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A really DARK, HORROR Anthony-centered FICLET
Happy birthday, Anthony. I love you and I hope you have a really good day! (Despite me just writing about you getting delusional. ^^')
As Anthony walks into the Smosh House, he doesn't expect much. He just wasn't feeling too well and he didn't like working on Mondays. "UGH, Monday." He groans as he leaves his jacket on the 'lunchtime table'. He could hear the rapid clicks of their computer keyboard echoing throughout the house. He smirks and hollers out, "What are you doing in there, Ian?"
His eyebrows draw closer together as Anthony walks towards their work room. "Ian?"
When no one replies, Anthony closes his eyes, silently hoping that it really was Ian and that he wasn't really being tricked. He steps into the room and he opens one eye. Anthony realizes that he cannot move. It was obviously not Ian.
Staring back at him, nothing compared to whatever makeup his crew would put together, was a zombified Ian. Anthony couldn't feel anything, he tried to step away,run, do something, but he was sure that his muscles weren't working with him. He could feel his mouth go wide open, but as much as he tried, he wasn't able to get a sound out. Knowing that he had no more options, Anthony braced himself for the impact, the brutal assault.
But after a few seconds of blocked eyesight and closed eyes, Anthony couldn’t determine wither he had just died the most uneventful death, or if he was still alive. He tried breathing, and he was able to inhale a long drawl of air. He was hesitant, but still managed to slightly open his left eye.
But what happened next, it was way beyond Anthony’s imagination-
The pain it inflicted- A bite that would’ve left a bruise for weeks if it wouldn’t have killed the man when being attacked so quickly- The grip of razor-sharp nails cutting into his skin- The helpless feel of blood pouring out of bites and ripped skin- The agony of knowing that it was almost his best friend killing him, in a house where he spent nearly 5 years in-
Anthony couldn’t take it.
He let himself shut his eyes and submit to the pain.
Everything was turning dark around him, it felt like Anthony was floating. Nothing was stopping him from thinking that he just died from an infected creature.
Little did Anthony know that he was wrong.
“Anthony,” a voice echoes around the black, deserted area around him. Every time the voice would even say a syllable, a little patch of light drew in the distance. Anthony couldn’t pin-point what or who was talking to him, but he knew that some part of him was gravitating towards the voice. “Wake up bro, you don’t wanna miss your own birthday, do you?”
What?
“C’mon man, wake up.” The voice was louder this time, as Anthony clawed faster to the source of light. He finally was able to break out of his shell and that was when he realized;
He was at the Smosh house; in his old room; on his bed, sweaty and panting.
“Sweet jeez man,” Ian mutters from beside him. “If this is how you wake up in the morning, I wouldn’t even bother.”
Anthony looks around, still unable to adapt to the sudden change of scenario. On instinct, he quickly turns his head toward Ian, examining the other man with keen eyes. When Anthony finalizes that Ian was back to normal, he sighs and lies back on the bed. Ian shakes his head at his friend.
“I don’t even know anymore man,” Ian stands up. He walks to the door and says right before he leaves, “Kalel, Mel, and I will just meet you for breakfast.”
Anthony can only sigh in relief.
Happy birthday to me.
A/N: I'm the most fucked up person in the world, aren't I?
Happy birthday, Anthony. I love you and I hope you have a really good day! (Despite me just writing about you getting delusional. ^^')
As Anthony walks into the Smosh House, he doesn't expect much. He just wasn't feeling too well and he didn't like working on Mondays. "UGH, Monday." He groans as he leaves his jacket on the 'lunchtime table'. He could hear the rapid clicks of their computer keyboard echoing throughout the house. He smirks and hollers out, "What are you doing in there, Ian?"
His eyebrows draw closer together as Anthony walks towards their work room. "Ian?"
When no one replies, Anthony closes his eyes, silently hoping that it really was Ian and that he wasn't really being tricked. He steps into the room and he opens one eye. Anthony realizes that he cannot move. It was obviously not Ian.
Staring back at him, nothing compared to whatever makeup his crew would put together, was a zombified Ian. Anthony couldn't feel anything, he tried to step away,run, do something, but he was sure that his muscles weren't working with him. He could feel his mouth go wide open, but as much as he tried, he wasn't able to get a sound out. Knowing that he had no more options, Anthony braced himself for the impact, the brutal assault.
But after a few seconds of blocked eyesight and closed eyes, Anthony couldn’t determine wither he had just died the most uneventful death, or if he was still alive. He tried breathing, and he was able to inhale a long drawl of air. He was hesitant, but still managed to slightly open his left eye.
But what happened next, it was way beyond Anthony’s imagination-
The pain it inflicted- A bite that would’ve left a bruise for weeks if it wouldn’t have killed the man when being attacked so quickly- The grip of razor-sharp nails cutting into his skin- The helpless feel of blood pouring out of bites and ripped skin- The agony of knowing that it was almost his best friend killing him, in a house where he spent nearly 5 years in-
Anthony couldn’t take it.
He let himself shut his eyes and submit to the pain.
Everything was turning dark around him, it felt like Anthony was floating. Nothing was stopping him from thinking that he just died from an infected creature.
Little did Anthony know that he was wrong.
“Anthony,” a voice echoes around the black, deserted area around him. Every time the voice would even say a syllable, a little patch of light drew in the distance. Anthony couldn’t pin-point what or who was talking to him, but he knew that some part of him was gravitating towards the voice. “Wake up bro, you don’t wanna miss your own birthday, do you?”
What?
“C’mon man, wake up.” The voice was louder this time, as Anthony clawed faster to the source of light. He finally was able to break out of his shell and that was when he realized;
He was at the Smosh house; in his old room; on his bed, sweaty and panting.
“Sweet jeez man,” Ian mutters from beside him. “If this is how you wake up in the morning, I wouldn’t even bother.”
Anthony looks around, still unable to adapt to the sudden change of scenario. On instinct, he quickly turns his head toward Ian, examining the other man with keen eyes. When Anthony finalizes that Ian was back to normal, he sighs and lies back on the bed. Ian shakes his head at his friend.
“I don’t even know anymore man,” Ian stands up. He walks to the door and says right before he leaves, “Kalel, Mel, and I will just meet you for breakfast.”
Anthony can only sigh in relief.
Happy birthday to me.
A/N: I'm the most fucked up person in the world, aren't I?