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The Faceless - Flash Horror

I had to leave. The atmosphere at home was radioactive. I could feel my flesh melt, and my hair fall out. I left at night with no money. I had the clothes on my skin, a raincoat, a lighter, a solitary cigarette, and for some reason, a note pad. � � � � � � � � � � � � � � �
� � � �My father told me to write it down, get it out of my head. Write it down. Write what down? Write the babble, the paranoia, the fear, the hatred of the capitalist system, the pain of falling in love with people who needed more than a sense of humor to form a relationship, write it down, and then forget about it. It didn�t work and yet I kept the notepad, empty and pure of thought.
� � �Mother was a good woman. I could not be her son. I could not live under the same roof. I didn�t even know why I wanted to leave. I just felt a sense of doom whenever I thought about growing old in the family home alone. Time was a robed hunter. Time would find me and turn me into dust.
� � �I wandered down the street where I grew up. I past the Kebab house, where soldiers and drunkards fought over women they would never marry. Along the blood stained pavements.
I saw the car park, where people listened to drum and base at four in the morning, through subwoofers installed in their car boots. I saw the pet shop that sold coal, the car shop window with over-priced bicycles, the club that took in drinkers and spewed out drunks. I saw all the familiar spots I wandered as a kid, and it made me sick.
� � �There was a force driving me away from civilization. I wanted to hide in the wilderness away from people. It was not a well thought out plan. It was the only plan I could stomach. If I could find somewhere to lie down and rest I might be able to come back.
� � �The town was surrounded by fields and hills, with forests and woods, and many places left alone. I was swimming with choices, every direction led to more abandoned land.
� � �There was a man living atop a hill in a tent. I was not afraid of him but I felt that he wouldn�t want to be disturbed. I wasn�t the only one who needed to get away.
� � �I left the center of town. The noise of the cat screech karaoke faded to nothing. The engines were less. The drunken shouts of noontime fools disappeared as I reached the mansions on the edge of the country.
� � �I took a concrete lane under the bypass and on to farmer�s fields. These fields were filled with green barley. The tips shone orange by the light of the road lamps. There was no moon and clouds obscured the stars. It was only when I was far away from the roads that I began to feel conscious of the dark.
� � �The silence of night constricted me like a snake. No wind, no animal rustlings, just dead silence and coal-black night.
� � �It was peace, tainted by fear, but peace none the less. Now all I needed was a place to sleep.

� � �I thought about curling up at the wayside. I thought better of it, for I was too exposed. The night had a mid-October cool to it. I looked for a place off the lane. I remembered an old pillbox I played in as a child. I walked round and round the woods until my feet felt something solid under them. I was on the roof. I felt my way round to the door. I went inside to an even deeper darkness.
� � �I flicked the lighter on. It illuminated years of teenage graffiti. Most just swear words and tags, some marks of devil worship. More sinister was a letter. The letter was written in white paint. Written by a madman perhaps? A letter to the wilderness. I burnt my hand on the lighter before I could read it.
� � �There were dry twigs and leaves on the floor. I piled them up and made a fire. I sat watching the flames feeling the warmth and trying to slow down my mind. I smoked my last cigarette.
� � �I must have sat there for an hour before I felt a huge surge of exhaustion sink into my muscles. The fire was nearly out and I lay down to sleep. My mind wouldn�t let me rest. I kept thinking of the millions, the millions of malnourished minds, and the machine. I hoped the machine would fall down into the slithering briars. I hoped it would be dragged into the mud and forgotten. As I fell away from consciousness I saw moon light return to the sky outside the door.
� � �
Something broke me out of sleep. The moonlight was stronger. I looked towards the door and saw a silhouette of a head. Fear flooded my heart and mind. I didn�t move because I couldn�t. Whatever it was, blocked my escape. It stood still, darkness obscured the face. I heard my own breathing. It was silent. It just stood there staring at me through the dark.
� � ��Fuck off,� I said, whimpering with fear, �I am sleeping, find your own place.�
It didn�t reply. My voice changed the mood. It came closer. I couldn�t move. It pressed its face into mine. I reached out to push it off. I felt nothing but a smooth surface. It had no eyes, no nose, mouth or ears. It was a smooth orb like a football. It crushed down on me and I couldn�t get up. I couldn�t get out.

� � �And that is what I imagined would happen if I left home without preparing first. I would leave. I wouldn�t rush into the hands of darkness. I would endure the radiation a little longer.

Written by James_A_Knight

Published 29th Jan 2024

Author's Note

A Pillbox is a concrete or brick structure built in Britain during WW2. They were built in case of an invasion. The invasion never came and thousands of them lay dormant in the British countryside.

#dark #horror #MentalHealth #teens #trees

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Re. The Faceless - Flash Horror

InDreamz

31st Jan 2024 1:58pm

A very well written story...the twist towards the end of the story made the read even more exciting....n the reading was also pretty good.👌
Thanks for sharing,James 😊