H.A.S to be Seen

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A Story based on a Nightmare
I will END you
dragonfireruby wrote in blackbistre
Title - Thirteen
Author - Dragonfireruby
Rating - M
Category - Thriller/Horror
Summary - Based on a nightmare

Once upon a nightmare . . . . . . . .
By Tam Thanh Nguyen © 2005

It was a dark night. The moon had hid her face in shame from the world, and the stars shone dully, giving a weak, hopeless light, for any who sought it. The streets were silent, and they were empty and devoid of life or movement – save for the whisper of ghosts and the passage of winds. The calm before the storm. How apt that was, in describing the night. Inside an old, crumbling mansion, the ancient grandfather clock struck the hour. Once. Twice. Thrice . . . Thirteen times. The unlucky number. It could never keep the time properly anyway. Down one shadowed, and drafty hallway, light emanated softly underneath a closed door. Hushed voices murmured.

“Did that clock just strike thirteen times?!” A hysterical voice exclaimed. The speaker was a Eurasian girl, pretty and as vacuous as a goldfish. Normally black hair dyed an unnatural blond, a face caked thick with makeup, and brown eyes that were shielded by contacts that made them appear blue. She was as shallow as a saucer – but not as intelligent as one. However, she was “popular” at her high school, well known for her outrageously loud and wild parties that she held every weekend, when her rich “daddy” and “mummy” were away. Her name was Eva Dumn. And she was a bitch. 

“No, it didn’t.” Was the quiet answer. The girl who answered Eva was equally pretty – without needing all the makeup, hair dye or contacts. Dark wavy hair and ice-blue eyes and an elegant demeanor. Where Eva was stupid, she was intelligent – and she was reservedly quiet . . . too quiet. Some found it creepy how she would stare with an intensity that was not lightened by words – but that was how she was. She was also accepted as “popular” at the same school as Eva, because she was “friends” with her – when in truth, Eva just used her for her brains. Her name, was Di Ablo.

“Besides,” continued Di, “It’s your house after all.” A brittle laugh tinkled out of Eva.
“Oh well. It’s getting late now isn’t it?” She said brightly. Di just shrugged. Time held no meaning for her.
“The report is finished anyhow – why don’t we play a game?” Eva asked, with a malicious glint in her eyes. Di shrugged again – knowing full well that the other wouldn’t care if she agreed to it or not, it was just how Eva worked. 
“We need some more people to come over so that we can play.” As Eva spoke, she picked up her mobile, dialing busily. Di sighed, and leaned against the bed, making her black nightie shift against her body. She was sleeping over at Eva’s house, for a “study session” – she should’ve realized that she wouldn’t be getting any sleep in Eva’s house. Her artificially blonde buddy finished her call and shot a triumphant smile in her direction, and she wondered idly to herself if Eva had something wrong with her nerves. 
“I’ve called
Bryan, since we would need a guy if we’re to play spin the bottle – it’s gonna be great fun! Don’t you think Di?” Eva’s ditzy voice interrupted her thoughts.
“Yeah, I suppose so.” Di answered tiredly. With another inane smile, Eva stood up and twirled – making her own white nightie flow around her as she headed towards her glass paned doors that opened out to her balcony. Throwing open the doors theatrically, she stepped outside, basking in the oppressively charged air – the only sign of an approaching storm. 
“There!” The stupid girl declared. “That ought to freshen up the room! And all we need now is some drinks – preferably alcohol! Come and help me get the drinks Di!” Eva grabbed Di’s hand and dragged her out of the room to the kitchen. Di trailed behind, wondering if any human can use so many exclamations and still be able to keep their voice. 

Various bottles of strong spirits were gathered up, clinking and sloshing liquid inside them as Eva placed them on a silver tray – after all, her parents were loaded. Di eyed the tray warily. 
“We’re going to drink all of that?” She said, voicing her misgivings.
“Of course! How else will we get drunk?” Eva replied, eyeing Di suspiciously before she continued, “What? Unless you have something wrong with getting drunk?” A hint of scorn was evident in Eva’s voice.
“No. I don’t. I just don’t see why we need all of this, to get drunk. One bottle of that –” Di pointed to a particularly large bottle of wine, “For one of us, and we’ll be absolutely drunk – so why need five of them?” Eva rolled her eyes.
needs to drink a lot more to get drunk, and anyways –” Here, she sniffed, “I myself need more than that to get drunk. Some people around here can hold their drink better then others!” She shoved the heavily laden tray at Di and snatched up the lighter load of three glasses, and flounced up the stairs to her room. Di bit back a sigh and refrained from pointing out that Eva would more likely drink half the bottle of wine, vomit it out, and drink the rest of the other half – and continue doing so until she was obliviously drunk. Di herself, was not planning to drink – why should she? She didn’t have to. Di followed Eva up to the room, and set the tray down on Eva’s cluttered desktop. The doorbell chimed.

