Water

Water.jpg

On an idyllic little lake deep in the forest there’s a little boat. The silence is only broken by the water splashing against it, the oars breaking the surface.

Ouch!

Mike stops. It came from under the hull. Is there someone there? The boat floats forwards for a short while. It stops, wagging in the small movements in the lake. He looks over the edge.

Be careful, stupid! Watch where you’re going!

There’s a little bulb in the surface of the water. It has a face. Mike’s eyes grow in astonishment..

What are you? He says in deep awe.

What does it look like I am, stupid? I’m water.

Water? Mike’s confused. But… but water doesn’t talk?

Water doesn’t talk, water doesn’t talk, the water mocks. Water talks when water fucking wants to talk. Thing is humans aren’t really that interesting for conversation,. but you pissed me off. Get lost!

It disappears. Not the water, of course. The face.

Mike is sitting there. The water just spoke to him. Was he going crazy? He’s trying to make sense of it all. He decides he cannot, and starts rowing in towards shore.

Ouch! He hears again. -That’s it, asshole. That’s it.

Mike looks over the edge. There’s nothing there.

I’m under here, coward! He leans further out.

A wave comes out of nowhere, knocks the boat from the other side. It goes round. Mike falls head first into the pond.

Get him, guys! The water creature things attack him. They punch him in the face with their water hands. It’s quite annoying. They keep splashing their fists in his face as he swims towards the shore. He gets up on the the bank.

And stay out!

Haha! The creatures slaps hand, satisfied with their victory. Yeah! Stupid human. We showed him, didn’t we. That’ll teach him a lesson. So they go on for a while.

They disappear, the surface is once again still.

Mike sits on the shore for a while looking at the lake. That was the strangest thing he’d ever experienced. Once again he shrugs it off, and walks up to his cottage. Probably better not to think too much about it.

https://artsurdo.wordpress.com/2017/02/28/agua/

https://aljathewriter.wordpress.com/2011/12/06/lady-of-the-lake-flash-fiction/

Lake Fear

Fire!

Fire!.jpg

The flames were licking the wood in the vividly burning fireplace. Silence. Everything was beautiful. Johnny was just going to relax tonight, he’d even switched off his phone.

The flames looked almost like living things, small creatures jumping around the black wood. They…. were little creatures! Johnny was astonished. Little monsters was running around, jumping, dancing. They had little heads, two feet and two arms.

He moved closer. What are they? One on them looked at him. Laughing. It was chopping on to the log with an axe of fire, seeming to form part of him, mixed together in the way of flames. It punched an other one, occupied digging his little claws into the wood, on the shoulder. The other turned. It seemed amused as well.

They jumped forward as if they wanted to look closer. Out of the fireplace, down on the wooden floor. Johnny was too astonished to really understand anything. They seemed to have some sort of intelligence, they seemed to be curious about him. They were standing there, contemplating him. Exchanging words or something between them. The wood underneath them was getting black. Smoke.

Fuck! Johnny reacted fast. He caught the ash shovel and tried to put them out. They jumped away, running around, ducking. They seemed scared. Johnny hit one of them. It disappeared like the flame of a blown out candle. The other dived back into the fireplace.

Phew! Said Johnny. That was close. He looked at the blaze. The little fire men were standing in the chimney talking eagerly to the burning log. There are more of them now.The wood chunks were burning harder. The flames rose. Johnny backed away a bit, his face was getting too hot. One of the creatures took a step towards him. Screams.

Little fire-creatures came running out of the chimney. They ran up the walls, the curtains.  Johnny turned towards the door. A face covered it. Dark and evil. Laughing. Around him danced hundreds of small creatures. They were singing now. He could hear their words, chanting, messing.

The king of flames has come to be, the God of flames has come.

His big, his hot, and there’s no escape. His big, his hot, and there’s no escape.

The God of flames has come.

Soon Johnny’s screams are louder. When the fire truck arrives the house is already burning to the ground.

https://theurbanspaceman.net/2017/04/04/firewall-flash-fiction/

http://www.santharia.com/alchemy/fire.htm

Like a Drop in the Sea

Beyond Faith and Reason

This is one of my own favorite stories here on Fictionspawn Monsters. It’s about quantum mechanics, metaphysics and death. Reblogged today not to be forgotten, hope you enjoy it.

