- Author: TimeSoul
- Type: Original Story
- Rating: Explicit?
Born with exceptional gifts, nine high school students fight for their lives against something normal people are unable to see: a ghost. Trapped in a world in-between life and death, they must defend themselves against the dead.
Deanna Emma Trey
- Brick's perspective
One minute, I find myself standing inside of the Bull's Eye clothing store on Main Street, flirting with the girl who works the cash. Then, after a blink, I find myself standing in the middle of an empty street. The world is silent around me, eerily so. Additionally, the world seems to be different.... almost like an old movie: black and white.
I look down at myself. I still find the familiar red uniform of the high school football team, of which I'm the captain of. A large, cartoonified Rhinoceros gives a thumbs up on the front, as a cigar pokes out of its stubble-covered mouth. The Rookwood Rhinos.
Making sure that I'm still... me, I take a good look at my surroundings. Large skyscrapers and box-like shops watch me from the sidewalks. What is this place?
I walk towards one of the stores and peer inside. No signs appear on the outside, but the inside looks like a traditional sports store: hockey sticks, footballs, skates, baseball helmets: they're all lined up evenly around the walls of the store. The lights inside the store are on, though when I try the doorknob, I find it to be locked.
Confused about my new situation, I start pounding on the glass door. Yelling as loud as I can, I try and get through to anyone inside. "Hello!?" I call out, my voice burns my throat as the words are shot from my mouth. "Anyone home!?"
I wait a few minutes just in case someone's in the back room or something, but no one comes out. Eventually, the lights turn off, though I see no one exit.
The door to the store next door opens up just as the lights shut off. Still clueless, I slowly creep towards the store and look inside slowly. DVDs and Blu-Ray discs are arranged in stands, with CDs lining the back wall. A door cuts the shelves on the wall, probably leading to the back room. This time, instead of the waiting approach, I try something different: I run into the store and towards the back. Charging towards it, shoulder first, I brace for the pressure of my shoulder against the wooden door.
A simple tap, and the door falls in; almost as if it wasn't even on the hinges. "Am I really that strong?" I ask myself, looking at my fist as I clench it.
I glance around the room, which is, as I thought, storage. Cardboard boxes are stacked on shelves, labelled with images of Blu-Ray and DVD covers.
But when I turn the opposite direction, I hear it: a faint sound of music leaking from another room. Slowly, I tip-toe towards the source of the music, which increases in volume over time. As I reach the door to the source, I can easily make out the lyrics for "We Will Rock You" by Queen.
I try the doorknob, and it turns easily, revealing a small washroom. A speaker is mounted above the sink, playing the song I heard from the entrance. Staring at the speaker, the reality I have been sucked into has finally come crashing down. I am utterly alone. No one is here.
I drop to my knees. I'm the captain of the team. I'm used to having people alongside me all the time, 24/7. There's no moment where Keith Wintersby or Ren Reaves trod beside me as part of my posse.
I relied on them, they relied on me.
But alone..... alone, I'm nothing.
I collapse to my knees, my legs buckling. A trail of warmth drops down my cheek, and drops onto the floor. It's clear; a tear.
For the first time in forever, I feel afraid. Scared.
I look at the ground, as a shadow devours mine on the ground. Slowly turning my head around, I see him.
Dark hair spikes down his forehead, with darkness clouding underneath his dark blue eyes. He seems happy, almost amused with me. "Hello friend." he smiles, his teeth spiking almost monstrously. I inhale through my nose, snot draining into my mind. I stand up slowly. I know not to trust someone suspicious like this, but I need answers and he may give 'em to me.
"Sup." I say, puffing out my chest with courage. "Name's Brick. Brick Samson."
He sticks out his hand, his skin bone white. "They call me Rip." he says. His voice is deep and raspy, though somewhat.... odd. I don't know how to describe it.
I grab his hand, and quickly shake it. "Nice to meet you."
A pain shoots through my wrist, and I see him step back, a knife hidden in the sleeves of his long, black coat. I narrow my eyes. "You son of a bitch." Blood pours out from my right wrist, dripping down onto the ground like a waterfall.
He smiles once more, his teeth as white as light, with some red splotches on them. Holding the knife delicately in his hand, he carefully shows it to me, before it disappears...
...and reappears in my chest, skewering my heart.
I collapse to the ground, darkness clouding my eyes. Rip bends down to retrieve his knife and beams. "Welcome to my world, bitch! Rest in fucking pieces."
