BiMN Announcement/Contest

Everything was so cold now. No August day should have possibly been this
cold. Hosozukuri held her jacket closer, trying to gain the tiniest bit
of warmth. It didn’t help.

Around her, people walked through
the park, enjoying their summer day. None looked at the young girl
sitting on the bench; none asked her why her clothes were so torn and
dirty, why she had such heavy bags underneath her eyes, why she
constantly looked over her shoulder with fear. Their eyes passed over
her, unseeing. None of them could feel the cold.

**********

The
Detective took one last look at the haven he had been living in for the
past few months. A part of him still wanted to stay. A voice in his
head telling him that they still needed him here. That she still needed
him here. But this lead…. It was what he had been looking for. If he let
it slip away now, he’d never forgive himself. He had to leave them.
They could handle themselves fine without him constantly hanging around.

As the Detective started his car, he put a CD in, and let the sound
flow over him. There was only a single song on the CD. Some girl he’d
never met had written it and dedicated it to him, long ago. He didn’t
think he deserved such praise, but it served as a reminder. He wasn’t
the only one suffering from this. All those people who thought he was a
hero, or some kind of messiah…. He knew it was all bullshit, just a
false hope. He wasn’t a savior. He wasn’t going to be the one to put an
end to all of this. But at the same time, he couldn’t abandon them.
Couldn’t abandon a girl who believed in him enough to put it into song.
The fairytale was over. Time to get back to work.

*********

Hoso’s
hands shook as she reached for her laptop. Her fingers were so numb,
she could barely type. Why even try? It had been almost two months since
she last posted on her blog. As far as everyone else knew, she had
become another victim.

Though maybe that wasn’t far from the
truth. It probably wouldn’t be long now. Hoso could see the fog slowly
rolling in from all sides, engulfing buildings, snaking through the
trees, steadily reaching for her. Like a wall of gray nothingness,
blotting out the world around her, until finally she too was consumed by
it. She wanted to scream at the people walking past her, shout a
warning about the fog, or maybe just a cry for help. But she couldn’t.
The words choked in her throat, unable to break free. No one around her
would hear her screams. No one could help her.

********

There
were two of them walking down the night road; a boy and a girl. They
had been inseparable before, and their current situation had changed
little between them. If anything, it had only forced them closer
together.

It was the boy’s turn for keeping watch, so he
steadfastly held a flashlight ahead, while the girl rested her head on
his arm, eyes closed but feet still moving mechanically to keep with
him. It had been days since either of them had a chance to get a real
night’s sleep; these tiny moments of rest were all that life offered
them now.

The boy was listening to an iPod as he walked. Soft
music played in his ears, a song made for another couple who had been
forced on the run. They were gone now, but the boy felt he could
identify with them. How they had protected and relied on one another,
even through the hardest times….

A burst of static tore
through the music, loud enough to wake the half asleep girl. The boy
swung his flashlight around in wild arcs, panic racing through his mind.
The light briefly caught the silhouette of a tall figure standing down
the road before it flickered out, leaving the couple trapped in
darkness.

*******

The fog had covered the sun and all
the other people in the park now, leaving Hoso floating on her bench
amongst a sea of mist. She tried to ignore it, ignore the fog and the
whispers which came from it, focusing on her laptop’s screen. Others all
around the world were still posting online, writing about their
encounters. So many new faces had appeared recently, while so many old
faces were gone…. It was strange, the knowledge that almost everyone she
had talked to when she first made her blog were dead. There was always
that fear, every time she looked online, that she would find more people
gone.

It didn’t look like anyone had been killed today. Hoso
breathed a short sigh of relief which quickly turned into a shiver.
Tendrils of fog were reaching out, brushing across her face, like ice
being dragged across her skin.

Maybe there still would be a
death today. It was a thought she tried to fight away, but such
resistance was no longer possible. Her mind was too tired to ignore the
echoes of despair all around her.

******

The fighter
hefted his baseball bat. It was an old metal thing, dented in several
places and no longer near suitable for any games. But it had been his
companion for the last few weeks. His only companion, after the massacre
which had led him here.

The monster’s minions were outside the
cabin, shouting challenges and insults at him. For days they had been
there, shooting through his windows, smashing at his barricades,
laughing at his coming death. A few had tried to burn down the cabin,
but he had managed to drive them off. Barely.

This siege couldn’t
last forever. Even if he rationed, the fighter knew his food would last
less than a week. And at any moment, the monster itself could choose to
appear, and instantly end the confrontation.

It would be easy to
just give up. Let the monster’s minions break in, and accept his death.
Fighting was only prolonging the suffering.

