue-grey light erupts from it. Despite that, my eyes do not close and stay fully diluted. The light is not natural. June is nothing but a skeletal, see-through apparition, with ragged clothes hanging from her ethereal corpse.

Breathe in, no, breathe out, my breath was being held. Forgetting to breathe is common. Out comes my air and a wall of vapor clouds my vision of June. She turns towards me, empty, hollow eyes focusing on my movement. I can no longer stand still. Breathe in, breathe out.

Her mouth opens and she clearly tries to let out an intense scream, I hear nothing. No one can hear them at this stage. It is only when they become fully formed that you may hear their shrieks, wailing, and screams. Breathe in, breathe out.

My gun falls into my hand, the cold hilt pressing against my palm. The temperature in the room is getting worse, her appearance sucking in all the warmth. Slowly she starts to float towards me, her presence sucking out the very life from me. Breathe in, breathe out. The beating of my heart is becoming louder, adrenaline making it beat ever faster.

Lifting the gun I point it at her, “June Cartwright, this is not the world for you, return.” I aim at where her heart would be and pull the trigger. The sound of it shakes my very soul, the wave rocking me on my feet, the very air seems to shake with the blow. Breathe in, breathe out.

June gives a silent wail, her chest now burning red where the salt bullet enters. It travels slowly, halted by the abomination that is her presence, defying all the laws of the living. Slowly, I holster the gun, one good shot is all I need to get rid of her. Breathe in, Breathe out.

June Cartwright starts to claw at the bullet, her fingers burning as she scrambles to try and move away from it. I hear nothing, just the beating of my heart, the creaks of floorboards, my breathing, controlled and slow. Breathe in, breathe out.

She is looking at me now, her empty eyes baring down at me. The business she left unfinished, the revenge she wanted would be left. Her time has passed, now she must leave. Breathe in, breathe out.

I walk towards her, my feet now on the carpet, the floorboards creaking louder. The bullet travels further, and the red spreads like a root through her body. Her wails stop, her eyes on me, I take another step closer, my coat no longer works to keep the cold out. Breathe in, breathe out.

June Cartwright’s spirit is close now, the vapor from my breath is now like a cloud, it envelops her and me in a circle. I put my hand in my pocket, holding the salt bag, undoing the string. This is old, but it works to stop them, and makes them go faster. Breathe in, breathe out.

Slowly I start to spread the salt, in a circle around her, I get halfway done and then stop, she has turned, her entire spectral body twisting around the centre. The bullet turned with her. This was not possible, it should lock her in place. Breathe in, breathe out.

The skin. 

I think of that. 

There is now skin on her bones, where there had only been bone and rags. She has skin, glowing sickly, blue and grey. She drifts now, closer to me. The door is on the other side of the room. I am trapped. Breathe in, breathe out.

I take a careful step back, the floor creaks, and the darkness spreads. The moon no longer shines in here. My right-hand reaches for the gun, un-gloved I pull it out of the holster. The cold is immense, it pushes on me. Breathe in, breathe out.

She takes a step, landing on the floor. A white and grey leg, with blue light all around it, steps on the salt with no care. I move back and lift the gun, and drop it, a shriek of pain escapes me. The metal burns my hand, the cold of it searing into my skin.

I look at her and she lets out a wail, I hear the sound, breaking through the silence. A wail, a shriek, an ear-splitting sound that drives me to my knees. She moves closer, she is within an arm’s length. I take my salt bag and throw it at her. Ineffectively the salt bounces off her, leaving no lines of red, and causing no burns on her skin. I breathe in.

She stops her wail; the silence is loud. She bends down slowly. I hear her body move, her ragged clothes against the floor. I try to move, I am frozen here. I try to breathe, but my lungs cannot move.

June Cartwright reaches for my face and I feel the cold of her hand on me. The beating of my heart, the blood pump against my skin. She draws the heat and life from me. I try to resist, to breathe, to move. She only smiles, a ghost no longer. June Cartwright is now a true undead.

I fall forward, her steps ring loudly on the floor, the wood does not creak.