myinitialsaredac
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Greetings all, in the spirit of hallows eve I have to write a descriptive horror story for my english class. I figured the more people who read it the better because I need this story to lock in my grade. So I present to you an Elegy of Sorrow, a story written by the one and only me
Please critique comment ask questions make improvements etc etc. Thank you for reading!
An Elegy of Sorrow
As the sun tucked into the clouds, children garbed in the aggregate of human imagination began to stampede over the distant asphalt. Leaves consisting of gold and ruby waved to the torrents of fiends, gave their final bows, and collected in piles on the ground. Dew glistened on the expanse of grass, pulling the eye towards the wall of isolation growing thick around the perimeter of the mansion. Ivy crept up the walls, stopping in fear of the gobs of smoke billowing from the peak filling the air with the nostalgic scent of burning wood and smoldering ash.
She sat reminiscing inside the melody her outstretched fingers struck against the ivory. The notes twinkled against the royal blue ceiling high above, supplemented by the crescent moon taking form between her lips. Crystals from the chandelier reflected the light adding to her radiance, emphasizing the golden waterfall spanning her back. Her eyes, paragons of the clearest skies, closed as the music became exceedingly emotional. Trailing along the icy travertine, the sound scouted the endless pathways, finally attempting to escape through the open French doors welcoming in the mysterious darkness. As the soundscape faded to black, the blue crystals took form on her face once more. An encore flowed through the room, and the figurine playing the piano rose.
“Ah,” her chest flattened in a long exhale of warm breath, “time to wash up for dinner.”
The wooden stairs spoke underfoot, spinning webs of decades past. Her eyes met their twins in the cold, suspended, silvery expanse, and her hand guided itself towards the idle switch upon the wall. A burst of light extinguished the life of one of the bulbs chained in the fixture. The remaining slaves continued to work, casting their labors upon granite the night sky envies. Black stone with silver stars matching the freezing metal fixtures was encrusted upon the merciless walls. Icy water splashing against marble befitting a graveyard finished the windowless cavern, a chilling sepulcher. The water carried away the evenings grime leaving behind the pure silk she was accustomed to.
The stairs yearned for the wafting scent of a rich, juicy turkey, thick, meaty gravy bubbling atop the stove, and the tart-freshness of cranberry sauce.
Bells caused her brow to furrow, as though she had forgotten what they signified. Walking towards the open doors she peered around. Torn spider webs hung on each side of the unfamiliar door bell like fans awaiting their favorite actress at the red carpet.
"Looks like they tired of waiting.” She looked over the green ocean in front of her residence, the hedges were hardly visible. “That’s probably why I never get trick-or-treaters.”
Entering the kitchen a sharp gleam captured her attention. “Unusual, I…I don’t remember leaving my knife out”, she asked peering around in doubt, “I…I must have just been distracted.”
Suddenly, night engulfed the house, shrouding the kitchen. Her stomach tightened as her eyes adjusted. Waves of cold overtook her spine forcing convulsions of heat from the top of her head. Hoping that the fuse had blown she glided over and hit the switch on the wall, banishing the shadows, confirming her fears. The place where the hard edge of the knife had captured her gaze was once again the center of attention; illuminated emptiness.
Click-clock, click-clock, click-clock, the metronome’s warning reverberated in the kitchen. She clutched her body.
“Who’s there?” Click-clock, click-clock the metronome spoke in monotone. “Who’s there?” The metronome answered once more. “I know you’re in there!” her carmine lips quivered. The metronome failed to answer.
Darkness again befell the kitchen, speeding the drumming in her chest. She reached out and grabbed the illuminated phone which was casting a dark tunnel around it, touching it to her hypersensitive ear. A prayer floated across her mind. “Please let there be a signal. Please God, anything for a signal.” Silence. Plastic shards splintered across the unforgiving travertine tiling, pointing towards the double-edged drawbridge. Night was sealed out, she was sealed in.
Blood dripped across her silk knuckles, staining the wood. The pounding on the door was drowned out by the wild thumping of her heart, bursting her ears in an erratic rhythm. Brine filled her nostrils and the familiar salt of tears saturated her tongue. The feeling of water brought the image of the black grotto to the front of her mind. She could lock herself in!
She scouted a pathway, as if in a foreign jungle, through the lightless house. Silence stabbed at her ear drums, forcing the hair to stand on end, alert to any sound. She guided herself into the shadow of the concert room. Glancing about she noticed no movement in the exorbitant darkness. Her shoe’s heel crossed into the sacred domain and the piano mourned an elegy of torment. She became a shaking statue and a shed tear brushed across her cheek. She locked her lips together, fearing any utterance might attract whoever was playing death’s song. She crawled towards the stairs knowing her only chance was to be inside the black room.