Fictionspawn Monsters

beyond-faith-and-reason

Roger came into the laboratory. He had had quite a hard time getting out of bed today, they had been working long days for weeks.

He was quantum physicist. He studied the smallest parts of the universe. Particles. Quarks and all that stuff. Complicated shit. He had been interested in physics all his life and quantum mechanics intrigued him like nothing else.

Sometimes his scientific knowledge fell into conflict with his religious views. He then went to church. Meditated. Prayed. And he got back on the right track again. One day, he said to himself. One day the pieces will fit.

He was working in one of the biggest laboratories in Science Are Us Corporation. He was in charge of a smaller section, and his crew, three of the finest scientists in the world, were doing their jobs perfectly. They were secretly working on a project on the possibility of…

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No One Laughs at the Duckbill

No One Laughs at the Duckbill.jpg

Duckbill was a platypus. Everyone laughed at him. Always. Every day. Beaver made fun of his beak. The ducks giggled at his strange tail. He didn’t fit in at all.

The snakes didn’t laugh, though. The snakes looked at him, and they knew. This guy had potential.

One day he was out in the pond, and the other animals were running around doing their stuff. Beaver stopped by.

Hey, beakboy! He shouted, arrogant as always. How do you cut trees with that neb? He laughed. The crocodile and the koala laughed as well. Beaver kept chopping down the eucalyptus standing by the riverside.

Duckbill swam away from them with tears in his eyes. The platypusducks were swimming around.

Quack! Said one of them.

Quack quack quack! Said the other. Then they all laughed.

Duckbill went home, sad and lonely. He didn’t know what to do. He was the laughing stock of the pond.

Tomorrow he had to go out there again, and they all would tease him again. He hated going to work. He hated the ducks, and he hated Beaver. He hated himself. At least they hadn’t seen the little spur he had in his foot. Then they would bully him even more. Disgusting little needle. He didn’t even know what it was for.

A snake came by.

Ssssshhhssss…. It said. Why are you sssssssoooo sssssad?

Everyone laughs at me, he answered. Always. I suck.

Everyone laughed at me oncccce asssss well… Said the snake.

Why did they stop? Asked Duckbill.

You got it in you… I can ssssssee it…. I can tasssste it in the air…

She disappeared into the grass. Duckbill had no idea what she had been talking about. He had it in him? He shrugged it off and went to sleep.

The next day he went back to the little lake. The ducks came by. Beaver. The crocodile and the koala. They all came at once, they all came to pick on him.

Beakboy!

Quack Quack!

Duckbill was crying now. It just made them laugh even harder. They were roaring, rolling around, slapping their hands in the ground. Duckbill couldn’t handle any more.

Enough! He turned to swim away. By accident his hind paddle foot slapped Beaver in the face.

The little spur went in through Beaver’s skin. Some kind of liquid came out of it. Poured into his blood. Duckbill was scared. Now they’ll beat me as well!

Beaver fell into the water. He shook for a while. Then the shaking stopped.

Beaver was floating face down in the lake. The ducks paddled hastily away from the scene, exchanging confused quacks.

The snake was floating around in the lake. I told you, platypussss…. She said. I told you you had it in you.

So this, dear reader, is the story of why no one laughs at the duckbill any more, and why there are no beavers in Australia.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Platypus

https://janhawkinsau.wordpress.com/2016/11/03/where-the-platypus-swim/

Death to the Metal Monster

 

Defeat

Defeat

Sir Morgary lifts his sword. He’s won the battle, there’s no doubt about that. Sir Gregory is on the ground, defeated. But it’s not over.

Sir Gregory turns slowly. Morgary sees his eye. A look of defeat. Of hate. Once this man had been his friend. Together they had won battles, they had slaughtered and raped, drunk on victory. That is a long time ago.

He lets the heavy broadsword fall. Cuts his neck in one strike. Gregory’s head falls to the ground.

It’s still staring at him.

The rest of Sir Gregory stays on one knee.

Strange. Sir Morgary wipes the blood off his blade. He turns around and walks toward his horse. He was bringing news to his king. Now they aren’t all bad.

The saddle is a bit loose. He tightens it. He hears a sound behind him. A sound of chain mall moving. Metal scraping on metal.

There. The body has fallen. He turns around to have a last look at his kill before he leaves.

