Fragmented Memories – Free Paranormal Fiction Short Story

Part I: Descent

The house couldn’t have been any more isolated. Dad just had to take us to a decrepit, and moldy house in the middle of the forest with only a singular dirt path that would take about ten minutes by car just to reach the main road.

I stood in the hallway holding onto my doll, Maria, the floorboards creaking loudly as the moving men worked tirelessly around the house.

“Don’t stand in the middle of the way, Ray,” Dad grunted as he passed me, soaking wet, hauling a heavy box on his right shoulder. “Go outside and play, and don’t block the hall.”

I sneered, pouting, before going outside into the rain. How thoughtful of dad to tell me to play in the pouring rain. I stood on the porch, moving out of the way of the busy men, leaning on the wooden railing with Maria close to my chest.

The forest was dense, but serene. It was the middle of spring, and the leaves were shiny from the rain, vibrantly green and cheerful despite the gloominess. I guess this place wouldn’t be so bad. There’s a large tree with a swing behind the house, I have my own room, and I wouldn’t be homeschooled anymore.

I jumped when something touched my shoulder. I looked up and saw mom, smiling. The large bruise on her arm was finally fading.

She raised her hand, her fingers, forming a sentence. “You okay? Do you like the house?”

“I guess it’s alright,” I replied. “Better than living in a dump,”

The corner of mom’s eyes wrinkled, chuckling as she patted my head and gave me a kiss on the cheek. “I love you,” she said, mouth not moving, her fingers and hands forming signs. Even without a word, I felt them hit me.

“Love you too, mom.”

I bolted up to my room afterwards, feet heavy at the floorboards. Everything creaked. Even the lightest of step could be heard.

My room was small; with one window pane, an iron cast heater, a single bed, a singular birch desk with a matching chair, and one tall wardrobe. The boxes were still piled on one corner. I better get started before dad scolds me, and tells me I’m being lazy again. I put Maria down on my bed and began to unbox, fixing up my room to my liking.

The gentle rain suddenly turned into a thunderstorm, the crashing thunder making me jump. I shrieked, cold air brushing against the back of my neck, forcing a shiver up my spine. I grabbed Maria, walking up to the window to look outside.

I heard dad yell downstairs, “Damn, thunderstorm!”

Intrigued by the sudden downpour, I gawked at the rain, noticing the big tree. A girl, about the same age as me, was swinging in the pouring rain.

I rushed down the stairs, finding mom in the kitchen.

“Mom, there’s a girl outside.” I said.

She tilted her head in confusion, going outside with me following closely behind. I was taken aback to discover that there was no one there.

“But I saw her! She kinda looked like Maria!”

“Must be your imagination,” mom said, patting me on the head. “Why don’t you take a nap? You must be tired.”

She returned back inside, leaving me to question who that girl was. I glanced at the swing again, noticing a silhouette hiding in the forest. I squinted my eyes, focusing on the shadow–it moved! But within a blink, it disappeared.

I rushed in the kitchen, slamming the door and locking it behind me. I was sweating and gasping, running back to my room.

Who was that little girl? Was she a ghost? I clutched Maria, pressing her against my chest for protection as I took a peek out of the window pane.

The girl was back on the swing. She looked up at my window and I quickly hid, back against the wall. I shuddered, bolting to my bed to hide under the sheets with Maria in my arms. I was just imagining things, just tired from the long trip. And despite being scared, I somehow fell asleep.

It was already dark out when I woke up. My stomach grumbled, forgetting about the ghost girl for a moment when I went down to get some food.

The second-floor lights were dim. Looking up, the bulb was a deep orange, barely filling the darkness. I held onto the rails of the staircase, slowly going down. Even the entryway was not lit. Subtle light peered through the small dome-shaped, red-stained, glass window.

The living room that was opposite of the stairs was partially lit too. Why won’t they turn on the lights? It was too dark. But I heard the tv, dad was probably watching the sports channel again.