I hear him laughing as he disappears out of the room, and I close my eyes and feel the blood drain from my heart.
I.... don't even know..... what's going...... on.....
- Deanna's perspective:
I slump against the wall. My cell phone, no reception, sits uselessly in my palm. I relied on it too much to understand anything else about life, and now that its gone, I'm useless.
The monochromatic world spirals around me. "Okay, okay. Think rationally."
I sigh. I don't think, I have people do that for me. But....
"Ultimate Dimension?" I tap my forehead. Yes. That's right. I must be in one of those "Ultimate Dimension" thingies.
How do I escape from an Ultimate Dimension? My index finger raps my forehead. Think! Think! THINK!
After a minute, a sigh escapes my mouth, as I collapse to the ground, my phone shattering at my feet.
A voice calls to me. Is it in my mind? I've been walking for hours and no one approached me. Obviously, I must be alone. Either way, I turn to the sound of the voice, halfheartedly paying attention. A man, with short brown hair, green eyes and a scruffy beard walks up to me. He must be only a few years older than me.
"Ew." I mutter. "Get a-way from me. Loser!" I mock him, sticking my tongue out as I cross my arms.
He rolls his eyes and walks over to me quickly. He looks me dead in the eye, breathing in the air that exits my mouth. We look as if we are about to hug, but instead...
He slams his open palm against my cheek. "You know, bitch, you should probably stop fucking with people who are lost and confused."
I rub my cheek in anger, hoping to rub out the pain. "Thanks, you little shit."
I narrow my eyes, but realize something. He said he's lost and confused... just like me.
"I'm..." I stumble. What's the word? "I'm soapy? I'm stony? I'm..."
He tilts his head in confusion. Obviously I'm not using the right word. He supplies it for me: "Sorry?"
"Yes!" I clap twice. "That! I'm... sowey." I look at his eyes, still confused. "Is that right?"
He shrugs, but still seems angry. "Close enough."
He slams his hand against the glass wall behind me, and it caves in as if it was made of cards. "That was easy." he says, looking at his palm in awe.
He steps into the building, avoiding the glass shards beneath our feet. I follow him, and look around the room. Shelves, empty, sit on the walls....
But on the floor, there are two hatchets. One smaller than the other, as if placed just for us.
He glances at me, a grin covering his face. "Self defence."
I must look confused, because he answers my un-asked question: "Since we don't know what's going on, we're going to need some shit to help us figure this out."
I get it.... I think.
I grab the smaller of the hatchets, and almost topple from the weight. Fucking.... thing.
My hands grip the wooden handle, and I hold it out in front of me. I look at the head of the hatchet, and I notice the edge. Blood stains the edge.
"You know, I never got your name." the man speaks to me as he rummages through boxes behind the counter.
"Deanna." I answer, quickly looking for something to clean the head with.
He shines a light on me, and reveals that he found a flashlight. It blinds me for a second, but when my vision clears, I see his smiling face. "I'm Trey."
Then I notice the person standing outside the (magically fixed, I guess?) window, holding a large, bloodied knife.
My face pales.
"What?" he asks, looking over his shoulder.
The man outside has a menacing smile crossing his face, his teeth sharp as if he's a monster.
He then walks through the glass, towards me.
- Trey's perspective:
Deanna jumps behind me in fear, and I ball up my fists in a defensive position. "W-w-who.... who are you?" I stammer, trying my best - and failing - to act courageous. The man's eyes darken and he holds out his hand, his fingers sharp like knives.
No. They are knives.
I look down at them quickly before taking a step back, bumping into Deanna. She gasps in fear, her eyes drawn to the knives.
"C'mon what's the matter?" the man says, his voice a hiss against the silent air. "Just tryin' to act friendly."
"W-well.." I shake my head slowly. This is a dream! This is a dream!! "I'm... T-Trey."
The man waves his hand in front of me, his fingers now flesh and blood. "Nice to meet you, Trey. I'm Rip."
"Rip?" his name vomits from my mouth. "L...Li...Like..... r-r-r-rest i p-p-peace?"
He closes his eyes in a sigh. "No, its short for Ripley." He rolls her eyes. "Why do people always assume I'm a serial killer." He holds his hand in front of his face, his fingers extended. I watch as his fingers flash, turning from his white skin tone to silver knife blades. "Haven't you ever seen a person replace their fingers with knives?"
Deanna sinks back, almost trying to merge with me. "That can not be normal."
'Fuck no." I mutter.
