I’m Not Scared #4

“Ow… My head,” Peter sat up, holding his throbbing head. Waiting for the headache to go away, Peter observed his surroundings; it wasn’t the bedroom he was in a couple of minutes ago. No. Instead he was in a filthy dank, ‘hallway?’ he asked himself fully alert now. ‘How on earth did I end up here?’ Peter noticed it was nearly pitch black, the only light source was a ‘ball? How does a ball glow,’ he looked at the ball that lay beside him.

Picking it up, he held it in front of his face and grinned goofily. ‘Huh?’ he looked beyond the ball and dropped it in shock. There. There on the wall were smears of red. ‘Blood,’ he realised horrified. Looking around panicked he noticed it was all around, even on him. Freaking out Peter pushed himself against the wall behind him and squeezed his eyes heart pounding. He knew he had to get out of there but he was too scared. ‘Is there even a way out?’ he thought hopelessly, ‘How did I end up here in the first place? I remember playing that game and going to bed but how…?’ Shaking himself out of his thoughts, he took a deep breath.

He walked over to the ball and picked it up. Peeking open one eye Peter fought off the urge to panic. ‘O-okay,’ Peter started walking down the corridor, lightly stepping over a disembodied head. On and on until found a doorway. Peter entered cautiously but once he had fully entered the room, he was locked in by a large, ‘moving?’ wall.

‘Okay so I’m stuck, there’s gotta be a way out,’ he thought as he searched for an exit or hole, anything to get out. Up, he looked. ‘There!’ there, in the ceiling was a trapdoor. ‘But how can I reach that?’ he thought uselessly looking at his arms, ‘I’m too short.’

Giving up, Peter sat against the wall. ‘I wonder where mum…’ his train of thought was cut off as the room jerked and the walls started to close in, the room seemed to get smaller because the trapdoor within minutes became reachable. Peter reached out his arms, opening his hands wide to grab a hold of it of the handle. But at the same time forgot about the ball of light in his hands. It dropped to the ground and rolled along until… ‘Click’. The floor started to rumbled even more and then he was falling. For a second then he jerked to a stop as his hand held onto the handle. He realised that couldn’t support his weight as it fell open, leaving him dangling above a pit of spikes.

He could see them even in the darkness because the ball was stuck between them; it gave off a ghostly glow, highlighting the bloody rotting guts of past victims. Swallowing, Peter moved his other hand to grasp firmly onto the handle but he could feel the door slowly start to come away. Tears pricked his eyes, this was the end. He knew it.

“Peter!” Peter looked up to see a shadowed figure leaning over the edge, a hand stretched out towards him, “Grab my hand!”

Peter shook his head and closed his eyes. That monster was back, ‘I want my light back,’ he thought pathetically. Slowly the door came loose and he was falling. Falling, until he was stopped, he opened his eyes to see the figure holding his wrist tightly, the glowing red eyes locked directly onto him. Peter grabbed onto the hand and was pulled up.

Holding onto the figure burying his head into the other’s chest he cried. The figure whispered words of comfort to him until Peter realised who it was.



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