Gothic short stories

Topics: Odor Pages: 9 (6202 words) Published: October 30, 2014

The graveyard was dark and shadowed; tulips lined the cobblestone pathway that led to the mausoleum, looming darkly against the feeble moon. I strode through the graveyard, glancing nervously around at the shadows that lay thick upon the graves like a shroud. Tulips, protruding like withered stakes from the ground, lined the pathway, and I could smell their sickly-sweet odor as I approached the mausoleum, looming above me like a forbidding monument to the feeble moon above. “Rachel!” I cried out, my voice shattering the silence but failing to carry, swallowed as it was by the thick mist that was rolling in. Though I was certainly afraid of what dark powers might be lurking, hidden in the threatening mist, I was more afraid of what might happen to Rachael if I left her alone with the thing that had brought her to this darkened graveyard. Gusts of wind shook the door violently, I heard a shriek from around the corner of the mausoleum and a distant door close with sudden fury, felt for the first time the danger that was lurking. I trod as softly but impatiently yet looked back frequently to see if I was being followed. My blood curdled as I forced the door open, the windows seemed to be in motion, it could be nothing but the violence of the wind penetrating through the divisions of the shutters. Brilliant moonlight along the floor shone like pearls, and I left footsteps marking where I had disturbed long accumulation of dust. The ghastly silence made my body flinch whenever I felt an inhuman presence, choking me to the ground. In the moonlight, opposite me, I saw a ghostly figure whistling mournfully, approaching, approaching and it stretched its arm towards me. The ghost was pale, transparent; colored a white so pure and unblemished that it was utterly see-through. In a moment, a ghost’s ice-cold hand touched my skin, the intense horror of came over me. I tried to draw back my arm, but the hand clung to it, and most melancholy voice sobbed, “Help me, help me.” “Who are you? “ I asked, struggling meanwhile, to disengage myself. The ghost had fair hair, as fair as can be, with masses of golden hair and eyes like pale sapphires, she has brilliant white teeth that shone like pearls against the ruby of her voluptuous lips. I wondered why her appearance resembles Rachel and they both wore the bracelet that bonds our friendship. But before the ghost replied it vanished in a swirl of dust. I wrenched myself back up onto lifeless legs with so much pain and agony. An uncanny stillness descended upon the mausoleum and I again heard the whistling but this time with the echoing sound of chains. I was terrified and wanting to run away but in a moment I remembered my dearest friend, Rachel, who was still lost somewhere in this place, and possibly in danger. With this thought to renew my determination, I looked around the dimly-lit mausoleum, wary of the appearance of any more spooky manifestations. The silence was so absolute that I could hear the soft groaning of the floor beneath my bare feet. While I calming myself down, I smell the very air around me seemed to be suffused with the musty odour of decay, of ancient things crumbling slowly into dust. I looked around the mausoleum ascribed it to the right cause. But it annoyed me so much, and I resolved to find out, if possible. In the middle of the graveyard stood an ornate fountain, wrought intricately out of marble, with a rather demonic cherub maliciously pouring the scum-laden water into the mossy bowl below. Bright scarlet flowers swayed gently, despite the conspicuous lack of a breeze upon this airless night, their red faces seeming to stare at me mockingly. As I strode along, the twisted, finger-like branches of the petrifying trees screamed danger through my brain. Their compelling spell was cast upon me like a king and his slave. Every hope I once had, every dream I once imagined with William, disappeared. An eerie fog swam around, strangling the blood-splattered trees....
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