A collection of one shots. -*-*-*-*- A/N: I will be using this thread to post a collection of one shots. I'll probably post some on my alt too. You may have heard a few before, as I am posting some I have on notes but I will be making new ones. -*-*-*-*- F̸I̸R̸E̸S̸T̸A̸R̸T̸E̸R̸ 1904 Burning. He smirked a twisted smile, etching the enchanting word onto a battered cell wall. Ever since he was a young boy he'd been hooked on fire. So hooked that as he grew older, Starting fire was his hobby...His drug...His obsession. Eventually he was caught, but not after causing deaths and many injuries. It was his seventh day in the filthy country jail and today was the day he planned on using his plan...Erif waited till evening, looking out the small cell window whilst leaning back against the old grey walls. When the shrill lights out bell rang he let out a maniac-like laugh. With a swift movement, he took out the hidden matches from his burnt black hair. "Up in flames." He whispered, his eyes shining. That was his motto... He climbed up onto the sharp window ledge then brought his knees to his dark ripped jacket and struck the match. A quiver of adrenaline ran up his arched spine as a sense of excitement raced through him. A bright orange flame came to life and he quickly threw it outside, chuckling as a tree caught fire...Soon spreading to the jail. To him. He slumped back against the wall, closing his bloodshot eyes as the scent of smoke filled his nostrils. He didn't realise the outline of his cell was made of wood...Not till it was too late. He let out a bitter laugh, not knowing it was his last... ---- A/N: This was originally a prologue, that's why it's rushed and lacking detail. ---- House of Horrors. The moon glistened, reflecting in the shallow puddles. Alleyways were empty except for the occasional night creature, prowling through the deserted streets on a quest for food. Ally was alone in the dark night air. A wolfs' howl could be heard from the distance, it's despair searing through the air. The sound of cars driving through the small town could occasionally be heard, but it was mostly silent. The squelch of Ally's black boots on the moist grassy earth sounded much louder than usual. Ally stood outside a boarded up house. She'd been there for hours, it's mysteriousness enchanting her. The house casted shadows across the over grown garden, leaving Ally in the dim sickly yellow glow of a lamp post far away. She tentatively tiptoed towards the slanted porch, her gaze never leaving the broken pathway. Afraid to look up, afraid to be drawn in... Eventually her protesting body gave in. Her piercing green eyes widened as she looked at the house, towering above her slender build. It had graffitied oval shaped windows, which looked like eyes watching her. Beneath them, surrounded by a curtain of moss, stood a crooked blood red door.It looked like a mouth smirking at her...As if knew it could trick her... A shudder ran up Ally's rigid spine as she walked towards the nightmare door. She had no influence of her body, the house had already took her. She was nothing but a mere puppet. Ally pulled pulled the front door open without hesitation, not knowing what was happening. As the house left it's trademark laugh, she stepped in. Her face fell as she fell into a dark abyss, ready to meet the other lifeless possessed forms who were stolen by the house's past... -*-*-*-*- A/N: Awkwardly, this too was another prologue. xD -*-*-*-*- Travelled the flights of hell. I slumped back against the flimsy walls surrounding me, my eyes fixated upon the rusty letterbox protecting me from the unknown. Red blood shot eyes looked around wildly...What if he got back early? I shuddered violently as a picture of a drunken man filled my sore eyes. What if father came home? I shook my head and took a deep breath before slowly standing up. I took a small step tentatively across the dirty clothes and mouldy bottles scattering the floor, putting a shaky hand on the grey walls for support. After a few nervous steps I made it to what was supposed to be the living room. A bathroom sized room with a few pillows on the cold muddy floor and a ripped cardboard box for a table. The walls were dull and graffitied by whoever had lived there before me and my father moved in. I pushed away a few empty beer bottles with my small black boots and settled down on a yellow stained pillow. My eyes soon finding the enchanting letter box. It's rustiness and oldness seemingly drawing me in. A small frown stole my face. I rubbed my tired eyes and pulled my strong gaze away from the mysterious letter box, confused. "What's got into you Amy? You're acting even more paranoid then usual." I muttered to myself and sighed wearily. Unable to stop myself I looked back at the letter box. A gasp escaped my startled lips as the letterbox slowly opened. I froze, bolt upright on the tattered pillow, my eyes glued to it. Moments later after much scraping and clunking a letter fell gracefully to the floor. Slowly I began to stand up, waiting a few minutes for whoever had left it to go away. Then I took a cautious step forwards so that I could see it. We never got mail, not in two lonely years... At night people heard shouting from the house and were to scared to go near, and the postman incident was enough for him to stop coming...A shudder ran up my spine as the memory flashed through my mind. Poor man. The pure white envelope lay out of place on the cold grey concrete. However, it seemed to fit in. That caused me to frown. It was as if it had a bad aura... I knew I shouldn't open it, after all, it did have my father's name in a blood red scrawl across the middle of it. But I couldn't help myself. Curiosity got the better of my weak form and I crept towards it stealthily, like a cat stalking it's prey. How was I supposed to know? Surely it wasn't my fault...Was it? I guess it was...Curiosity killed the cat, as they say. I gently-careful not to rip-lifted the letter to my knees before tucking it behind a torn faded jacket. I was worried father would come home to see me reading his letter...I quickly darted to my so called room. My room was small and smelly but it was the only room, except for my father's workshop in the garden, that was protected by a door. Even if it was hanging off it's hinges... The room was a dull brown colour. It had wonky bricks for walls, carpeted by an icy concrete floor. On the harsh floor were some furniture: A soggy mattress, cardboard stool and a battered wardrobe rescued from a nearby tip. I sat down on the repulsing mattress and looked at the letter in my pale hands. It was as white and as pure as an angel, but something about it was different. I traced my fathers name over the blood red scrawl, wondering how it was that red. My sharp fingers caressed the folds, gently prying the mysterious letter out... My eyes widened.Never had I expected that... -*-*-*-*- A/N: Left this one sorta open, you could say. It's up to you to decide what the letter could say. Next one'll be posted on my alt. You may have seen the next one before... After this next update will be tomorrow or the day after. -*-*-*-*-