Betrayed by the stairs, their unanimous decision to aid her assailant ended the elegy. Her neck directed abnormally soiled sapphires into the darkness following the sound of heavy breathing and the splashing of tears upon the wooden stairs. Her footsteps were taken in a pace that made them indistinguishable from one another. As she arrived at the black vault the mirror freeze-framed a horror scene.
Skeletal patches of exposed flesh carved around blazing rubies devastating any signs of remaining humanity in an immense conflagration were highlighted in the diffused lighting of the vengeful mirror. The gaunt hand of her assailant clutching the knife as a sacred family memento dripped crimson pain into the catacomb. Heavy stone splintered the feeble bones, spattering sanguine torment upon her face which was reflected in the gleaming blade singing an angelic paean against the stone floor. She was alone, surrounded by the terrors of the dark. Instinctively she tried the switch, but the only light came from that longing, thirsty blade. A metallic scraping sounded from the latch on the other side of the stone door. She was locked in; an animal waiting to be slaughtered.
In her mind she knew screaming was useless, there was no penetrating the tomb she was immured in. Nonetheless, her voice echoed until she became incapable. She took quick breaths, her body quaking with fear as it conformed to the cruel walls; her eyes failing to add to the pool that had collected on the stone in front of her. Her neck craned as she searched the infinite depths of the shadows; that blessed knife longing for a drink.
The darkness whispered to her, emptying its conscience of the horrors it has stood idly by and witnessed. Murders and tortures, deaths and genocides, their victims burned into the once pure gems that now betrayed her. The blade watched in an anxious still. Her imagination was unleashed in the terrifying darkness. Brutalities scarcely witnessed by the living came upon the tides slowly eroding her mind.
Her blood raced, beating the sound of a tribal sacrifice against her temples. Her spine snapped in the sudden uproar of winter. Ice formed across her hands, and her eyes became frozen, fixated upon the gleam of light radiating from that sinful blade, waiting for its thirst to be quenched.
AN ELEGY OF SORROW permeated the castle. It crept throughthe cool night air and spoke its wisdom on death and mourning. Inside the black room the water washed away all sins collected upon the marble, and silence took its throne once more.
Cheers,
Dave
(P.S. This is my story and I hold all creative yada yada associated with it. Please do not use my work without my consent =D)
An Elegy of Sorrow
As the sun tucked into the clouds, children garbed in the aggregate of human imagination began to stampede over the distant asphalt. Leaves consisting of gold and ruby waved to the torrents of fiends, gave their final bows, and collected in piles on the ground. Dew glistened on the expanse of grass, pulling the eye towards the wall of isolation growing thick around the perimeter of the mansion. Ivy crept up the walls, stopping in fear of the gobs of smoke billowing from the peak filling the air with the nostalgic scent of burning wood and smoldering ash.
She sat reminiscing inside the melody her outstretched fingers struck against the ivory. The notes twinkled against the royal blue ceiling high above, supplemented by the crescent moon taking form between her lips. Crystals from the chandelier reflected the light adding to her radiance, emphasizing the golden waterfall spanning her back. Her eyes, paragons of the clearest skies, closed as the music became exceedingly emotional. Trailing along the icy travertine, the sound scouted the endless pathways, finally attempting to escape through the open French doors welcoming in the mysterious darkness. As the soundscape faded to black, the blue crystals took form on her face once more. An encore flowed through the room, and the figurine playing the piano rose.
“Ah,” her chest flattened in a long exhale of warm breath, “time to wash up for dinner.”
The wooden stairs spoke underfoot, spinning webs of decades past. Her eyes met their twins in the cold, suspended, silvery expanse, and her hand guided itself towards the idle switch upon the wall. A burst of light extinguished the life of one of the bulbs chained in the fixture. The remaining slaves continued to work, casting their labors upon granite the night sky envies. Black stone with silver stars matching the freezing metal fixtures was encrusted upon the merciless walls. Icy water splashing against marble befitting a graveyard finished the windowless cavern, a chilling sepulcher. The water carried away the evenings grime leaving behind the pure silk she was accustomed to.
The stairs yearned for the wafting scent of a rich, juicy turkey, thick, meaty gravy bubbling atop the stove, and the tart-freshness of cranberry sauce.
Bells caused her brow to furrow, as though she had forgotten what they signified. Walking towards the open doors she peered around. Torn spider webs hung on each side of the unfamiliar door bell like fans awaiting their favorite actress at the red carpet.
