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emiratoktaliev · 5 months

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Lets the hunt begin! - 20/12/2023 - Chapter 1

When you speak, your life is on the line - Be careful when you tell a story! "You won't believe what just happened", the words that are not unfamiliar to us. But deadlier than sword in the heart, death is more appealing than those words. They weren't until the day we met The Story Teller. The one who shut our mouth. My old mate ran to us, she tried to share the great news: "I saw him running! He is leaving us and...", suddenly his eyes, the eyes began to melt and he started vomiting nails from his mouth. While the rustle echoed through the room. I saw how his posture begged for help, but I couldn't do anything to help him. At once I put my left hand in Pictor's mouth to prevent him from making any noises, whilst I bit my other hand. We witnessed how she shook in pain and bathed in her own blood. She wanted to scream, but she couldn't, nails clogged her throat. We were in my dormitory, we hid here. The lamps in the house flashed, finally they did turn on, and the echoes of the papers disappeared. But we didn't dare to move for hours. For hours I heard whispers, I couldn't understand what is Pictor who was trying to speak to me or what? My soul almost left me, because I didn't expect, when Pictor finally whispered to me "Are you ready my dear? If so, Viktor, please do not say anything, we don't know how it works yet, please just follow me", I nodded. Like geese we moved from room to room to make sure he left us, we held my hand, to prevent my body from shaking. Pictor was always the braver one, but he looks like a effeminate man, with a slim build and youthful appearance, despite that he was always braver, but not stronger, but he was always more handsome... When we reached the dining room we saw a girl there, it was Angela, luckily she has survived. She was looking for us. When Angela noticed us, she run up to us, jumped and hugged. "I thought you are were dead! Don't scare me so!", Pictor as usually didn't like the sentimental, he straight up started asking questions: "Did you see him? Did he hurt you?", Angela shook her head and answered: "Yes and no. I saw just his foot, but he didn't attack me. I saw how he dropped this". She handed to Pictor piece of paper or maybe notes? It was a verse of some kind, nicely written and neat it said:

"Every tale has a soul

Every soul has a day it was born

Someday it is going to die.

But where does the soul of the tales go?

Do they end up in heaven or hell? Or maybe they reincarnate in another body or soul or becomes a tale of its own?

"What could that possible be?", Pictor asked, "Are you deaf? I just said I saw him drop it", Angela was irritated. I added "Let me keep it, maybe we'll be needing it in the future" I gently put it in my pocket. Angela uttered: "Listen your love birds, we need to make a plan. We need to escape him. He always finds us and we need find other who maybe were lucky to survive". I asked them "Do we know of any of his weaknesses?". Angela said: "I actually thought about one thing, but I would barely call it a weakness, rather a pattern. When he killed my boyfriend Yin said he saw him speaking, maybe it is a clue?" Pictor: "When your boyfriend's friend died, we didn't hear something", I said: "Actually I did, I couldn't say what, but I heard whispers. When I think about it, before he killed the police officer, he spoke to. He just spoke and later I found the police officer's dead body. I don't know why but I have a feeling to not engage in any conversations with him whatsoever". Pictor answered frustrated: "BUT COMMON, it cannot possibly be his weakness! It is so dumb!", "Do mean I am dumb? Have you looked at the mirror?" "jsljdmlsakdm" "ajsndnlmaskld", They started to fight, as usually. I took out the note and started to study it. "Guys, look here!", "WHAT!?", they both screamed at me. "It stands: "Page 1 of 10, The Story of how I studied The Story Teller" I said: "Look Angela, Pictor, my dear friends. We need to find other 9 pages and I think it will give us some clues. Because we don't have any clues, I think it is best to go to the forest again. There where we met him for the first time, ever.". When I said that I remembered stories about adventures of different kinds, maybe they were true as well? "No, you are crazy, Viktor I love you, but I would never go there", Pictor said. I got angry at him: "Do you have any other ideas?", "Are you insane?", "Get better ideas then!". We stopped cause Angela slapped us both on the cheek. "Did it hurt?" she asked. We couldn't answer because it hurt so much. We nodded instead. She continued, "Good, because next time it you are going to have scars! I have decided, because I am oldest one here, we will go to the forest because I don't have any better ways of escaping him. I looked at the window, I thought I was in my fantasy books, therefore I asked "Do you think we are in his realm?". "Why do you think so?", "Look outside.". We saw moon and sun at the same time, the clock on the wall spined so fast it looked like there was not any clock arrows, but didn't make any sound. "Shit Viktor, how couldn't I notice it." We approached the front of the window and look at the moon and the sun, it wasn't cold or hot. It felt nothing. It didn't dazzle us. It wasn't bright, it wasn't dark. While we saw book flying around in the air outside and the forest across the street. The forest where we met him. I wanted to break down. I needed to breathe. When I turned around I almost lost it. I said: "Guys at least we know, what is his name, it is The Story Teller", Angela wondered "How come you know that?". I pointed at the floor and there was ink, it wasn't there a second ago, merged with blood. "Can you read as well?", they nodded. Someone, no The Story Teller wrote, "Let the story begin!"