I made my way through the hall, and into the kitchen. Flipping the light switch, I helped myself to some cereal, taking a seat behind the island counter on a barstool.

The rain wasn’t letting up, nor did the thunder and lightning ceased. I ate in silence alone, wondering why mom hadn’t cooked up dinner. I glanced at the wall clock: 7:33pm – I slept for almost four hours. And the cereal I was eating was getting soggy. I finished up quickly, washing the dishes after when I heard a glass shatter, followed by a heavy thud that sounded like furniture being thrown.

I froze in fright, glancing over my shoulder to the pitch-black hall. I ran to the archway, peering into the hall to see a slouched silhouette hunched against the staircase, unmoving and still. Then a large figure emerged from the living room holding onto a broken glass bottle.

“Daddy, stop!” I screamed, running towards mom.

I could barely see as I knelt beside mom. She was barely conscious as she looked at me with heavy eyes, her hands on my shoulder. Then she raised a hand weakly, “Go to your room.”

I shook my head, turning my head to see dad huffing in anger. The sharp edges of the glass battle gleamed.

“No!” I yelled.

Mom squeezed my forearm and I winced in pain.

“Don’t talk back to me, Ray!” Dad bellowed, his voice booming–the house shuddering. “Come here!”

“No!” I shrieked, darting off in a fright.

He managed to grab me by the wrist, gripping it tight that I winced in pain. I struggled to break free, reaching out to mom who got up and threw herself at dad. But he pushed her back down, mom hitting the wooden floor – unmoving. Thunder boomed when I cried. The door to the basement creaked open, slamming against the wall. Dad didn’t turn on the light, shoving me in as I screamed, and locking it.

I cried out for mom to help me, slamming my hands in a drum against the wooden door. It was dark and cold, and I couldn’t see anything. I continued to beg, getting tired, and burnt down. I cowered against the door, hugging my knees to my chest, unable to stop sobbing in fright.

The cold made me shiver as I trembled in fear of the dark. I heard dad’s heavy steps fading, and adrenaline moved me to continue shouting. But to no avail. I was going to spend the rest of the night here, and I cried again, heart pounding so loud I could feel it in my ears.

Clink!

I jumped, opening my sore eyes to see that the bulb had turned on. But knowing that the switch was outside, I whimpered in fright, pounding at the door again and again. “Dad! Please let me out!” I yelled, putting all of my effort into hitting the door.

A gust of wind blew from the bottom of the unstable staircase. My eyes involuntarily wandered to the pit below–the girl from the swing was standing there, staring at me with sunken eyes that were round, lifeless, and unblinking.

“W-what do you want from me?” I winced, turning my head away.

I didn’t want to look. I pounded at the door again, begging for mom to come and save me.

A harsher gust of wind blew against my neck.

Follow me.

I cried, a girl’s voice whispering against my ear.

“Mom!” I yelled.

She won’t come. Follow me if you want to get out.

Somehow, I stopped sobbing. And looking down, the little girl was waiting at the bottom, waiting for me to lock eyes with her before she turned around slowly and disappeared into the darkness.

“Wait!” I said, standing up.

The lights began to flicker and I shuddered, taking the steps one a time in fear of slipping. It was so dark and scary. I could see my breath in front of me, and I was alone with the ghost of a girl that resembled my Maria.

Suddenly there was light coming from the left. I turned to see an iron oil lamp sitting on a dusty table, its handle upright, waiting for me to take it. I picked it up, and turned around to light the room even by the slightest.

Instead, I came face to face with the ghost girl. I froze, staring into her eyes. Then slowly, she raised her right arm and pointed. I followed to see what she was telling me, and saw my doll, Maria, on a chair.

“Maria!” I shouted, relieved. I grabbed her, hugging her with one arm.

Follow. The girl’s voice echoed.

I had no choice but to follow, shaking in fear. But with Maria, I felt somewhat braver… The darkness seemed to be alive, eyeing me, and mocking me as I walked.

The girl stopped, raising her arm in front of her, and pointed to a rusted iron door. It clicked opened on its own, creaking open. The girl continued to walk forward, and I followed without question, holding up the lantern.

I was met with a long, and narrow corridor. The door behind me suddenly closed shut. I jumped, glancing behind me.

Follow.

I shuddered. No choice but to keep going. No turning back.

Part II: Asylum

The corridor strangely began to morph into a familiar place. The walls were white, the floors black and white linoleum floors, and I was faced with a hospital door. The girl disappearing within a blink of an eye.

I pushed open the door quietly, taking a peek to see what seemed like a reception room. I went inside, looking around. There was a woman, her face and lips deathly pale, seated behind a counter, and she was staring into space. She also didn’t blink. Her uniform suggested she was a nurse, and I hesitantly went up to her, asking where I was.

The nurse didn’t answer. I suddenly had a bad feeling, backing away. I nervously looked around, seeing another door beside the reception counter. I eyed the nurse who still didn’t move an inch as I rushed to the doors. But I was simply met with a longer corridor, marked by a row of singular metal doors that were opposite of each other. And they all had numbers on them.

I was starting to think that I wasn’t going to be able to get out. It wasn’t possible that a whole hospital is underground, especially a place that was so familiar, and yet I couldn’t remember.

The corridor was endless. I was starting to feel as if I’m in a loop, trapped in this cycle. But eventually there was a door at the end that was different from the rest. It was bigger, and taller, with bars acting as a small window, and there was a sign above — Do Not Open.

Open it.

I jumped, turning to my right. The ghost girl was there, staring into space. With no choice I unlocked the deadbolt, and it made a loud clink before opening. The girl stepped in first and I followed, only to be met with a dead empty room. Another familiar place.

“There’s nothing here,” I uttered.

The room’s walls were heavily padded with cushions, and so was the floor. I felt like I could bounce, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had been here before. The girl had disappeared again, leaving me alone to ponder in confusion. There was no way out other than to turn back. Seeing that there was nothing here, I turned around.

A woman was suddenly blocking the door.

I froze, not knowing what to do as I came face to face with her. Her messy black hair covered her whole face, reaching down until her waist, and she was painfully bound in a straightjacket from neck to bottom. I trembled as she hovered an inch above the floor, her feet bloodied.

“He’s coming,” the voice came from the woman, and it was menacing and coarse, as if her voice box was being scratched.

“Who’s coming?” I asked, suddenly getting a gut-wrenching feeling.

The woman suddenly fell, curled up on the ground. There was a painful ringing in my ears, a silent whisper that attacked my ear drums until I was screaming in pain. I let go of the oil lamp, and Maria, hands on my ears as the ringing wouldn’t stop.

Run. The ghost girl returned, pointing behind me. Another door appeared, but this time something came to bang on it, trying to get in. The room shook with every bang, the metal door about to give in at any second.

The woman in the straightjacket remained on the floor, and the ghost girl looked at me and said once more – “Run.”

The door violently broke open, making me fall on my back. I raised myself up and screamed for a moment before seeing that thing that managed to destroy a secure door. I was speechless, unable to pick myself up as a giant, humanoid monster dressed like a butcher barged in. Its head was hidden beneath a rusty plague mask with glowing red eyes, and instead of a right hand, a long and sharp butcher knife smeared with blood. The tip of the knife dragged against the tiles, screeching and scratching, and it stung my eardrums.

I scrambled back, blood pumping to my head, making me nauseous as I looked at the creature. The more I stared, my stomach twisted and turned in fear and disgust.

Run.

I turned around on all fours and pushed myself to get up and run out the way I came in. But I had stumbled upon a different corridor this time. It was dark and moldy, the tiles beneath me were coming off as I ran, the walls were cracked, and suddenly there were arms coming out of the bar windows of each and every door.

I glanced behind me and saw the monster chasing after me, the sharp screeching of the blades and its heavy footsteps warning his presence. He was creeping closer, letting out an inhuman howl that made me tear up and scream.