His computer began
to play the next song on the playlist. It was the battle theme of a
previous generation of fighters who had faced the monster; men and woman
who had for a moment gathered together in the hopes that they could
defeat it. They had failed, but the power of the song remained. To them,
it didn’t matter whether or not the monster was beaten, only that it
was challenged. None knew how many had died trying to fight it, but for
each that fell, more took their place. Humanity would not lie down and
surrender to this monster; the fighter knew that to be a fact. This
thing had to be fought, even if the fight was futile.

Once more,
the fighter clutched his bat and opened the door. They were waiting for
him outside, jeering at his seeming suicidal stupidity. The fighter only
smiled, and charged forth, back into the battle.

*****


Hoso told herself she had to run. It was coming for her, cloaked in
the fog, slowly and patiently approaching its victim. Her only chance
was to run now, and hope that it would allow her to escape.


She couldn’t do it. No matter how much she tried, she remained seated on
the bench. For months, she had been running. Always having to stay on
the move, trying to keep one step ahead of this silent stalker.
Everything she’d cared about was gone now. Her whole life, slowly ripped
from her, piece by piece. All she had left was constant fear and
paranoia. She was tired, wanting only a chance to rest. But there was
only one way to find rest now.

****

None of the
people gathered under the bridge had known each other before they had
been forced to abandon their regular lives. They had come together by
chance, looking for the sense of security numbers brought. Most knew
deep down that no amount of companions could protect them, but it was
comforting to have someone nearby. Someone to remind them that they
weren’t alone; to know that someone else out there understood what they
were going through.

One of them pulled a guitar out of her
bag. After tuning it, she began to play a melody which most there had
heard before. Then she begins to sing…

“One AM, I toss and turn, awake in my own bed,
I can’t sleep because of a creepypasta I read….”

And for a few minutes, smiles are on the faces of those gathered under the bridge.

***

The fog had completely surrounded Hoso. Even the bench she was
sitting on was hidden, and her laptop appeared only as a shining light
which barely could pierce the grey wall which had grown around it. A
blank draft was opened on it, but she couldn’t think of what to type.
How do you tell people that you can’t keep this up anymore? That the
only way left for you to escape is to give in? There were some people
who had, in their last messages, said they were preparing to attack the
monster, claiming it better to die fighting it than letting it kill you.
But she wasn’t one of those people; she didn’t have their madness, the
insanity which allowed them to gaze into the abyss and laugh. She was
just a girl, someone who should have just lived a normal life.


How could she tell everyone that it was over? What would they say
about her afterward? That she had “given up”, that she’d “let them all
down”. A small voice tried to shout that this wasn’t true, that they
would understand… but that voiced couldn’t be raised above a whisper.

She wouldn’t tell them. Quickly, trying to finish in the brief time
she had left, Hoso wrote a short blog post, linked to another post
written on a forum. It was all a story. The whole thing had been a
story. She was dropping the blog because she was too busy with college
preparation, and just wasn’t satisfied with how the story was going.

Would they believe her? She didn’t know. But it was better than adding another death to the list.

**

The Successor held the sword in his hands with reverence. It had
been the weapon of a leader, murder, sage, hero…. Once broken, it was
now reforged. He swung it a few times, a bit clumsily, but it felt good
in his hands. As though it belonged.

So many had called him
insane when he said he was looking for the fallen sage’s weapon. Why
would he want to reclaim the tool of a man who had turned on them, a man
who had slaughtered so many innocents in an insane crusade? They only
seemed to remember him for his failure and descent into madness. But the
Successor remembered the man before the fall; he remembered the sage
who had brought hope to those who had given up, and led them to rise up.

The thoughts brought the memory of a song the Successor had heard.
It had been written for the fallen sage, on the day he had died. It
wasn’t a song written for a murderer or a madman. It was dedicated to
the memory of a hero.

The Successor hummed a few bars as he
sheathed the sword. He didn’t know what to expect on the road ahead. But
there were people out there who needed help and protection.

*

Hoso could see it approaching, slowly drifting forward through the
fog. The black suit and white body were almost invisible at first, but
as it got closer, they came into contrast against the grey background.
She stared at its head, the blank spot where there should be a face, as
it approached. There was no fear now, only regret, and the slightest
hint of relief. At last it was all going to end.

The thing
stopped several feet away. It tilted its head slightly, almost as though
it were curious. Hoso slowly stood to her feet, legs shaking slightly. A
strange compulsion told her to walk forwards to the thing; she obeyed,
feet dragging sluggishly across the black grass. As she got closer, it
spindly arms reached for her, wrapping around her in an embrace.

Hoso and the creature gradually faded into the fog, until no sign of
them could be seen. The mist began to dissipate, returning the sun. The
visitors at the park continued with their lives, ignoring the abandoned
laptop lying on top of a bench where a young girl had just been
resting.