Tell A Tale — Gothic Fiction
Asha and Grim By Susan Murphy
Asha and Grim
My heart thumps loudly in my chest. My breathing is ragged and heavy. Where am I? I can make out some shapes in the dim, flickering light. Medical equipment is scattered wildly across a table.
‘Hello?’... my voice was croaky, as if I’d been screaming. I hear metal clashing on to the ground. I look around frantically to see what caused it. An aging man in a lab coat steps into the light.
‘Oh good, you’re awake, Asha.’ His eyes were abnormally wide, almost manic looking. ‘Now we can begin the procedure.’
The man cocks his head slightly and furrows his brow. ‘You signed up for testing... the formula... don’t you remember?’
I shake my head is dismay. ‘I... no... I’ve never heard of any formula. You must have the wrong person.’
The man, who I’m assuming is a scientist due to the white coat, lets out a psychotic laugh.
‘The anaesthetic must have reacted badly with you. Messed with your brain.’ He takes out a frighteningly large syringe filled with black liquid. ‘Don’t worry, this won’t hurt a bit.’ He sticks the needle into my neck. I gasp as pain shots through me like a bullet. I grit my teeth to stop myself from crying out. My heart rate quickens and my vision blurs... then the world plunges into darkness.
I wake up in an empty, shadowy room. Well, an almost empty room. There’s a broken mirror propped up against the wall. Large broken fragments are strewn across the floor. I study the distorted image in the mirror. I see a woman who looks vaguely like me. She has eyes that are pure black. Her mouth is twisted into a wry smile with a bony finger pressed against it. Her knees are pulled tightly against her chest and she’s rocking gently back and forth on the floor. Inky mascara bleeds down her china white face.
I stare at this grim being. I blink and she’s gone! My own disturbed face looks back at me. I stand up slowly. My head is thumping. I can hear two voices travelling towards the door.
‘I’m telling you... she needs to stay in here!’ The first voice, a woman’s, sounds frightened.
‘And why’s that?’ the voice of an older man questions.
‘Because I walked into the operating theatre and Dr Simmons was lying dead on the floor!’
‘Good’, the man says blandly.
The woman sighs. ‘I know he was a bit mentally deranged, but he knew the most about the formula’s effects.’
I see the door knob twist open. The door creaks loudly.
‘Grab something’, an unfamiliar voice in my head says desperately.
I grab a large piece of mirror. The door opens fully and I see the two scientists. I shuffle backwards and hold the shard out defensively like a knife.
‘Don’t be alarmed.’ The man steps carefully towards me. He kneels and holds out his hand to help me up.
Something inside me takes over and I shove the mirror shard into the scientist’s chest. His eyes widen and he lets out a strangled cry. He drops to the floor like a rag doll. His crimson red blood seeps from him, staining his pristine white lab coat. The woman screams. I scramble to my feet and run out of the room.
My bare feet pad along the floor. I run as fast as my legs will carry me. I barge through the main doors and into the rain. I don’t stop running until I lose my footing and fall into a puddle.
‘Good... you escaped. You better leave now before the police arrive’. The voice in my head is haunting.
‘Who are you?’ I growl.
‘Just call me... Grim.’
By Hollie Magowan
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