The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!
Realism Down to the Pores
by Kai Wilson
Live starts
“The air in the crypt is remarkably dry. The last three rooms had been damp-walled, rivulets of water running down in streams like vines, puddling and then slipping under the walls. The floor, though covered in debris, had a clear path in another stream, this one more solid, straight and smooth-stoned. A flow of traffic rather than water. One or two leaves might transgress this path, and would obviously dry, crumble, and be worn into the floor. I looked down to one side, training my torch against the doorjamb, and saw a skeleton leaf, the flesh melted away, leaving a ghost outline in veins and dust.”
Under her breath, she said “God, I sound so lame,”
The door to the crypt was heavy, but when she pushed it, there was a change in the air. A…dryness that spread back from the room. A little barrier, almost. It felt like she was stepping through a veil. It wasn’t quite solid, instead it was a feeling, that tingled across her skin, goosebumps raising under her jumper. The arm in front of her that had moved the door open, which swung, as you watch back again, in eery silence, comes back and starts rubbing at herself as if she’s cold. A plume of breath suddenly appears at the bottom of the frame.
The lights flickered again, a hand briefly passing into view, but the light seems to be steady again after a second, so she continues to pan.
“This room feels different,” she said, then jumped a little startled. “Sorry, I forgot I needed to keep talking, this place is stunning,”. The view keeps panning. “Look at this room,”
It’s clear from the pan that these walls are dry, different from the description or prior images. It’s almost as if it’s a separate building. Sandstone golden instead of green and damp.
“This is the first time I’ve been in here,” she added continuing to pan. There are clear engravings, deeply shadowed and highlighted in the flashlights, but if you watch as they move, they look somehow…wrong. Like they’re slithering or fading away as you pass over them
She reached the point directly in front of her and there’s a shape in the gloom, just out of camera view, where the light wouldn’t meet, hesitated, then kept panning.
“This room is longer than it is wide, and there are stairs beneath me, though, given how old this place is, I can’t believe how good a state this place is in.”
There’s a scrape off camera though, and the image tumbles, wobbles and becomes poorly lit. A blur of black, green, grey and sandstone passes before it steadies to look at a sandy path, with a couple of dots of dark, shiny blood. There’s panting and a bit of swearing on the live.
The lighting flickers again, and the view changes, jerkily looking up and along the path, and illuminating the bottom of a dais, moving up past a dress, a pair of clasped hands, and a shadowed face, positioned as if they were leaning forward, watching. Possibly waiting to move to help.
“Oh crap,” she said, then let out a shaky laugh, and continues, “Can you see this?”
The camera is unsteady again, and there’s a view of dusty shoes, dusty jeans, and scraped hands. It’s obvious she’s looking at herself and trying to work out what happened. Her gaze seems to raise after a second, and she examines the statue more closely. A hand reaches out, touching the knee, then the hand.
“It’s cold, but the knee feels like a dress. Like the soft texture of material. The hands…” there’s a pause, “the hands are so unusual, but are just as cold, stone, and with a skin-like texture under my fingers.” As the footage looks past the hands, you can hear her breath catching in her throat.
“Do you…” she says and begins to reach for what looks like a veil, so realistic, but obviously carved into stone. As she does, as she moves, the light falls on the area behind her, and there are wings, curving from her shoulders, up onto the wall.
And they are not stone.
The noise comes again, and they move….
Live ends
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Fiction © Copyright D. Kai Wilson-Viola
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com
About Author Kai Wilson:
D Kai Wilson-Viola aka Kai, writes in all genres. She’s currently gearing up to release Lots of books, including some horror as Sabrann Curach. She is a tiny bit obsessed with serial killers, and this is the start of one of her next series…an amuse bouche of sorts. This story will continue in an upcoming book.
When not writing, she can be found gaming, taking part in Ludosport (lightsaber duelling and training) or taking photos with her family in the Cotswolds, where she lives.
Find Kai Wilson on Facebook!
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