#author #write #writeblr #writers and poets #writers on tumblr #horror story #horror writing #mystical

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emiratoktaliev · 5 months

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Chapter 2 - Sister - 13/11/2023

"I see it!"

Woke up the boy from dream

While cold sweat was replacing his sheets

He went outside to take breath of fresh air

He started shaking, he cried

He does not want see it again

But he must to follow the hunt

That ancestors had begun

To kill this monster of darkness

In form of a cloud

The goal is that no one will be killed by it ever again

And his friends

The boy is drowned in his grief

In his fear

His heart almost broke free from his chest

Hitting him from inside

At the same time, he now forgotten

How to inhale, how to exhale

The knowledge is absent

But does he care?

As his only concern

That the knowledge will never return

"It is okay"

She whispered, her sister

It made her leave her bed

"Are you not asleep? I thought you will not hear my tears

Sorry, that I prevented your sleep"

"Cut those words out from your thoughts

Cause how can a sister be in her dreams?

When horror enfolded her brother?

So cute and so small?"

She leaned over her brother

Kissed his forehead

It is a nightmare to me"

"Come here my sweetie

Let me hug you and you will feel free"

"I never want to see it again"

The brother made sister endeavor the weight of his tears

They changed the mass of her dress

Sister almost lost the battle to lift up her neck

"It is okay

I understand you don't want to

But you need understand that you must...

Since nobody

But you

Are able to do

Responsibilities and duty

That only can be done by you

"But sister..."

"There is no need for words to explain

I understand, this burden has fallen to you

I will always hug my brother in need, be by your side

To help him endure, his misfortune,

Indeed"

"But sister."

"I love you, I don't care

Run away from me and your duties

If it puts a smile on your face

So does it to me my dear brother"

"SISTER! NO!

YOU DO NOT UNDERSTAND

IT IS HERE!

ÖLUM IS HERE!"

The ability which granted to

To see Ölum

Only few had it in the past

Sadly, there is only two people who can see him now

Other people at rarely occasion

Either just a glance has to witness its sight

Nor mother nor great father of boy had this gift

Or curse you may call it

However even the father did not have in his disposal

Ability to hear it, or see in the far its form

As his son, it was a problem for father, to deal with

The boy saw how a cloud of darkness

With a mask

Was leaving the mountains that had snow for their cloths

Heading with might, towards their home

All of a sudden, the boy sees appearance of room

Room of his parents?

He realized it is his curse, or gift as you may call it

"It is flying towards our parents' room!"

The boy screamed by emptying his lungs

Sister started running and climbing upstairs

"The father can kill him!"

"Father! Mother wake up!"

They both run

And screamed

"Darling wake up!"

Mother tried to pull father from his dreams

"One more minute darling"

"DARLING ÖLUM IS HERE!"

"In the blink of an eye

He jumped from the bed and took his axe

It is always lying by father's bed

Hi grabbed his wife

And prepared for the fight

When Ölum reached their room

The house was in shaking, Ölum made house experience an earthquake

The paintings fell on the floor

The windows are shattered

The pieces of roof slammed to the ground

"Ölum come out!", cried father out loud:

"The ancestral chase will end for you now"

Father heard door squeak

Turned to the sound

And let his breath freeze

Suddenly the trembling of the house subsided,

And the parents beheld

How a black cloud infiltrated their door

And a mask floated from below

The father rushed toward Ölum

Attempting to strike him down

Yet he evaded his swing,

And laughter echoed as Ölum faded away

"Show yourself! Your monster!

I will make end to your horrors!"

"Father!"