-*-*-*-*- •Tale Of A Lost Flame• Burning. He smirked a twisted smile of utter evil. You could see the flames raging in his pure black pupils as his mouth released a loud cackle. His long bony fingers tossed away the matches to the black tinged floor; with a twist of his bare burnt foot the flames were out. They were gone, yet the damage remained. His piercing black eyes jumped around the fallen building. It had been a posh house. Big with many floors. Tiles and portraits surrounding the ever lasting walls. It was home to a snobby couple with a young child...Or had been home to, anyway. The building was now broken beyond repair. Walls and floors had crumbled down, furniture become alight, and smoke had suffocated everything in sight. The boy had moved fast. He had waited till night fell, till everyone was asleep and the neighborhood was at peace, before making his mark. He had skillfully climbed through a carelessly open window before striking the familiar matches. Then he watched, mesmerised for a moment, before putting out the matches and darting away from the still ablaze house. He ran for what seemed like miles. His long legs, enveloped loosely by jeans, carrying him quickly across open fields. He ran for hours, knowing people would come after him soon. He needed to get away while it was still dark, whilst know one could see him. Even if it was light, no one would be able to see the boy well though. His dark jeans and leather jacket camaflauged him well. The only flaw was his pale skin, but that was covered by small black boots, gloves, and a mop of dark hair. After running for eternity, he eventually reeached a wood. His pace slowed to a jog and he kept his head down, as he traveled into it's shadowed figure. He came to a stop outside a tall skeleton tree. His hands gripped a rope material hanging from a high branch and he pulled his strong build up with ease. Minutes passed and he finally made it to the branch at the top. He pulled himself up carefully then crouched on the thick branch, catching his breath. Tic, toc, tic, toc. His fathers' old watch sung, strapped to the boys' wrist. He turned to glare at it, hatred in his eyes. "Stupid thing. Shut up!" He exclaimed quietly, in an irratated tone. Anyone watching would be surprised by what the boy did next. Still crouched down, he wrapped his thin arms around his knees and rocked back and forth on the branch. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry," the boy repeated over and over, looking into the still dark sky. He squeezed shut his eyes. "It's okay Father. We'll show the world" A half smile played across the boys' chapped lips. Rain began to fall from the sky, as if God was annoyed by the boys' strange words. Soon thunder came, rumbling loudly. Then the lightning began to strike...Nearby. The boy simply continued to look up and murmur to himself, untouched by the drastic change of weather. "It's okay Father. That was the 17th house last night. You'd be proud. It's okay. It's o-" Lightning flashed. Again and again. Coming nearer. Nearer. Closer. Close. BAM! A lightning bolt hit the tree. It quickly fell down, sprawling out upon the wet grass and squashing the boy. Killing him instantly. Nearly instantly. In the few seconds before the weight killed him, the boy looked up at the sky. His face was emotionless, yet his eyes showed sorrow. *Flashback.* Rain fired itself at the jagged window as thunder boomed from above. The boy sat curled up on a leather sofa, burrowing his small head in a welcoming cushion. He did not care for the storm raging outside his little home, unlike most 8 year olds. His mind was too focused on the tragedy happening upstairs. Piercing screams could be heard from his fathers' bedroom. Each cry pulled on the young boys' heartstrings. His father screamed and begged contionously. The boy could hear the pain and the sorrow, clear in every wail his father released. Tears began to soak the cushion. If only mother was here, the boy thought. She'd be able to stop everything. The boy knew that wasn't true though. Before his mother had fallen ill, she was gentle, kind; the woman who was known for never hurting a fly. The boy -being brutally honest- knew she'd actually be useless in a situation like this. The boy closed his bloodshot eyes in defeat as the screams of his fathers got weaker and weaker. Weaker till silence floated through the air. The only noise was the squelch of black boots marching down the stairs and out the open front door, leaving little evidence of the mosters existence, just... 2 match sticks... And a burnt black room.... Containing a heavy, smoke-scented, body bag. After that day, the boy moved into an abandoned hut. It was the only safe place. He lived there for a long time, making his plans. He often moved house, running from the unknown. His life was strange. After all, how can you expect that event to happen and not change an inocent young boys' mind? Nothing in his life was consistent...Except one thing. He swore to get revenge on who murdered his father, not caring who was killed in the progress. His once sweet mind, now corrupted and filled with hatred and sorrow. He repeated the phrase to himself each day, "It's okay Father, I will come out the winner. I will kill the shallow being who killed you. It won't have been all worthless." *Flashback end.* "It's not okay Father...I'm sorry." -*-*-*-*-