He laughs twice, and I stand up straight; my body tensing as the sound crashes against my eardrum. "You're right," he says in a friendly tone. Next, he lowers it, to an almost demonic degree: "It's not."
With a swift movement that I don't see, he whips his hand out and stabs Deanna in the side- five holes spewing blood from her stomach. "Oh dear god!" she yells, collapsing to the ground in pain.
I put my hand against the wall, looking for something to protect me. Then I remember, the store's empty. I look down at my hand and remember that I am holding a large hatchet. I lift it above my head and bring it down quickly, my eyes closed with fear. Please hit him...
The head sinks down into skin and I hear a scream. I open my eyes to see the head piercing Deanna's shoulder, blood flying from it like a geyser. "I'm so sorry!"
I spin around, looking for Rip, but he's gone. I bend down quickly, and put pressure on her shoulder, trying to slow the bleeding. I tear a part of her shirt off, and tie it around her shoulder - a makeshift bandage. I then look down to her stomach. Her breathing is light and her skin pale. She's dying.
I put pressure on her stomach and her face contorts. Something must have been damaged inside. I don't know much about anatomy, but its likely her stomach was pierced or a vein cut.
I stand up quickly and look to my sides very quickly for something else to use as a bandage. I spot a roll of sports tape, the kind put on the end of hockey sticks, and think that I may be able to use that. It's not like I have anything else.
I quickly grab it and rush to her side, collapsing to her knees.
A pain pierces my heart, and I try and say something. "Stay with me!" my brain screams, though nothing comes from my mouth. I put my hand to my heart and it comes away wet with crimson blood.
I cough up blood, and then collapse over Deanna's unconscious body.
A laugh echoes through the empty store, and I slowly tilt my head. Rip, pale white skin dressed in obsidian black, stands over me, holding a large, serrated knife in his hands as he looks into my eyes.
He thrusts it quickly into my head, saying something that sounds ominous to me.
- Emma's perspective:
One minute, I am running from the police, a bag of stolen clothes in my hand. The next, I stand in the middle of a deserted street, still afraid. I rush to one of the doors that line the street: locked. I try another: locked. I pound against the door, paranoid that this is the police's doing. "Open. Open!" I grunt, before charging, shoulder-first, into the door. It creaks open, and I push it open fully. I look back and forth around the store. "I need a weapon. A weapon..."
The store is looted. It's empty, trash scattering the ground. I can't stop confusion from crossing my face. I place my hand against the wall, running my fingers over the cracks in it, looking down at the broken shelves tossed about on the floor- like trash.
A sound echoes through the store: footsteps. I quickly jump behind a counter, waiting for them to pass. Hopefully it is not the police. Please, don't be the police!
The footsteps stop on the opposite side of the counter, and I hold my breath. "I know you're there, Emma Manning."
A dry voice, a tinge of anger cracking through. Not the police. I poke my head over the counter, to get a look at the person. He looks like a drug dealer, a grey hoodie covering his skinny body, his skin pale, his red eyes shaking back and forth under a mess of brown hair. "Who're you?" I ask quickly, holding my fists up.
He cracks a smile. "Ripley. Ripley Brown."
A small voice pokes my mind. Don't trust him.
I don't listen.
I hold my fists out, ready to attack him. "Obviously, you don't know where we are." This stops me in my tracks. I tilt my head, confusion obviously crossing my face."
"We're not on Earth any more." He smiles. "You're in my world now."
Pain burns through my arms, and I scream as my arms feel as if they are exploding. I look down, tears streaming from my eyes. He's not doing anything, he's only touching my arm. He pulls away and the pain immediately stops.
"What...." I gasp for air. "What the fuck did you do to me!?"
He touches my arm again, this time closing his hand around it. Pain explodes through my arm, and I try and shake him off but to no avail.
"This is where the worst of the worst come for punishment. Call it karma." He smiles, a knife in his hand. With his free hand, he reaches forward and quickly gouges my eye out of my socket, the pain killing me. I can't stop screaming.
He tosses my eyeball up in the air, like a ball, before putting it in his mouth and, without chewing, swallowing it. I growl at him, wanting to kill him.
With the knife in his hand, he walks towards me, and stabs me in the stomach. "Welcome to my world, bitch."
He pulls off his hood, his face a grey monotony of evil. I see death and insanity in his eyes as I black out. "Enjoy your stay."
- June's perspective:
- Roy's perspective:
- Marie's perspective:
- Mars' perspective:
- Jacqueline's perspective: