Short Story / Writers / Writing

Blackout by Christa Dixon

        You open your eyes and find yourself in the middle of a field, stranded, alone. Looking all around, you see nothing but miles of weeds and grass growing a foot off the ground.

        ‘Where am I?’ Glancing down, you find yourself wearing nothing but dirt and… ‘Is that blood? What the hell happened?’ Your heartbeat races, you feel a ball of panic rising in your body and your throat tightens around the ball. You stand up quickly… too quickly. Your head spins, the ground shifts beneath your feet, your vision blurs with the darkness that your heart has absorbed, and you’re down on the ground again.
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        You wake up again, but in a new location from where you were. It was pitch black all around except for the small starlight flickering from above. You rack your memory, trying to remember what the last thing you saw before the last time you woke up. Something about a room with bright lights, you were laying on a bed, covered in white sheets. You remember a familiar face… a doctor? A friend? Wait, now you remember, your brother-in-law. What was he doing? Where were you at? Wait… who is that other woman in the room with you? What are they doing? Why are they trying to hold you down? And then… everything is black.

         You sit up and look around once more, trying to see if you can spot any kind of building, or just anything, that’s nearby. Out of the corner of your eye, you spot a cabin with a small light on the porch across the way. This time you stand up slowly, holding your ground so this time, you won’t fall again.

        You make your way over to the cabin. Knock Knock Knock. Silence. You lightly push the door and it swings open. The interior is not quite “tasteful,” but it is quite homey. You see the fireplace still burning, ‘Someone must be home.’ You look in every room, empty.

        You hear a faint banging noise coming from outside the cabin. You peek your head out the backdoor to see if there was someone out there. You can see a pair of old cellar doors open, wind banging them against the side of the cabin. You slowly pace over to them and glance down inside.

         “Hello? …Anyone down there?” No response. You decide to go down there and check it out yourself. The stairs are old and squeaky you notice as you descend down them. The only thing you can hear now is your own heart beating inside your chest, echoing in the silence of the night. When you reach the bottom of the stairs, you are startled by what you see.

        Operation tools scattered, dark blood splattered, and worst of all, two bodies lying on the floor. You rush over to them to see if they are still alive by checking their pulse, but they are long past breathing. You see a small video recorder lying next to the doctor, your brother-in-law. You pick it up, hit the rewind button, wait a moment, and then hit play.

This is Gill, Journal Log 13, August 4th, 9:14 pm.

         It’s been one hell of a day. Every single test has come out negative. I’m not too sure what else I can do, my love. I have tried everything I could think of. There are no signs of change, nothing. I will keep trying… but I’m not sure how much longer we have until we lose him…

This is Gill, Journal Log 14, August 7th, 8:45 pm.

         I think I found a way. This might sound crazy, but I think this might actually work. An old friend found me and is, let’s say, very gifted in these foreign matters. I think we have found a cure. I will record again as soon as the procedure is complete!

This is Gill, Journal Log 15, August 9th, 2:01 am.

        Loraine, we have succeeded! His stats have done a complete one-eighty! Won’t be long now before we can head back home. I say, this has been a rather interesting journey, learning all sorts of this thing called “witchcraft” from my old friend. Also got a few tips for some home remedies! We’ll have to try them once we return. I love you, Loraine.

        Then, when you thought the tape was over as the screen goes black, it lights up again. You see a dark monster-like figure, leaping off of the medical bed and mauling Gill, and then, the woman. It runs off screen moments later. In utter shock, you drop the camera and quickly pivot around. You trip over a cord trying to escape the room. Plummeting to the ground, you blackout… but this time, only for a moment.

        When you open your eyes, you see a flickering, lamp on the floor beside you. And beside this fallen lamp was a partially-shattered mirror, leaning against the wall. You squint, glancing into the mirror at the fixture. There is a dark, hairy beast staring right back at you; it’s snarling, with white fangs and green, glowing eyes. And then… another blackout.

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Christa Dixon is attending UNCW for a B.F.A in Theatre, hoping to be class of 2017.

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2 thoughts on “Blackout by Christa Dixon

  1. It’s Christa Dixon, not Christa Brown (referring to the UNCW bit at the end). And I am actually majoring in Theatre now! (: Thanks for publishing my story!

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