“That’s Bryan!” Eva squealed, dashing down the stairs to open the door for her boyfriend. Eva had countless boyfriends, running through them as fast as fashion changed – but basically – they all stayed the same. Tall, good-looking, fashionable and stylish, athletic and… sleazy. Di yawned, and shrugged on her jacket to cover her revealing nightie. The couple clattered in noisily a moment later, arms around each other with Eva giggling idiotically.
“Di. Hi.” Bryan greeted, in what he would think as his “hunky voice”, giving Di an appreciative once over. Di’s eyes glazed over in boredom.
Bryan.” She answered, dead-pan. It was going to be one long night – that’s for sure. Di tuned out the mindless chatter of Eva, and the suggestive comments of Bryan. The other two were already steadily drinking, periodically forcing a glass of alcohol into Di’s hand. She sipped at it, to avoid gaining the attention, and dozed a bit on the bed, while Eva and Bryan reclined on the too small armchair that they were both ensconced in.

“Hey Di. Let’s play spin der bottle already!” Slurred Eva, after downing countless glasses. 
“Yeah, let’s do it, it’s getting boring.” Bryan agreed. With narrowed eyes filled with disgust, Di grabbed an empty wine bottle and placed it on the floor, kneeling beside it.
“What’s the dare?” She asked tiredly.
“How ‘bout derty dansing for den minutes?” Eva proposed drunkenly. Di spun the bottle. It twirled, spitting droplets of crimson wine like drops of blood, staining the wooden floor. Finally it stopped. Pointing to Eva.
“Alrighty den! Turn on der moosic for me Diiii!” Eva exclaimed, getting up unsteadily. Heaving a sigh, Di complied, switching on the CD player that Eva had in her room. Dance music thumped out and Eva started swaying. Tottering unsteadily to the middle of the room, she “danced” and nearly tripped when she tried to gyrate a little too enthusiastically. When she finished,
Bryan clapped and wolf-whistled. Di thought that having Alzheimer wouldn’t be so bad – it would beat having a memory such as this anyways. They continued on playing the idiotic game, Di didn’t mind. As long as she was the one who was spinning the bottle, there was no chance of her of being selected to act out the embarrassing dare that Eva and Bryan can concoct in whatever brain cells that they had left. Whenever the bottle looked as though it was going to point her way, she gave it a flick to send it pointing to Bryan or Eva instead.               

But then . . .

“Hey! How ‘bout whoever da bodle poinds to, gets a kiss from me?” Bryan suggested suddenly, staring at Di through a haze of drunkenness. Eva squealed with delight and nodded in agreement. Di sighed tiredly, and was about to reach for the bottle yet again, with the half formed thought of making the bottle point purposely at Bryan – it would be mildly interesting to see how the slimy ape would try to kiss himself – when the very same slimy ape, leaned over and snatched the bottle out of her fingers. 
“Dis time, I’ll spin der bodle.” With a drunken leer, he spun the bottle. Di watched, wide-eyed and tense. Around and around the bottle spun, making a hollow, scraping noise against the wooden floor. Spinning and spinning. Spinning and then slowing down. Slowing. Slowing. Stopped.

It pointed directly at Di.

A braying laugh ripped out of Bryan, his eyes fixed on Di with shameless delight.

“Oooh! Kiss Diii, Bryan
! She’s neba been kissed before!” Eva cried out excitedly, watching. As Bryan approached her from where she sat on the floor, she felt her skin crawl at the thought of having Bryan’s forceful and greasy hands on her.
“No.” Di said vehemently. She glared up at the towering male, who looked down on her with a hungry grin.
“It’s jusd a kiss Di.” Bryan mocked. He reached down and pulled her up, fingers digging painfully into her arm. She gasped out in pain, and tried to jerk away. But he was too strong.
“No.” Di repeated, her voice trembling a little as fear took over.
“Don’ worry Di, you’ll like it.” Slurred
Bryan. His arms banded around her suddenly, tightening around her as he kissed her with bruising force. Di panicked, struggling against the hold, hands searching behind her for something to hit him with, all the while aware of Eva’s high-pitched laughter. Something cold and smooth connected with her searching hand. Gripping it desperately, she slammed the object into Bryan’s neck.

