Stories have not been prospering on the forums in forever, so it’s time I bring back stories and to quickly get stories on their knees, I created this lovely moody atmospheric story, it’s horror but i’m sure you will enjoy it.
I put creepy ambient sounds doing this… but I did not turn off the lights otherwise I would freak out.
STORY: SHROUDED CHAMBER IN THE WOODS
**AUTHOR: @smartypig38 **
Orange leaves slowly plunge to their resting place in the ground, the long standing trees become bare, the worms, the beetles, the spiders, all the creatures of this bewildering wood burrow into their hallowed ground, as autumn settles herself onto the so ordinary wood, a typical wood, it’s covered with thick foliage, bugs, small critters and of course, the irrational fears from the many locals who live nearby experience. It is indeed quite the spectacle of the settling mist, the setting sun, the rustling leaves, this is Mother nature’s gift. Or is she always obvious? Does she always show what she grows, what she cherishes? No. Mother nature too has her secrets, very ominous, very enchanting secrets she archives, and tonight, we will find one.
It is dark, the lights blare on, the silhouettes of the locals are visible in their cosy cottages. Streets become dull. And all what is life is the trees dancing lightly in the soothing wind, all what lingers high is the quarter moon, but even it. Is daft.
‘The light cannot always penetrate the shadows, in every corner, in every place, there will always be a shadow, but it is they who dread, for when they look into it, all of their cranium is daunt’
Very abysmal footsteps trudge through the resting leaves, all the wonders of a dark night are its sounds. But who creates these footsteps? Who engineers them? Only the shadow shrouds it, only the shadow knows, but it won’t tell, it won’t show, it is a mischievous energy, if lords can’t see through it, nothing can. The small footsteps advance closer, deeper into the secretive woods, side of the footsteps are small stones, disputed and forgotten into the depths of the trees, red marks are bore on the ancient trunks of the trees, and even deeper as the sound goes, the only thing which is man-made, are the mystical carvings of antique Gods and glamouring yet unsettling faces of the long dead, Mother Nature loves to hide what is old. As the wood follows behind the footsteps, the leaves slowly descend down onto the ground, the branches shake their hands as if they were waving at a flying vulture.
It only got darker, more hostile to see through. Until. It was barely manageable to be even able to determine what the mere eyes of the beholder could differentiate. And yet the soft steps plowing through the ground leave no marks, as if whoever ventures through this deep dark forest is non-existent, only a lifeless shell who is isolated, and has no intention to show themselves, because of the horrors within…
What is this grey object?
Why does it stand out?
How does it not blend?
And what is its purpose? And what is that extra marking on it?
Shaped like an entrance…
There was a small entrance, but feasible enough to fit a common crowd.
The eerie figure slowly strafed towards it, leaving no marks on the dew covered ground, and it slowly licked its hidden lips, and it started to speak to this artifact plotted extremely deep in the antiguan wood.
This speech was exotic, it does not sound like a human, it spoke like a foreign creature who has no belonging on Earth, and what could only be audible of its speech is unknown, it spoke in a hoarse, silent voice, a voice possessing a slick touch of cat like quality.
In a short time, the thin layer of purple mist vanished, the ominous stone mark started to nudge a couple of inches, yet nothing resided underneath, but in a blink of Ra’s eyes. The aquamarine carving on the stone started to move upwards, it created a soft yet disturbing racket of stones moving, as it breaks the sound barrier entrancing the entire wood. And at last, a long dark hollow corridor was revealed. Black. Gloomy.
It has nothing except the shadows in it, yet the dark figure took a step in it, and it slowly ambled through the corridor, which is short, but a long walk.
And soon enough, a small sound was heard, and behind. The light of the shining moon which managed to pierce through the thick woods was never to be visible again, the leaves, the trees would never be seen again. It all seems to end from here.
Soon enough, the figure reached the dead end of the short corridor, and there was a small brown door, but it is never sure. It is simply over blackened to be considered to be brown. It nudged and a creak stanks the corridor, and through this door. Would be the treasure.
Oh but not a treasure.
A treasure of discovering untouched areas like these.
Stepping into hidden worlds, is a treasure.
At a price…