The Haunting in Connecticut: My first attempt at this fandom
I may keep going with this and turn it into a little story. I'll think about it.
Title: The Boy on Fire
Character[s]: Matt, Jonah
Summary: That night I didn't get any sleep.
Disclaimer: I in no way, shape, or form own the movie.
His body was scorched and blackened, like chicken that had been forgotten on a grill during the summer. One giant scab is what he was, staring at me through permanently blood shot eyes. I watched his face, if you could call it that. His mouth was just an open wound that gurgled noises at me, and I was shaking on my bed as he crawled closer over my mattress. I watched his hands, the nails had been burnt off, and the fingers were only protruding ligaments poking off his body. It must have been difficult for him to drag himself with such useless looking limbs. I watched the crisp and dead skin peeling off of his body from the friction of his flesh rubbing against my sheets, and it left a little trail of ash particles behind him. I shuddered as he finally stopped in front of me and he was so close now that his breath blew gently against my face, causing every hair on my body to rise despite his breath being as hot as fire warmed coals. The blood in my veins though, was as cold as ice. I shuddered violently; my spine was trembling inside of me, my ribs rattled against my sides. I watched my breath escape my lips in a long puff of air, like smoke from a cigarette burning idly in the little holder of an ash tray. My eyes refused to look up and acknowledge the dead boy staring at me.
"What do you want from me?" I whimpered in the smallest of voices.
I swallowed the pool of spit that had formed in my throat finally, and mustering up my courage slowly looked up, taking in every inch of leather like black skin on his form. They stopped only on the strained red eyeballs in his head that's gaze was locked on me. I could feel my agape lips stuttering, trying to form something to say. I must have looked like a mess, sitting there sweating, body in a tremor like I was having a seizure. I was frozen solid, stiff, like a block of wood. Time seemed irrelevant as we simply stared at one another. I could not find my voice for one single moment; it had caught in my throat, turned into a little lump that prevented me from even breathing. The heart in my chest was blazing like a fire, beating so rapidly and it just wouldn't stop. My body was quaking harder, and I felt my eyes rolling back into my head. Reality was gone, and I was staring at that boy I had been seeing for the past week now across from me, watching me, just standing there unspeaking or phased. And all I did was blink and he was suddenly in front of me now, so close I could feel him, but it wasn't the type of feel you think you'd get. It was like a brush of something, air, so light and soft you wondered if it was real. His hand reached up and hovered over my cheek, his eyes scathed up and down my body longingly, distant and curious. I couldn't close my eyes, even as he leaned closer, and that gentle touch once again blew over my face like a summer breeze. The smell was sickeningly sweet at first, but when his face was close enough the smell of smoke burned my nostrils. I wanted to cough but couldn't. I felt so helpless with him so near.
"Help them."
I didn't realize my eyes had finally closed, and I was shaking again. My body was on fire, so warm, and I was burning! It wouldn't stop. I could feel the flames licking at my feet, slowly engulfing me as if they were a mouth swallowing me whole. And when I finally opened my eyes, I was in my room. Sweat glistened on every inch of my body, little beads of it ran down my temple, and my bangs were sticking to my forehead. My breathing was slowly calming back down to its normal pace. I immediately scrambled for the bed side lamp and switched the light on. But even as I searched the basement room for that boy, or even the burnt corpse, only the slightly furnished room met my gaze. I had been dreaming again. I was alive and I was okay, even though it had been so real. I think I sighed a tiny breath of relief at that as I switched the lights back off and turned over into my bed. I cuddled into the blankets, and stared at the cement wall in front of me.
That night I didn't get any sleep.
Title: The Boy on Fire
Character[s]: Matt, Jonah
Summary: That night I didn't get any sleep.
Disclaimer: I in no way, shape, or form own the movie.
His body was scorched and blackened, like chicken that had been forgotten on a grill during the summer. One giant scab is what he was, staring at me through permanently blood shot eyes. I watched his face, if you could call it that. His mouth was just an open wound that gurgled noises at me, and I was shaking on my bed as he crawled closer over my mattress. I watched his hands, the nails had been burnt off, and the fingers were only protruding ligaments poking off his body. It must have been difficult for him to drag himself with such useless looking limbs. I watched the crisp and dead skin peeling off of his body from the friction of his flesh rubbing against my sheets, and it left a little trail of ash particles behind him. I shuddered as he finally stopped in front of me and he was so close now that his breath blew gently against my face, causing every hair on my body to rise despite his breath being as hot as fire warmed coals. The blood in my veins though, was as cold as ice. I shuddered violently; my spine was trembling inside of me, my ribs rattled against my sides. I watched my breath escape my lips in a long puff of air, like smoke from a cigarette burning idly in the little holder of an ash tray. My eyes refused to look up and acknowledge the dead boy staring at me.
"What do you want from me?" I whimpered in the smallest of voices.
I swallowed the pool of spit that had formed in my throat finally, and mustering up my courage slowly looked up, taking in every inch of leather like black skin on his form. They stopped only on the strained red eyeballs in his head that's gaze was locked on me. I could feel my agape lips stuttering, trying to form something to say. I must have looked like a mess, sitting there sweating, body in a tremor like I was having a seizure. I was frozen solid, stiff, like a block of wood. Time seemed irrelevant as we simply stared at one another. I could not find my voice for one single moment; it had caught in my throat, turned into a little lump that prevented me from even breathing. The heart in my chest was blazing like a fire, beating so rapidly and it just wouldn't stop. My body was quaking harder, and I felt my eyes rolling back into my head. Reality was gone, and I was staring at that boy I had been seeing for the past week now across from me, watching me, just standing there unspeaking or phased. And all I did was blink and he was suddenly in front of me now, so close I could feel him, but it wasn't the type of feel you think you'd get. It was like a brush of something, air, so light and soft you wondered if it was real. His hand reached up and hovered over my cheek, his eyes scathed up and down my body longingly, distant and curious. I couldn't close my eyes, even as he leaned closer, and that gentle touch once again blew over my face like a summer breeze. The smell was sickeningly sweet at first, but when his face was close enough the smell of smoke burned my nostrils. I wanted to cough but couldn't. I felt so helpless with him so near.
"Help them."
I didn't realize my eyes had finally closed, and I was shaking again. My body was on fire, so warm, and I was burning! It wouldn't stop. I could feel the flames licking at my feet, slowly engulfing me as if they were a mouth swallowing me whole. And when I finally opened my eyes, I was in my room. Sweat glistened on every inch of my body, little beads of it ran down my temple, and my bangs were sticking to my forehead. My breathing was slowly calming back down to its normal pace. I immediately scrambled for the bed side lamp and switched the light on. But even as I searched the basement room for that boy, or even the burnt corpse, only the slightly furnished room met my gaze. I had been dreaming again. I was alive and I was okay, even though it had been so real. I think I sighed a tiny breath of relief at that as I switched the lights back off and turned over into my bed. I cuddled into the blankets, and stared at the cement wall in front of me.
That night I didn't get any sleep.