The ghost girl was waiting at the end of the hall, standing in front of a red country door. She opened it just as the monster was close at my tail. I jumped in, landing on my stomach and bruising my face as the door closed shut. I winced, my nose bleeding.

It became quiet again. The monster didn’t bang on the door. I took this moment to rest, my heart painfully racing inside my chest. I could hear it beat rapidly in the nerves of my ears, making my head spin.

Keep Going.

I sat on the floor, wiping the blood of with my shirt, noticing the blow that my palms took for landing frontward. When I opened and closed my fists, pain shot through my wrists.

Don’t stop.

“But where do I go?” I cried, overwhelmed and frightened.

I should have just stayed in the basement. I should have just waited instead of following the ghost. Now I’m stuck in a different world with ghosts and monsters that wanted to hurt me. And I just realized that I had left the oil lamp and my doll back where the monster came from.

Keep Moving.

“I can’t!” I shouted. “Leave me alone!”

I bawled my eyes out, and the tears wouldn’t stop. What was I going to do? I was trapped here and I didn’t know where to go. I lost Maria, I couldn’t find a way out, and I was almost killed by a monster. I didn’t know what was happening anymore. Was I going insane?

Turning back wasn’t an option. I was in a different room altogether, but again it was familiar. I was inside a grey room with a wide glass mirror on the opposite end.

The ghost girl was standing beside me again, pointing at the mirror.

“Where are you taking me now?” I whimpered, wiping my tears.

Look.

I slowly got up, body aching from the harsh landing, and approached the mirror. It was a one-way mirror that overlooked another room.

I could almost recognize it but memory wasn’t serving me well, and I didn’t know why. I felt like I had been in these places – like déjà vu.

The room was furnished with metal shelves that stored jars of leeches, sharp galvanizing tools for surgical operations, a saw, and other stuff I couldn’t name. In the center was a lone barber chair with straps at the arms and back, a two-tier steel trolley beside it, and a machine.

I knew what the machine was, and a memory at the back of head sprung from hiding.

I was in an asylum! But the last time that I was in one was–

My thoughts were cut short when the lights turned on in the surgical room. No, it wasn’t just any random room. It was a torture room! I could remember… Bits and pieces of fragmented memories began appearing all at once, and my head ached.

Why do I recognize such a horrible place?

Don’t look away.

I pressed my hands on the surface–it was icy cold. The double door suddenly swung open. The woman in the straightjacket was hauled in on a wheelchair by the nurse of the reception. The nurse dragged the woman onto the chair and strapped her, placing a leather that was wired to the machine, around her head.

“I don’t want to watch,” I winced.

Keep looking.

The nurse left but was soon replaced by the monster from before.

“What’s he going to do?” I shuddered, backing away from the window.

The ghost girl remained still, watching as if it were a spectacle.

“Please, don’t hurt me,” the woman uttered, choking on every word. As she spoke, it was getting more difficult to understand.

The monster took its place beside the machine, pulling the large red switch. The machine roared, electrical currents leaking from the circuits. The woman seized, writhing as she screamed, shaking the chair.

“No, it’s going to hurt her,” I could only say, tearing up once more.

The machine shook, roaring louder as the monster increased the intensity. The woman screamed, seizing violently in the chair, pulling against the straps. Her screams forced me to hide my face into my palms as my head began to throb painfully.

The woman’s screams became louder, the horrible shrieking shaking the mirror. I shut my eyes closed, covering my ears as I fell to my knees, wishing for the nightmare to end.

“Ray!”

I flinched. “Mom?” I uttered.

I raised my head, horrified to see a distorted shadow of my mom within the woman in the straightjacket. It was as if they were merging into each other, or as if they were one of the same bodies. I darted to the mirror, palms on the surface as the scene shifted into one that finally fished a suppressed memory into view.