Something warm gushed over her hand.

froze. Groaned and went limp.

Slumped down on the floor, and lay there, unmoving. Still. Still as death.

Red, red blood oozed out from the corpse’s neck, as the life drained out. Pooling onto the floor like a scarlet puddle of paint. Blood dripped slowly down from Di’s hand, and the object that it held. It was a letter opener, antique silver, long with a wicked curve; it was kept sharp for sake of appearance – now it had a more gruesome use, then opening letters. Di’s hair was a tangled mess. Her face was as white as death, and her lips were bruised red, with a split in her bottom lip that streaked blood down her chin. Her eyes were cold. Blank. Lifeless.
“What – What have you done you bitch!?” Screamed Eva. Di jerked, and lifted her gaze to Eva, who was shaking in terror, staring open-mouthed at what was once her boyfriend.
“You killed him. You murdered him!” Eva accused shrilly.
“Did I, now?” Came the deadly quiet answer.
Yes! You did! I’m going to call the police to lock you up in jail! Or, they can sentence you to death!” Drunken foolishness leant the reckless girl her bravado.
“Is that so? That won’t do, now would it? Eva?”

The piercing scream of terror was muffled through the door. It was cut short. A moment later, blood oozed out from underneath the door.


Shyanne woke up in the middle of the night. She couldn’t sleep anymore. She glanced outside. It was pitch dark. Sighing, she swung her legs out from her bed, and headed down the stairs to get a drink of something relaxing. Like vodka. She moved slowly in the kitchen, grabbing a glass and retrieving the vodka from the mini bar. She hooked a handful of blond-streaked hair behind her ears. She really shouldn’t have partied all night at Eva’s house the other night, but it was worth hooking up with all those guys. She giggled to herself. They all thought that she was single, until they themselves came along. She loved to play with guys, usually having about three or more guys to date with at the same time. Eva and her had the best times doing that. Tomorrow, she would go and dye her hair blonde, and shop for some clothes for the rave. Shyanne grinned saucily to herself. And, she can have as much fun as she liked – she’ll get that Di nerd to do her homework. As she sipped her vodka, she never noticed that there was a draft in the house, as though someone had left the door open. Nor did she hear anyone walking through the hallways towards the kitchen. It was only until she saw the shadow of a person behind her, raising a knife – that she noticed anything. By that time, it was too late. Far too late.


The music beat loudly through the house, turned up so loud that the partiers had to scream to make themselves heard. Alisha smiled smugly to herself. She had managed to hold a party without Eva or Shyanne knowing – they were going to scream when they found out that she hadn’t invited them. She surveyed her party in satisfaction. She had all the popular people at the party, and they were all getting steadily drunk – or were already drunk, and some had disappeared off into the rooms. Suddenly, thunder boomed. And the lights went out. The music went out.
“Hey! What’s going on here?!”
“The lights went out!”
“Ouch! Someone stepped on me!” 
“Hey! Chill people! The lights just went, so what? I’ll go get candles, and we’ll use the battery CD player ‘k?” Shouted Alisha.
“I’m not gonna wait around for candles!”
“Hey! Let’s go Ari!”

Great, just great! She thought. Of all nights, there had to be a storm to cut her party short. Grumbling, she fumbled her way up to the attic. Cursing as she periodically tripped, or stumbled into people, it did not help that she was already a little intoxicated herself. She finally made it up to the attic. She rummaged round, trying to find the candles. Lightening illuminated and darkened the world outside the open window. Thunder roared, and rain lashed down. The wind howled, whipping the moth-eaten curtains that framed the attic window, and banging the window doors against the wall. Because of the noise from the storm, she didn’t hear the screams of terror and panic below her. She didn’t notice when everything became eerily quiet downstairs.

Then, lightning cracked.