Sister came to their room

As soon as she opened the door

She dropped to the ground

And black cloud started swarming her body

And a mask covered her face

"Daughter!" Father rushed with his might

And started to hew the cloud

That covered his child

But it was dense as it was made out of steel

Transparent as water

Father tried and tried until

The son came to their room

And black cloud flew to his son

Leaving the daughter

The father hardly react

He threw his axe

That hit Ölum's tale

One piece of this axe's blade flew to the floor

The boy saw mask cracking

Ölum screeched to the son

And to the father

Crawled to the shadows and disappeared

Mother cried

While holding daughter's face

Whilst the father picked up the axe and said

"Come boy, help me take out our wheelbarrow"

While staring at his sister

He did not know what to say

"Yes father", he said

Picking that piece that flew to the ground

Staring at sister's lifeless body

As at his friend's

Trying to find some words to say

While moonshine reflected on his still wet cheeks

"Are you coming son?"

"Yes, right away."

And the boy run to his dad

While wiped his fresh tears

#author #write #writeblr #writers and poets #writers on tumblr #poetry #epic poetry

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emiratoktaliev · 5 months

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Chapter 1 - Ölum

The body of young boy shields his lifeless friend from sunbeams seas

Warm sun and cold sea breeze

Laid comfortably, on the hammock swing

With closed eyes, no sorrow to bring.

His face displays no grief or fear

Just joy and hope, no shed tear.

"Why does he not breath?" the child inquires, gazing at the lifeless one

"Ölum," the boy's father replies, "If only I'd cut it in time," he implies.

The little one had just begun his life, but fate, unkind, wielded its knife.

Ölum took him, relentless and cold..."

"A creature with a mask instead of a head?"

Father's eyes widened in disbelief, scanning the surroundings in brief.

"Can you see him?" emotions conflicted, the war inside father in deep

Joy in the legacy, but grief depicted indeed.

"That being of gray, a cloud in flight, with a mask for a face, an ominous sight?"

A spark of kindles within that his son continues the ancestral chase

Yet sorrowful for the path he must face.

We must do our job, that is not fun to do

But responsibly one

Thus we must take ...

Come, my boy, help me with this your friend

Into the wheelbarrow, to his final abode

He must make."

-------------

Two days have passed since the little one united with earth.

Yet the images from that moment refuse to depart.

He still envisions the child's body in the snow-white coffin.

The child's parents, too, that carry a story.

Once, the husband and wife stood in a field, quarreling about something mundane.

But then, the now-deceased child ran to them with two beautiful flowers.

Flowers that didn't seem to match initially but were part of the same bloom.

They intertwined in a peculiar and very strange way.

After realizing they were part of the same flower, they no longer looked mismatched.

On the contrary, they complemented each other, appearing finer and better

"One is dad, the other is mom," said the child,

While pointing to the two different flowers that were part of the same.

"So cute"

Still seated on a stump, the boy reflects,

On how others spoke, warm words, circumspect.

Of the little one's dreams and ambitions he said,

Yet, who truly needs them, in this desolate land?

Why do he needs hear thoose buetiful words

If he will never take a break from his grave.

Does the child need to hear those words so kind,

In the realm of the departed, where silence binds?

Does he hear them, amidst eternity's embrace?

Does he desire to, in this tranquil space?

Why do people care when loss befalls,

A loved one gone, within sorrow's walls?

Is it not hypocrisy, this transient care,

When life's harsh truths, we oft unaware?

Yet, despite it all, sorrow persists,

Holding the moment, in its relentless fists.

Those with mere empathy and heartfelt grief,

And those who mourn truly, seeking relief.

The child's mother, tears her only attire,

No moment escapes the sound of her muffled lyre.

Her husband, in silence, only murmurs,

"Darling, darling, darling," emotions in slumbers.

Appearing rugged, emotions concealed,

Yet, not in joy for sorrow unconcealed.

Empty, his gaze, his child is now gone,

Even as his body consoles, his eyes spawn.

Staring out the window, gaze fixed and wide,

Unblinking eyes, where feelings hide.

Images and reflections, a relentless stream,

Thoughts and musings, in the realm of a dream.

The boy takes a deep breath, aims to rise from the stump,

Struggles a bit, massaging his legs, giving a jump.

Shaking them loose, he manages to stand,

Moves towards the little one's resting land.

He picks two diverse flowers by boy's grave,

Tying their ends, a tender tribute he gave.

Placing them gently on the sacred ground,

A floral homage, in silence, profound.

#author #write #poetry #stories #writers on tumblr #storia

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