Sir Gregory is standing. His head still lies on the ground, still staring at Morgary. Morgary lifts his sword in disbelief. The lack of logic scares him. He knows how to handle fear. He attacks. Pierces his sword into the headless warrior’s chest. Through the metal. Straight into his heart.

His sword’s stuck. The decapitated body stands. The head on the ground starts laughing. First a giggle. Then stronger. It laughs like a madman as it’s body lifts his sword.

The sword goes down over Morgary’s right shoulder. It comes out under his left arm. A clean cut. He falls to the ground in two pieces.

Gregory picks up his head. He walks over to his dead opponent’s horse. Holds his head up, looking to the east. He jumps up on the animal and rides towards town. Vengeance will be his.

https://esoterx.com/2016/11/13/the-headless-hitchhiker-of-st-leonards-forest/

http://www.musikitty.com/headless_horseman.html

The Strange Nest

A Cure For Loneliness

Another great story by Orchid’s Lantern.

Orchid's Lantern

img_0471

A gust of wind slaps my freshly shaved head as a metal door swings back to release me. Suddenly the world feels aggressive and alien. The lights are too bright yet the shade is too dark, the air is too harsh. It’s only because the wound is so fresh, I remind myself. I will adjust, I know.

A fool on the hill is muttering something about quantum theory only existing since we admitted to killing our own god. “You are living on waves of decay!” He rants, furious that no one is listening to him.

It has been years since these streets were packed full of commuters and consumers. A pang of nostalgia hits me whenever I think of the days when human contact was a near constant occurrence; such a juxtaposition to the desolate state of modernity.

With my fingertips I feel the row of stitches that…

View original post 549 more words

Do You Want to Know the Future?

Do You Want to Know the Future?.jpg

Today was Saturday, so he had all the day to do whatever he wanted. A fair was in town, so he stopped by it. He went alone. His friends were rather boring and only wanted to stay home and play video games.

He’s walking around, looking. People throwing stuff at tin cans to win stuffed animals. Music from loudspeakers, music from carousels, all mixed in a symphony of noise. Children everywhere, parents trying to keep track of them. Colours. Lights.

An old gypsy-woman comes walking up to him.

Do you want to know the future? Her eyes are glaring. He doesn’t want to know the future, and he definitely does not believe she could tell him. Here! A gift! He doesn’t want the gift, either. Usually they want something in return in his experience. He backs away. She grabs his hand and puts something in it. Be careful!

She disappears into the crowd.

He stood there, looking for her. She was gone. In his hand he held a crystal ball. Round and beautiful, the size of a big marble. It had small facets, plain surfaces, all the same size and form. Inside he could see something move, like if it had life. He peered closer.

He sees himself. He’s running down a slope. He has the same clothes he’s wearing right now. He falls, stays on the ground holding his hands on his leg. It seems to be broken.

This was either some kind of joke, or he just saw the future. He didn’t want that future, but the crystal ball was awesome.

He left the carnival. It had been fun for a while, but now he was tired. He wanted to go home. He wanted to get back to where he was living.

He started walking down the slope towards town, when he realized it was the slope from the vision. The slope he’d seen himself run down, where he’d fall and break his leg.

Haha! I’ve outsmarted you this time, future! He takes another way, crossing the big national road. He’s halfway across when he hears a loud low-frequence motor humming accompanied with a deep beeping sound. He turns. He sees a trailer coming at him at high speed. It’s the last thing he ever sees.

The crystal ball flew out of his hand and landed unharmed in the grass on the other side.

https://10000hoursleft.wordpress.com/2015/05/22/timeline/

https://mindfump.com/2017/03/15/62-oops-turned-into-nostradamus-2/

The End of Days

Dystopia Pt 3/3

Dystopia Pt3

First part. Second part.

The park was as beautiful as always. Kids playing, adults chatting. Life had become so easy. Tanya was sitting on the bench watching actors doing a play. Real art, art created for the art itself, not to survive, not to make money. Her teddy was lying on the bench beside her. She was laughing, applauding.

….

Malak got up between the assembly lines. Gunshots. He ran, stepping on toys and things going down the line. Drones were coming after him. At the end of the line there was an opening. He could see the dark sky. He ran towards the edge.

In a distance he could see the cotton fields. Where there once had been people living, cultivating food for their families, now there was cotton as far as the eye could see. Enormous machines were harvesting. Any living creature entering would be killed.

Far underneath he saw robots working. Transport vehicles going out through the highly guarded gate. The fall was too high. He turned, wanting to run back, but the drones were coming. A machine gun pointed right at him.

He fell over the edge.

….

I forgot my teddy bear!

We can’t go back now, there’s no time. Grandma’s waiting.

But I really liked him…

Don’t worry, sweetheart. We can always buy you a new one.

…..

Mika’s mother was standing by her kitchen. Tears were running down her cheeks. If the poor child wasn’t back by now, he probably wouldn’t be. How could she send a child on such a dangerous mission? Regrets. Shame. She heard the hatch open.

Malak. He had fallen in the transport vehicle, the toys had reduced his fall. The drones had not been able to detect him underneath them. He had scratches and wounds all over, and his clothes were even worse than when he left, but he was whole and alive.

He had a metal lever in one hand, the broken piece to the electricity generator. In the other he held a teddy bear.

A brown one with a red band around it’s neck.

http://www.globalissues.org/issue/235/consumption-and-consumerism

https://www.becomingminimalist.com/escaping-excessive-consumerism/

http://verdant.net/society.htm

Dystopia Pt 2/3

Dystopia Pt2.jpg

First part of the story can be found here.

Malak went over the field. It was dark, but the dry sand did not give much shelter. He got closer. There was a hole in the fence. He went through it.

A killer robot came by. In a distance he could see the flying ones. He was more scared of the walker, even though the flying ones were usually more dangerous. They moved almost like humans.

He got closer to the big factory building. He moved close to the ground so the robots would not see him. Some had lights in front, they were the easy ones to avoid. Others could see in the dark. He got in where the cotton entered the building. He jumped onto the assembly line and let himself be pulled in.

….

All the presents was lying in a big pile in her room. She had so many things she didn’t even have room for them any more. That’s the way life should be, as far as she knew.

Today she was going to the park with her mum and dad. They did that a lot. People mostly did what they wanted, no one hardly worked any more. There was no need.

She brought her little teddy, her new favourite toy.

….

Knives cutting the cotton. They were getting closer. Fast. He crawled the opposite way on the band, but not fast enough. A gap on one side, passing by, just for a moment. He jumped in.

He came out under the lines. There were robots everywhere. Some seemed harmless, working, moving things. Others he knew from before. He moved under the lines until he found the machine Mika’s mother had told him about.

He started screwing off the screws. Removed a plate on the side. There it was, the piece she had shown him. He got it out. The machines stopped.

Alarm. He hurried towards the hole he’d come in from. A robot blocking his way. Two drones were moving in under the assembly lines.

To be concluded tomorrow.

https://www.theguardian.com/sustainable-business/2016/feb/24/automation-end-work-obsessed-society-dystopia-jobs

https://youmethepostapocalypse.wordpress.com/2017/05/18/earth-2100/

Dystopia Pt 1/3

Dystopia pt.1

Today was Tanya’s birthday. The last of the many gifts was a teddy bear. A brown one, with a red band around it’s neck.

It’s the best present of them all! She said, giving both her parents a big hug.

….

It’s a rat! Said Mika exited. Go ‘round, get it!

Malak jumped over the barrel and stuck his pointed stick down behind it. Got it! Proud he held the rat in the air. It was still shaking.

Malak and Mika hadn’t seen the world before the automation. Before the great war. They said people worked in the factories and on the fields back then. People were needed. Now things was changed.

They said there were other lands far away, on the other side of huge walls and on the other side of the sea. Lands where they used the things made in the factories, ate the food grown in the fields. Here there was nothing. The fields were closed in by electric fences. The factories guarded by robots and drones. The owners no longer needed even to step on their soil. Everything was done by machines.

They heard a sound. A metallic sound nearby.

Shhhh! Said Malak. Get down. They lay on the ground. A robot was passing by. It walked on two legs, had guns for arms. Grenade launchers. A killing machine, hunting humans. Malak had seen them before, many times. He would never forget the day they eradicated his family.

Humans in the third world were considered pests. They were in the way of production.

The robot passed them. They were safe for now, relatively speaking.

They got back home. They opened the little hatch to get into the underground tunnels they lived in. Sewers, they were once called. Now they were homes. Mika’s mother was waiting.

Look, we caught a rat!

Thank God, she said. One rat weren’t much food, but at least it was a big one. She started the electric oven. Lights went out.