Outside the window, briefly lit up, a pair of hands and forearms was seen. Streaked red, rivulets of blood running down in macabre lines down the pale skin, that was as white as bleached skulls. Blood had dried underneath the fingernails, and the fingers were curled slightly, looking like grasping skeletal hands from some dark and terrifying nightmare – one that would not end, no matter how much you screamed.

“I’ve finally done it!” An inhuman voice screeched terribly. Alisha stared at the hands, as they reached for the sill and hauled the rest of the owner’s body up. Snake-like tendrils of sin-dark hair, caked with glistening blood. A wild, crazed face that was taut with insanity, and cold blue eyes that glowed crazily, amidst the tracks of red that painted the face. The black nightie was torn and ripped, and she was drenched from head to toe – in blood. Fresh blood. One clawed hand reached towards Alisha. A raw scream of primal fear ripped out from Alisha’s  throat, as the blinding thought of her upcoming death shook her. In a split second, she realized how it felt to be the prey, to be hunted by the predator. The moment blurred, rushed and was over, and she was scrabbling away from the unholy figure, dropping candles left and right, their fall unheeded. Everything was chaotic, surreal, as lightning hid and showed the world in fragmented bits and pieces. But she was too slow. Freezing fingers dug into her leg, and dragged the girl, kicking and screaming towards Death . . . then the screams stopped.


“. . . . . . . . Thirteen bodies were found in the burned down house. Neighbors reported that they had heard nothing, only the sounds of a party going on. They never realized that something was wrong, until the house was up in flames. The deaths of the teenagers have been tragic. Di Ablo, an acquaintance of the deceased, stated that they had been partying, and celebrating the end of the term. Police suspect foul play, but have not released any details. A truly tragic tragedy, we will all be mourning for their untimely deaths. Amongst the dead, Eva Dumn, Bryan Firoe, Shyanne Lier, Alisha Fox . . . . . . . .”


Wind rustled the leaves of the tree, which shadowed the single, bare grave. The girl was alone in the bleak cemetery. Bending, she placed a bouquet of flowers onto the grave, and carefully weighed down a note with a stone, on which was scrawled:

I’ve finally done it. For you. Rest in Peace. You have had your justice. – “Devil” ’

The dark haired girl walked away.

On the gravestone, read the inscription:

Nicholas Bennet. 13/09/1985 – 13/06/2004. Beloved son, friend and boyfriend. We will miss you dearly.

Nicholas Bennet died in a car crash, due to a high level of alcohol present in his system. He was driving home from Eva’s weekend party. Di Ablo was his girlfriend. All he wanted to be, was popular.


. . . . . . . .It has been confirmed by the police that the person who murdered the ‘Unlucky Thirteen’ has been convicted. Di Ablo committed suicide two weeks after her murderous acts, leaving behind an incriminating confession in the form of a letter, addressed to police, informing them that she had been the one behind the murders and the burning of the house, motivated by what she wrote as a “justice killing”, apparently, she had murdered to avenge her boyfriend, who had three months previously, died tragically in a fatal car crash . . . . . . . .” – CNN

The End, Of a Horrific Tale.

Author’s Note: Di Ablo’s name actually means “Devil” in Latin (Diablo: Devil), Di is pronounced as “Die” in this story . . . as she embodies Death. A rave is a club that’s open for an all night dancing craze, and this story took place in America. Di Ablo, before she met Eva, was a “nerd” and was a girlfriend of another “nerd” Nicholas Bennet, Nicholas however, wanted to be popular, and had been able to acquire an invitation to one’s of Eva’s parties. Thinking that by going to such a popular party, he would become popular, he went, and did whatever everyone else was doing at the party – becoming so drunk, that when he was driving home from the party late at night, his car slammed head-on into an incoming truck. He did not survive. The party was held by Eva, and Bryan, Alisha, Shyanne and nine other “popular” people were the ones who had encouraged Nicholas to get drunk, tempting him to do so by the promise of giving him a “popular” status. Di Ablo, wracked with grief over her boyfriend’s death, sought revenge – changing her looks and friends to become “popular” all the while waiting for a chance to avenge Nicholas’s death. Once she had murdered Bryan, she lost her mind to rage and murdered the thirteen “popular” people, and after completing her revenge, she suicided, unable to deal with what she had done, and wanting to be with her boyfriend, in death. A dark story, isn’t it? Well . . . I hoped you liked it. - TAM


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