"Looks like they tired of waiting.” She looked over the green ocean in front of her residence, the hedges were hardly visible. “That’s probably why I never get trick-or-treaters.”
Entering the kitchen a sharp gleam captured her attention. “Unusual, I…I don’t remember leaving my knife out”, she asked peering around in doubt, “I…I must have just been distracted.”
Suddenly, night engulfed the house, shrouding the kitchen. Her stomach tightened as her eyes adjusted. Waves of cold overtook her spine forcing convulsions of heat from the top of her head. Hoping that the fuse had blown she glided over and hit the switch on the wall, banishing the shadows, confirming her fears. The place where the hard edge of the knife had captured her gaze was once again the center of attention; illuminated emptiness.
Click-clock, click-clock, click-clock, the metronome’s warning reverberated in the kitchen. She clutched her body.
“Who’s there?” Click-clock, click-clock the metronome spoke in monotone. “Who’s there?” The metronome answered once more. “I know you’re in there!” her carmine lips quivered. The metronome failed to answer.
Darkness again befell the kitchen, speeding the drumming in her chest. She reached out and grabbed the illuminated phone which was casting a dark tunnel around it, touching it to her hypersensitive ear. A prayer floated across her mind. “Please let there be a signal. Please God, anything for a signal.” Silence. Plastic shards splintered across the unforgiving travertine tiling, pointing towards the double-edged drawbridge. Night was sealed out, she was sealed in.
Blood dripped across her silk knuckles, staining the wood. The pounding on the door was drowned out by the wild thumping of her heart, bursting her ears in an erratic rhythm. Brine filled her nostrils and the familiar salt of tears saturated her tongue. The feeling of water brought the image of the black grotto to the front of her mind. She could lock herself in!
She scouted a pathway, as if in a foreign jungle, through the lightless house. Silence stabbed at her ear drums, forcing the hair to stand on end, alert to any sound. She guided herself into the shadow of the concert room. Glancing about she noticed no movement in the exorbitant darkness. Her shoe’s heel crossed into the sacred domain and the piano mourned an elegy of torment. She became a shaking statue and a shed tear brushed across her cheek. She locked her lips together, fearing any utterance might attract whoever was playing death’s song. She crawled towards the stairs knowing her only chance was to be inside the black room.
Betrayed by the stairs, their unanimous decision to aid her assailant ended the elegy. Her neck directed abnormally soiled sapphires into the darkness following the sound of heavy breathing and the splashing of tears upon the wooden stairs. Her footsteps were taken in a pace that made them indistinguishable from one another. As she arrived at the black vault the mirror freeze-framed a horror scene.
Skeletal patches of exposed flesh carved around blazing rubies devastating any signs of remaining humanity in an immense conflagration were highlighted in the diffused lighting of the vengeful mirror. The gaunt hand of her assailant clutching the knife as a sacred family memento dripped crimson pain into the catacomb. Heavy stone splintered the feeble bones, spattering sanguine torment upon her face which was reflected in the gleaming blade singing an angelic paean against the stone floor. She was alone, surrounded by the terrors of the dark. Instinctively she tried the switch, but the only light came from that longing, thirsty blade. A metallic scraping sounded from the latch on the other side of the stone door. She was locked in; an animal waiting to be slaughtered.
In her mind she knew screaming was useless, there was no penetrating the tomb she was immured in. Nonetheless, her voice echoed until she became incapable. She took quick breaths, her body quaking with fear as it conformed to the cruel walls; her eyes failing to add to the pool that had collected on the stone in front of her. Her neck craned as she searched the infinite depths of the shadows; that blessed knife longing for a drink.
The darkness whispered to her, emptying its conscience of the horrors it has stood idly by and witnessed. Murders and tortures, deaths and genocides, their victims burned into the once pure gems that now betrayed her. The blade watched in an anxious still. Her imagination was unleashed in the terrifying darkness. Brutalities scarcely witnessed by the living came upon the tides slowly eroding her mind.
Her blood raced, beating the sound of a tribal sacrifice against her temples. Her spine snapped in the sudden uproar of winter. Ice formed across her hands, and her eyes became frozen, fixated upon the gleam of light radiating from that sinful blade, waiting for its thirst to be quenched.
AN ELEGY OF SORROW permeated the castle. It crept throughthe cool night air and spoke its wisdom on death and mourning. Inside the black room the water washed away all sins collected upon the marble, and silence took its throne once more.
Cheers,
Dave
(P.S. This is my story and I hold all creative yada yada associated with it. Please do not use my work without my consent =D)