Not again… She said, and got a torch. She went through a door and down a hallway. She came back with a dark look on her face.

A piece of the generator is broken. Your father got into the factory and stole it, but it was a lot less guarded back then. Now it’s even more difficult than when he… She stopped. Mika concentrated of keeping back his tears.

I’ll go, said Malak.

You..? You can’t, it’s too dangerous. You’re just a child.

You’re so nice to me. I want to help. And I know how to get into the factory.

Mika’s mother said nothing, just looked at the little boy who had arrived so suddenly. He had survived against all odds.

Besides, I’m not as clumsy as you grown ups! He laughed. She didn’t, but it was settled. Malak would go into the factory. Without electricity they would be doomed.

….

Goodnight little princess. I hope your new teddy bear gives you sweet dreams.

He will for sure! I love him. He’s the best present ever.

 

To be continued tomorrow.

https://www.neondystopia.com/cyberpunk-politics-philosophy/automation-and-the-prospects-of-anti-tech-politics/

https://utopiaordystopia.com/tag/automation-and-trump-voters/

The End of Days

Do You Think I Look Fantastic?

A fresh and promising blog for us fans of the dark. Check it out. The illustrations are original, too.

Featured Image -- 3698

Edgar Arron Poe

The early hours of the morning aren’t a time that you want to be getting ready for a funeral. I had only just woken up, and my miserable husband was already rushing me on, so he could see his sister’s dead body. He didn’t even want to be at the event. I, on the other hand, was looking forward to spending time with the family members that you only ever see when somebody has passed away, but I needed to make sure that I looked my worst for all of the people that were attending the best day of his sister’s life.

“Stop taking so long to put on your face,” my husband screamed from the bottom of the stairs. “I know those new cosmetics that I bought you are fantastic, but I really want to get out the house.”

“I’ll be down in a minute,” I replied, knowing that…

View original post 869 more words

Ghost Train

Night Train.jpg

Jaques was sitting in the cockpit of the train looking forward. It was late night, and he couldn’t wait to get home. Find a good movie online, and just relax until he fell asleep.

Something strange could be seen in the distance. He stood up. At first he didn’t believe it, these things shouldn’t happen. But it was. Something was coming towards them on the tracks. Another train. It had no lights. He knew it was already too late.

Marie and Jerome had gotten a first class ticket. There was good food, and the seats was comfortable. They were sitting in front of each other. Jerome had gotten the better seat, the one facing the way they were going. An elderly lady was sitting beside him.

Finally! Said Jerome. I needed to get away now.

Me too, smiled Marie. This is going to be the best vacation ever!

Sure is. I love going on trains as well. Such a relaxing and safe way of travelling.

It’s not always safe, said the old woman. Jerome turned towards her. He had to concentrate not to laugh. Strange thing to say out of nowhere.

Why do you say that?

There was an accident here on this track many, many years ago. Said the old woman

Really? Answered Marie, ignoring the ridiculing look Jerome sent her.

Well, they say it wasn’t even an accident. She added.

What happened?

Two trains went opposite directions on the same tracks. They say it was an insurance scam. That the company did it on purpose, and they got away with it, too. Lots of people died.

That’s horrib….

Jerome fell forward. Marie’s food went flying. Suitcases were falling down from the luggage shelves.

Jaques was lying on the brake lever. Trains take a long time to stop. He was sure he was going to die.

Impact.

A man was throwing coal into an oven. His body was strange, like if they were crushed, ripped to pieces and put together again.

Time seemed to stop when Jerome was mid-air. Everything was changed. The wagon. The people. The furniture was older, the seats had leather cover. The walls were made of wood. A man and a woman were sitting in front of him where his girlfriend just had been. The man had a top hat on his head. His head was crushed, skin floating in the airs as textile under water. Bones sticking out. He was smiling. The woman by his side had a white dress. On some parts. One of her thighs could be seen. It was just a bone, broken into pieces.It was a horrible sight.

Reality came back. Like when you get your head out of the silence of the water. Jerome crashed into the seat in front. Marie’s food splashed out on her dress. The woman beside them fell on the floor. She screamed. Her arm was in a strange position, broken.

The train had stopped. Jerome looked over to the rest of the passengers. They were all as confused as him. The lady with the broken arm was moaning. Jerome was helping her up in her seat.

The driver came half falling into the wagon.