The torture the woman – or mom, is going through triggered a flashback. The sound of high voltage piercing through her veins coupled by her agonizing screams, made me remember the time dad and I would always visit the hospital. He said that mom was sick, and that she needed a specific type of treatment to help her get better. I didn’t understand what he meant at the time. Mom was confined for months until one day she was discharged. She seemed better when I saw her. I only remembered that mom had lost her voice, and I didn’t know why–until now.

“Please stop,” I whimpered, watching helplessly as mom got electrocuted. “Mom!”

“Ray!” She continued to shout, straining every bit of her voice.

She didn’t stop screaming as the voltage went up to the max, to the point where I could see electrical currents coming out of her fingers and toes, and the strands of her disheveled hair.

“Make it stop!” I cried, unable to watch. “This is just a memory!”

The machine suddenly dropped dead, and mom’s scream came to a stop. Silence filled the room, and I heard mom crying.

I opened my eyes and I was petrified to see the living room. Mom was on the floor, crawling up to me, nails scratching on the board. She dragged herself to the mirror that separated us, but it was gone. Mom hugged me: her face battered with bruises. I cried, melting into her arms when I felt something soft in my hand, as well as the familiar coarse fabric that implied nothing but my doll.

Suddenly the living room façade shattered into the abyss, pulling me back into the asylum, the mirror separating me again from my mom who morphed back into the ghost of the straightjacket woman. The monster took her captive, dragging her by the hair out of the room.

“Where’s it taking her?” I shouted, desperately trying to break the glass in a fit of rage. “Let her go!”

“Do you remember now?” the ghost girl said, her voice suddenly normal.

“Who are you? Why are you showing me this?”

“I want to help you but there is consequence,”

“What? I don’t understand,”

“You do understand,” she said, still not blinking. “In order to help your mother, you have to remember.”

“I already remember everything!”

She fell silent for an eerie moment, and I was left to wait in suspense for her answer.

“Not everything.”

There was an earthquake all of a sudden, a magnitude so strong I lost balance and fell on my back. I watched as the walls began to degrade–like burning paper, into the void above. And the floor began to melt, distorting the straightness of every corner.

“What’s happening?” I cried as everything was being eaten up by the darkness.

“Remember.” The ghost girl said.

“How?” I shouted, the abyss above transforming into a blackhole.

“Sacrifice.”

But before I could answer, or even ponder on her words, I was taken away by the vacuum–sucked away into the void.

Part III: Fragmented Memories

I could hear mom calling out to me, calling my name softly and uttering a lullaby that I remembered she sang to me before she lost her voice.

I was only a baby then. But somehow, I remembered. And I was moved to tears hearing my mom sing. But that memory faded when a shadow shrouded my mother, and her gentle singing disrupted by a bone-crushing shriek.

I woke up in a start, staring at the ceiling of my bedroom. Jerking up, I looked around in alarm. I was back in my room! But how? I took notice of Maria on my lap, as well as the oil lamp on my bedside table, mysteriously lit.

Was it all a dream? It didn’t seem like it. I looked at my hands and saw that it was dirty and bruised, and my body was aching all over. How did I get here? How did I get out of the basement?

Looking out of the window, the hours didn’t seem to move as it was still nighttime. And the rain was persistent, droplet tapping for my attention on the window. Thunder and lightning brew, striking at the exact moment when the ghost girl appeared at the foot of my bed.

“Leave me alone,” I said defiantly.

“Open your hand,” she said, and immediately I felt something solid in my hand.

It was a diary.

“Where did this come from?” I asked myself, utterly confused as to what had happened.

“Basement.”

“I don’t remember picking this up?”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Then?”

She waited for me to do the obvious. The tension knotted in my gut as I hesitantly opened the diary. It was just an empty notebook.

“Write your name down,” the girl instructed.

“Why?” I asked.

“Do you want to save your mother?”

“Save my mom from who?”

“You’re not a little girl anymore. You remembered.”

I gripped the edges of the diary, flooded with unwanted memories.

“I don’t want to remember them!”

“The cost of forgetting is high. You know the consequence, it’s happening right now.”

There was a sudden crash from downstairs, making me jump. And I heard dad yelling and shouting, and he was cursing at mom as I heard more banging of furniture.

