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Rapture by ~xSachanx:iconxSachanx:

Categories Literature > Prose > Fiction > Horror


“ She swore she heard the voice of Jesus

Telling her it was wrong to keep it

And one more thing, it looked like me

Back when it breathed

Rest in Peace.”

      “Rapture”
                  -Hurt
      



              A busted light bulb sizzled in the narrow hallway, swaying back and forth on its silver chain. Helen cursed the darkness, grasping at the sunken walls as she scrambled past. Her sickly, yellow nails scraping across the peeling wallpaper. Dirt and grime coated the cracked tile floor and climbed up the walls, like the fingers of death gripping the building.

      Helen’s eyes darted nervously back towards the bedroom door, still hanging open on its hinges. Inside the room was undisturbed, and light snoring told her that he was still asleep.

      Feet scuffling along the floor she crept closer to the end of the hallway. The second door was already a jar. All she had to do was slip inside. No one would ever know. No one would ever suspect.

      That’s it my child. You know what to do.

Helen nodded, her eyes alight with anticipation.

      “I know what to do.” She repeated, thin lips stretching over crooked teeth in a sly, sick grin. The skin cracked and split with the effort and her tongue darted out automatically to wet them.

      The door shrieked in protest as she nudged it open. Helen cringed at the sound and glanced back once more. But she knew it was pointless. At this time of night, not even an explosion could wake him.

      Her first step into the nursery was hesitant and light. But as she swung the door open completely, and the moon light streaming through the window slipped out into the hallway, Helen’s confidence grew. Her thin, skeletal fingers balled into fists as she crept towards the crib, her heart beating uncontrollably against her chest, like a rabid animal, fighting to be freed.

      White, frothy foam escaped the corner of her mouth as she wrapped her hand around the edge of the crib and peered inside, knuckles going white with the strain of her grip. As she looked down upon the sleeping child her emotions raged into battle. Helen hated him with all her heart, hated him like one hates a sickness eating at their soul.

      But she loved Him. Loved Him enough to do what she had to. A love that would never die. Helen slid her hand from the crib-side. Cracking her fingers as she stretched them and clinched down again,

digging into her own palm.

      Helen pulled the blade gently from her housecoat pocket, careful not to scrape it along her skin as she did so. She gazed down at her reflection in the metal, eyes large and wild. Her stringy dirty blonde hair obscured most of her face and fell limply about her shoulders. As if in some sort of trance she looked back towards the child. All she saw was him. Her eyes blazed with hatred. Robotically she lifted the knife, raising it into the air, preparing to bring it down upon him with all her force.

      “Wait!” she cried, dropping the knife with horror and wincing as it clattered harmlessly to her feet.

      “I can’t, I-I wont!” Helen collapsed onto her knees, hands held clasped over her head, pleading. Her body wracked with sobs of self-loathing. What had she nearly done?

      You must my child. It is my will. You said you could do it!

The voice rose to a blood-curdling volume, sending a chill down her spine. Helen shook her head to clear her thoughts. The wild, frantic look clouding her eyes once again.

“Must do it.” She muttered. A small menacing laugh escaped her lips as she gripped the handle of the knife and brought it again to her chest, holding it there as she stood.

She looked once again down into the crib, gazing at the child that lay within. She bent forward and lay a finger over his lips, pressing her mouth to his forehead in a final kiss. As she straightened herself she hummed a tune, and began to whisper one last lullaby.

“Until your rapture falls to pieces,

till your rapture falls to pieces

Find in me, the room to breathe

Simple things, like Suffering…”

Helen’s voice died away as she lifted the blade for the second time. But this time, there was no hesitation before she brought the knife down.

“It is His will.”

Helen stared down at the blood spattered on her hands in morbid fascination, Her head tilted slightly as she studied it. She turned her head to peer into the crib.

Slowly the fog began to leave her eyes, filling her with horror.

“Oh no. No!” She cried. “What have I done!” Helen screamed in terror.

“Honey?” Damien’s voice questioned from the hallway, his steps growing louder as he approached.

“No, no no.” Helen wiped the tears from her face as a battle raged within her. Everywhere she looked was terror. The walls of the nursury, splattered with blood. Her hands, holding the coated blade.

Damien’s shadow filled the doorway just as Helen brought the blade down onto herself.

Until the rapture comes to meet us.
©2006-2009 ~xSachanx
:iconxsachanx:

Author's Comments

based of the song Rapture, by the band Hurt.

Perdy good song.

..Perdy creepy story.

i creep my own self out.

blehh

BTW- havent quite gotten a hang of the italics yet..

and i suck with grammar.
im tryin to work on it tho.

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September 5, 2006
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