Did you see the…? He stopped. Their faces were as white as his. They’d all seen it.

Silence.

I guess we’ll have to get going, Jaques said after a while and went back into the locomotive. The train started slowly. Soon they were going again. No one spoke the rest of the journey.

http://www.everywritersresource.com/shortstories/ghost-train-by-grey-harlowe/

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ghost_train_(folklore)

His Grandpa’s Cabin

Like a Drop in the Sea

Like Drops in the Sea.jpg

He was hanging from the tap he had been born out of. Hanging. Hanging. All he ever did was hanging. He liked hanging. He was made for hanging, and he never would stop hanging. He thought.

Underneath him there was… A surface. It seemed to be of the same substance as him, only bigger. So much bigger it seemed to follow other rules. Other ways. He could not imagine this big surface hanging like he did.

He was scared of the surface, but at the same time it intrigued him. He felt an urge to join it. To explore it. What was the Surface? Why was it there? Where did it come from?

He fell. Fell towards the Surface. He met it. Felt an impact. There was something underneath the surface. More of him. There was no longer him and the surface, it was only him. He was the surface, and the surface was him.

Some day he would be part of other drops like the one he was before. He would be steam, he would be ice. Some day he’d be part of the sea.

https://twovoicesinonetransmission.com/2017/04/29/cyanide-soup-for-the-soul/

http://www.mindbodynetwork.com/article/the-number-of-minds-in-the-universe-is-one

Beyond Faith and Reason

 

 

Liquid Ink

liquid ink

After her father died things had gotten worse. Her mother never let her out. Ever. She didn’t go to school. She didn’t have friends. Most of the time she was locked up in her room, like now. Her mother would unlock the door when she needed her.

Her only pleasure was to draw. To paint. The Ink. She wet the paper, as she always did. The contours of a tower took form in the glistening water. She dipped the brush in the ink bottle, took it down on the paper, moving it under the roof and down one wall where the darker areas would be. Then she let the ink flow.

She loved how it moved. It was like it had a life on it’s own, like if she was the spectator. It was magic. The tower came to life.

A girl appeared in the window. She hadn’t even planned for that. A face took form. It was her face. It was her.

Dark shadows floated around her. On the desk. In the air. It stained the walls. The ceiling.

She was sitting by a desk in a room of stone walls. There was nothing else in the room but an old chest. She was gone.

She heard someone crying. A weep of deep, bottomless sorrow, a cry of loss of loved ones and despair. The door was open.

There was a steep, winding stone staircase going down.

It was dark. She walked slowly, following the sound. She saw light coming out from under a door further down. She heard voices. Noises. Someone shouting. She knew that voice. Her mother. She couldn’t tell the words, but knew to whom ever she was shouting at, the words would be hurtful. She passed the door, down the dark staircase.

She kept following the stairs. Another door. This one was open. She saw her father, dead on the bed. Her mother standing besides him with a knife in her hand. Her back towards her. She turned. Looked right at her. She closed the door and ran.

On the bottom of the stairs there was darkness. She heard the crying clearly now. It was her father. She moved slowly, carefully. So much pain. So much sorrow.

Father? She said. Is that you?

Her eyes were adapting. Her father was sitting on the floor. Someone was lying beside him.

Why didn’t you leave, he said. Sadness. Despair.

A light came on. A small flame in an alcohol lamp. She saw herself lying there. She held a rose in her hands. Her throat was cut.

You have to go. Now! His back still towards her.

She didn’t answer. She couldn’t move.

He turned. His face was twisted. Tortured.

Run!!! He screamed. She turned. Her mother was there. Floating, like liquid. Changing form. Dark, grey and black forms of evil. Laughing. The forms filled the room.

She ran. She ran down a long hall. The walls were changing. Twisting. She could hear her mother’s evil laughter. Behind her, in front of her. Everywhere. A light. She ran towards it. Another door. It was closing. She threw herself at it.

She fell into the daylight. Turned around, fast, as to defend herself. She saw their house. She was back in the real world, in their yard. The shadows were gone.

Jane? Her mother’s voice from inside the house, upstairs.. She was angry. Jane, where are? I told you to stay in your room! How did you get out, anyway?

She got up and ran without looking back. She never returned.

http://www.kongregate.com/games/TheGameKitchen/the-last-door-chapter-1-the-letter

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ink

Domestic Violence