A/N: This is the creepiest one-shot I’ve thought of writing in a while. So I’m going to include the spookiest song I’ve ever heard. Credits go to FowlStar and Immortal for beta-ing and improving the one shot(and in Fowlie’s case, making me crack up, big time. I will never look at scary scenes the same way again).
Ghost in the Mirror(loop)
White froth, iridescent. Rainbows, glaring, mocking.
Fear. Fear of little orbs of colour. Fear of the reflective, unseeing surface below it.
“Don’t worry. They can’t hurt you.”
Is that a reassurance or a threat or a taunt? She can’t tell anymore.
She remembers falling face first into the water. Bubbles, by the swarm, rise to meet her… She remembers swallowing the bitter bubbles, and the soapy water, as she opened her mouth for a soundless scream. She remembers the rim of the tub suddenly morphing into flesh…
A pair of hands.
The warmth morphs into cold steel, and a slice of terror, a long scar, memories that were burned into her mind. The next thing she knew, it was hard to hold on to the edge of the tub. It was slippery. With soap, or water, or blood, she didn’t know.
The foreign grip was holding her head down. Forcing her to eat the bubbles. Eyes, nose, mouth… all submerged. Clogged with the little orbs, bringers of bitterness and death.
She couldn’t breath, couldn’t think…
“It won’t hurt you, Holly.”
She squints her eyes shut, as a set of claws force her head down, and then scrubs her face with vigour.
She… can. She can breath.
Why are you scared of water?
She doesn’t know the answer. She only knows the irrational terror that twisted her stomach like the knife, the meaningless fear that threatens to force the acid up, every time she had to face the bubbles.
The colour of death.
The elderly nurse munched on the spinach roll at the cafe, her colleagues feeding her mindless chatter about their respective patients. Finally, it was her turn to speak.
“That girl, the LEPrecon Captain? I got assigned to take care of her. Sad case, really. She got attacked last week. Someone tried to drown her. Must have been quite a sight, I must say. The paramedics that found her says she was in her underwear and lying in a pool of blood and bathwater. She squirmed so much when I tried to wash her face this morning. Doubt she’ll ever be the same again.”
“Pity,” the fairies chorused.
“You know, some people say it was that Mud Boy, Fowl,”Dolores, one of the sprites, whispered.
“What? He’s been dead for a decade!”
The nurse shuddered. “Maybe it was his ghost.”
Marjorie, a no-nonsense elf shook her head. “It was probably suicide.”
Once again, there was another chorus of “Pity,”s.