“Time is running out,” the ghost girl said. “If you delay your mother will die.”

“What! How can you possibly say that?” I shouted, teeth gritting in anger.

“Because you chose to keep quiet and believe his lies.”

I was speechless. “No, he would never…”

“You know what he’s doing. You saw it so many times and never said a word.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

Thunder exploded, and the ghost girl’s expression turned dark.

“Time is ticking, your mom is fighting for her life trying to reason with your father.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Then see for yourself.”

I got out of bed, climbing down the stairs. I stopped when I had a view of the living room, and everything was turned over or scattered all over the floor. I only notice now, the thin blood trails that stemmed from the bottom of the staircase.

Gripping the wooden rails, I watched as mom lie on the floor, and dad was angry. He was hurting her again. He promised that he wouldn’t hurt me nor mom ever again.

“You were witness to his rage but you chose to stay quiet. You chose to forget.” the ghost girl whispered against my ear.

“But I was scared.” I whimpered.

“And this is the consequence.”

Dad started to call mom horrible names, pulling her by the hair, and slapping her. But mom couldn’t scream nor call for help, provoking my guilt that I chose to ignore all these years.

I knew and yet I couldn’t do anything. I let dad hurt mom, I let everything happen even when I didn’t mean to. I should have called for help but I was scared of what dad will do to me.

“Write your name in the diary and I will make it all go away,” the ghost girl offered, the diary suddenly in my lap.

I was crying again, wanting all of this to stop. I looked down at the diary and opened it, a pen inside waiting to be picked up.

“I will protect you mom,” I whimpered, writing down my full name in large characters at the center of the page.

The main door suddenly burst open as if it was kicked, wet leaves began to fly in as the gust of wind blew the rain in. Dad stopped and saw me, scolding me and telling me to go back to my room.

“Stop hurting mom!” I bellowed, and my voice howled, somehow amplified.

The door was violently slamming against the wall, triggering dad. He marched to the door and tried to shut it when a mass of shadowy arms appeared all around the frame, grabbing dad and pulling him out. He screamed, and I hoped he suffer the way mom and I did at his hands. I ran down the stairs and went to mom’s aid, still hearing dad’s scream cut into silence from the distance.

“Mom, are you okay?” I whimpered, turning her over to lie on her back.

She was bleeding from the head. I cried out, panicking as she wouldn’t wake up.

The ghost girl appeared beside me, placing her palms on mom’s forehead. Within a second, mom regained consciousness, and the ghost girl stood up.

“Ray?” mom spoke.

I took her hands in mine, “Mom! You’re talking!”

“I’m what–wait, I’m… Oh my god!” she cried, sitting up.

I hugged mom out of excitement, stunted in shock and glee.

“Time to go,” the ghost girl said. “Come.”

I looked up, “What? Where are we going? Is mom coming with us?”

Mom brushed my hair before looking at me, “Who are you talking to, Ray?”

“There’s this ghost that helped us, mom,” I said happily. “She was scary at first but she helped us!”

“There’s no ghost, Ray.”

“But she’s standing right there behind you!”

The ghost girl stood behind me, taking my hand. “Time to go,” she said.

“But where are we going?” I asked, getting up.

Mom’s eyes were wide open, staring at the girl in disbelief.

“I told you she was real!” I said to mom.

Instead of a word of thanks or relief in her face, mom stood up, suddenly wary of the ghost that saved her. She backed away as if she was facing a feral animal, beckoning for me to come to her. “Come to me sweetheart,” she said, worryingly.

“Mom, you’re scaring me,” I uttered, turning to the ghost girl “Why is she scared of you? You helped her.”

“There’s no little girl, Ray!” Mom screamed. “Let go of its hand!”

I was suddenly scared, running to mom when the girl pulled me back.

“Ah! That hurts! Why are you hurting me?”

Her doll-like eyes glowed red, “Your name has been written and the deal is done. The devil will lay claim to your soul.”