April 15th, 2024.
The halls of the abandoned industrial complex were filled with a sickening amount of white. White walls, white fluorescent lights, white tiles, and white stairs encapsulated the area. The utter lack of variety gave the complex an otherworldly, disturbing atmosphere. Yes. Such a place could only be constructed under the notion of horror and irrationality.
Down the hall, Derrick Foster, an 18 year old boy, ran with a fierce desire for survival, his face covered with a nervous sweat. His eyes darted left to right, left to right, His heart beat faster. Faster. Faster!
“Gah!”
Derrick tripped over his own foot before pathetically gathering himself once more to run. Behind him lurked a darkness. An uncertain darkness. A darkness without form. Although Derrick couldn’t clearly perceive the darkness, it was clear that nothing but death awaited him had he hesitated for even a moment. Thus, he must escape.
He wandered aimlessly through the revolving doors, obtuse staircases, and illogical floor layouts of the industrial complex. No, to call it an industrial complex was a bit misleading. It was more like a mall than anything, yet it had the disturbed silence and loneliness found only at an abandoned construction zone.
At the top of the liminal space, a thin crack of light illuminates the dark corridor, filling Derrick with hope.
“Is this…?”
Without a moment’s hesitation, he barged through the door. The warm embrace of the sun had given him a moment’s relief, slowing his racing heart beat.
“Ha…ha…ha…”
His head was downturned as he arched his back and placed his hands on both knees. He wasn’t very good at exercise.
After a moment of deliberation, he turned his head upwards to look towards the sky, however, the scenery around him experienced a qualitative change.
The area known as the industrial complex was surrounded by, and encased in, an eerie dark blue forest full of dead trees. The branches were massive, massive enough to rival the height of the buildings themselves as they pointed towards heaven.
A murder of crows sat atop the decrepit branches of the dead trees, their gazes fixed upon Derrick like a target. Just how many of them were there? A dozen? No…many times greater than that.
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Derrick was frozen.
Fear, shock, anxiety, remembrance, familiarity. All of these complimentary emotions welled up inside of Derrick.
Should I run? No. The darkness is likely catching up to me right now.
Do I jump? Of course not! I’m over a dozen stories high!
What should I do?
What should I do? What should I do? What should I do? What should I do? What should I do?
While Derrick was paralyzed in thought, a singular crow appeared in front of him, cocking its head as though confused.
“Caw Caw!” It cried.
“Ow!” Derrick winced as he felt a sharp pain in his pinky finger. It was sharp, far sharper than ordinary pain. The crow in front of him seemed to have something odd in his mouth. It was small and red and leaked all over the floor.
After a moment that seemed like eternity, Derrick looked at his right hand.
His pinky finger was completely gone.
“AAHH!!!”
He howled in pain and reeled back from the shock. The murder of crows flocked towards him as an ominous wave of death. They stabbed, sliced, chewed, minced, and gnawed at his flesh. With every breath taken, Derrick coughed up blood. With every movement, his nerves fired off sporadically. His skin was not the only thing to be devoured, however. His right out was gouged out of its socket, his intestines played with among the crows until they had their fill.
Seconds turned to minutes, and minutes turned to hours.
“A…ah…”
The moment that seemed like eternity had finally come to an end. The crows took flight, abandoning Derrick’s carcass. He laid on the floor pathetically, miserably, painfully. As his consciousness faded, a strange voice resonated around him, startling the crows.
Perhaps it was a hallucination, perhaps it was his savior. Regardless of the mysterious voice, it was certain that Derrick Foster had truly died on April 15th, 2024.