//------------------------------// // Into the fading Dark // Story: Wont you come out to play...? // by Elaine_Lunaris //------------------------------// Chapter Two: Into the fading Dark... His boot slammed into the old oaken door for perhaps the seventh time since he had backed away from the monster behind the door. He screamed in frustration as his foot hit the door again, and again. Yet still the old door withstood his frenzied assault. The door behind him shuddered in perfect sync with his attack on the door as the... ’thing’ which had identified itself as Pinkie, slammed into the locked door in order to get to him. ”Why won’t you come out to play with me...?” He tried to ignore the high pitched mocking voice of Pinkie as he kicked the door, yet again, in an attempt to break through it. Sweat trickled down his back, leaving a cold chill down his spine. Tears came to his eyes as he heard one of the bolts from the door behind him, come loose and fall to the ground with a clunk! ”If you won’t come out... can I come in...?” He had had enough now, and finally decided to respond with a hoarse voice. Overused from screaming mind you... “No, you can’t come in you psychotic Bitch...!” He kicked at the door again, right next to the lock this time. The door shuddered, but did not break and he heard another giggle from behind him; another shudder from the ever weakening door, another clank as yet, another bolt came loose and hit the floor. He had truly never feared for his life any more than he did now. He put all of his strength into another, final, blow against the door. His boot smashed against the creaking door in an attempt to burst the old wood. Crack! His eyes opened as the wood next to the lock exploded outwards and fell to the ground. What was revealed was a longer, darker hallway that held no lights in the distance. He heard a sad sigh from behind the locked door, the pink menace must of realized he had gotten through. ”Now I have to find another way around... Oh well! See you soon~!” He didn’t think about the high-pitched giggling coming from behind the locked door, he just ran. He paid no attention to his sore and obviously splintered foot, as he sprinted down the dark corridors. He just pointed the flashlight ahead of him and ran, for all that he was worth, the guiding beam of light, illuminating the hallways and chasing the shadows away. He looked at the doors leading to different rooms as he sprinted down the maze of corridors, not caring about them in the slightest. He turned, left, right, and then left again, straight ahead, left. He kept running down the corridors till he could not breathe, and finally, had to stop. He slowed from a dead sprint to a fast run, then a slow walk, until stopping altogether. He could hear his heart, pounding like a hammer in his ears. The blood in his veins, rushing like a blown fire hydrant to his flushed face. His breath, escaping from already tortured lungs as they, feebly tried to calm his shaken nerves. He rested his hands on his knees as he bent down in a slight slouch, panting for air. He reached up a shaking hand, and slicked it through his sweat stained chestnut brown hair. He felt a sting at the back of his head and retracted his hand, bringing it to the front of his face to get a closer look with his flashlight. His hand was covered in blood. That is probably why I can’t remember how I got here... His mind, desperately trying to rationalise the situation he was in, only turned out a blank. He wiped his shaking, blood stained hand on his pants before pointing the flashlight forwards again. He set off again in a brisk walk that he could keep at a steady pace. To where...? Well, there must be a reason as to why I am here... Right...? A single thought came to the forefront of his mind as he passed a barred door. He was so preoccupied in his thinking, that he didn’t even notice the flash of pink, or the two bright blue eyes that stared at him as he passed it. Finally he vocalised this thought out loud as he walked down the corridor. “This is some serious Amnesia shit right here...” But, that couldn’t be right... He remembered everything, his name. Cole Barrdocks. He remembered his age, seventeen. He rolled his eyes, one green one blue. He always had one green and one blue eye, it was an inherited trait throughout his family, and he didn’t blame his parents for it. In fact, he enjoyed being different from everyone else. He remembered other information about himself, 5 ft 9 ½ inches tall, it was the average height where he came from. He enjoyed playing video games, listening to music and reading the occasional book every now and again. His favourite colour was red; in fact, he was wearing a red shirt now. He tugged at his blue, blood stained jeans and sighed. His black boots were completely ruined from that door smashing he had done. But yes, he could remember everything about himself and his family. Well... except how he got here, that was still a mystery. Slowly walking down the corridor so as to not make any loud unwanted noises, he tried to open some of the doors in the dark corridor. Picking one at random he pointed the flashlight at it... ’Yeah, going to need to find some batteries soon...’ He got lucky on the first try of opening the door and it opened to reveal... A, study...? He looked around the room, confused as to why on earth there would even be a study here. From what he had experienced so far, this place would have no need to have a study! He quickly moved into the room and took in the sight some more. He was surrounded by old, decaying bookshelves. Books were scattered around the room at random. Smashed chairs lay strewn about the floor in a haphazard mess. A single table sat in the corner of the room, quite possibly the only survivor of decay. He moved closer to the desk, his curiosity spiked by the old, mahogany table with a single drawer in it. He tip-toed and jumped over the scattered about books and broken pieces of furniture in order to get to the old, yet not decayed table. When he reached the table he cocked an eyebrow as paper, old and withered sat in neat stacks on the top, three inkpots sat on the left side, and the drawer was slightly out. He grabbed the old drawers handle and tugged it open. He pointed the slightly more dimmed flashlight and saw what was inside. “Ooohh...!” Inside the drawer, carefully preserved were four batteries, a box of matches and a... diary...? He shrugged, pocketed the matches and batteries, picked up the diary and began to walk out of the unnecessary study. He would read the diary in a safer location, if there was such a place here... He walked towards the door and was about to open it... only to snatch his hand away and retreat from the door when he heard a familiar noise coming from the hallway... Tap... Tap... Tap... Tap... He gasped and started looking around, franticly searching for a hiding spot. A wardrobe he had missed before, since he hadn’t cared to look behind him when he walked in, was right next to the door. A little too close to comfort, but it would have to do! Tap... Ta... Tap... Tap... *Giggle...!* Pinkie was getting closer... He lightly moved over to it, carefully opened the door to find a jacket and a couple other oddities inside the wardrobe. He jumped inside, closed the doors, and moved the jacket in front of him. Turning his flashlight off and clutching the diary to his chest in an attempt to keep it safe... He heard the door open, and he heard something enter the room. He was glad he put the jacket in front of him, just in case Pinkie opened the wardrobe, she might be ignorant enough to ignore the misplaced jacket. Tap... Tap... Tap... Tap... His breath caught in his lungs as he listened quietly listened to his surroundings. He could hear a knife scrape across the floor in the room, a few books being shuffled around... the desk open. He heard a gasp, and something in the room turn sharply around. He-He-he! Come out, come out wherever you are!” He covered his mouth to stifle the gasp that threatened to escape his lungs. She knew he was here...! ”Hmmm...” It was quiet... He knew she was waiting for him to come out of hiding. Well if she wanted to play the waiting game, the waiting game they shall play! Everything was silent, nothing stirred. The tension in the room was thick enough that, if it was food, it would feed a family of four for a month or so. He heard the door close after a minute, and silently sighed. Thinking he had escaped from the pink monster, the stuff of nightmares. Then the wardrobe door opened. ”Ah- ha...?!” He stifled a scream as he felt the eyes of the insane pink menace searching the wardrobe. He had to remain still, no matter what! It couldn’t see him if the jacket was in the way. All the while he was thinking: ’Please don’t move the jacket, please don’t move the jacket, please don’t move the jacket...!’ ”Huh...” The wardrobe door closed loudly, and he squinted as it stubbed his bruised, splintered toe. He buried a hiss of pain into the recesses of his mind. ”Shoot! Thought for sure he would be here... Oh well! I’ll get the slippery guy eventually!” Tap... Tap... Tap... He heard the door open, and after a few seconds close behind the slowly departing Pinkie. He breathed a sigh of relief, now she was gone... Cautiously though, he opened the wardrobe door and picked the jacket off tits racket before slipping it on. ’Might come in handy.’ He placed the diary in the pocket of the jacket, stepped out of the wardrobe... and then was immediately reminded of the pain in his foot. “Ah sonnova-!” Of course, since it was dark, and he hadn’t bothered to turn on his flashlight. He slipped on an open book on the floor and fell on his arse. “...Bitch...”