[DreadedMartian]

Stories



Welcome To Wellington Hills

Welcome To Wellington Hills

It's a loud clattering sound that pulls you awake. Followed by the slow dull ache of your neck telling you to pick your head up. You slowly roll your head back for relief. Your mind is cloudy and your body feels numb. You try to open your eyes but they fight to stay shut, but finally they drift open. You reach up to rub your face but your arms don't do what you tell them. You try again, and that's when you realize something is stopping you. You've been bound to your seat. The space your in is dark, but once your eyes adjust your surroundings begin to take shape. You're seated at the end of a dinner table with chairs tucked neatly around and it's covered in an delicate lace cloth. A vase of white gardenias and some lit candles in crystal holders placed on either end sit in the middle. The darkness peels back more and you see the walls of creeping into focus. You make out an abundance of paintings and various things strewn about the walls. This is someone's dining room. Suddenly a door to your right swings open and a jolly looking plump woman toddles out of the adjacent room. She is wearing a black dress with white polka dots and an white frilly apron. She makes her way to the table and sets down a silver tray with matching tea set.

“Oh goodness, look who is finally awake?” she says cheerfully. You open your mouth to speak but your voice cracks and sends you into a mild coughing fit. The woman saunters over to your with the tea pot in hand and pours some in your cup. You instinctively go to reach for it but are thwarted. She quickly but carefully takes the cup and lifts it to your mouth. “Oh oh oh sweetheart its alright. Let me help you. There we are, isn't that better?” she says sweetly. Up close you see that she is wearing make up that is heavily caked on, highlighting the wrinkles and crows feet that decorated the corners of her face. Her mascara and lipstick were heavily applied as well, the red of her lipstick stained around her lips. But what you notice more than anything, is the smell. It is subtle but pungent and it seems to be emanating from the woman. You can't place it at first but it dawns on you; it smells of dead flowers.

You guzzle down the warm beverage. You feel your dry mouth brought back to life as the tea washes down and soothes your cough. “Where am I?,” you ask weakly. “Well,” She says placing the tea cup back onto its saucer. She floats back to where she set the tray and pours her cup. Then she pulls out the chair on your right and sits down. “You my dear are a visitor to our great little town. The greatest little town really,” She sips from her cup and continues “Welcome to Wellington Hills! This is my lovely little home.” She takes 2 small saucers from the tray and sets them in front of herself. Lifting the lid on one of the dishes, she reveals a small platter of finger sandwiches. She places 2 sandwiches on one of the plates and places it in front of you.

The numbness in your body is fading into a mild tingly sensation. You can now feel the ropes wrapped tightly around your legs and arms. As your mind is starting to clear, questions begin to swarm. You gather your thoughts and ask the first one that comes into focus.“How did I get here?” You sound drowsy and feel as much. The old plump woman acts as if you've said nothing and continues with her preparations and introductions. “Oh Yes, this town is indeed veeery special! It is simply the best! We have such a loving community here. The church is my favorite part but we do also have a bakery which I am the proud establisher of. We also have a diner off of Main street, a food market right next door, a service station which used to be owned by David Allen senior but was took over by David Allen Jr on account of that awful accident he had.” The woman moves from the finger sandwiches on to another taller platter. Lifting the lid, she reveals a tower of cakes and other sweets. She pulls out 2 more saucers and begins plating those as well.

You try again to get some answers. “How did I get here? And Why am I tied up!? You try to sound stern, but your words still slur. “Here,” she says filling your cup from the pot, “Let me give you some more tea.” She tries to get you to drink but your refuse. You turn your face away from the offer even thought you are desperately thirsty. The woman's pleasant expression is replaced with one of rejection. She slowly sets the cup back on its saucer, and turns facing her place setting on the table.

Your blood begins to pump fast and a lump develops in your throat. Your head is still swimming but you know well enough that this situation is bad. “Please,” you try not to let the panic seep into your voice.”Why am I tied up? What is going on? How did I get here? WHY am I here?” The woman's demeanor changes completely. You can almost see an aura of darkness emit from her. Her face twists into a fowl grimace. Fear pierces your gut like a knife. She slams her hands on the table and stands up abruptly almost knocking her chair to the floor and rocking everything on the table.

The woman stomps over to you, pulling a cloth from a pocket in the front of her apron. She drops it over your head and ties it tightly around your mouth. You try to resist but the yank and pull of her tightening the gag is painful. Your heart begins to pound in your chest. You hear the blood rushing through your ears, and your stomach drops. Your panic turns into full blown terror. You try to wriggle and squirm violently trying in desperation to remove your binds. Not even the chair budges from your efforts. While you thrash you try to scream through your gag. Your stifled screams don't seem to penetrate the windowless room. They are trapped in there with you and the woman.

“Now You cut that out, or your gonna make me really mad!” her voice is loud and sharp. You obey, not yet knowing what the woman is capable of. She relaxes bit, “Now. That's better.” She walks behind you. You hear her pull open a draw and then close it. She comes back with a large leather book. Its appears worn but not too badly, its pages an odd hue of brown. You anxiously eye the woman as she makes her way back to her spot at the table, cradling the book in her arms.

“Now, we still have so much time before the ceremony,”she says while moving her tea setting and sets the book down. “So I figured we could read some stories while I get everything ready! I loved to read to my children and grandchildren but they are all far too old for that and I do miss it terribly.” She opens the book causing the smell from its pages to waft in your direction. The smell is familiar. It too, smells of dead flowers. The woman thumbs through a few more pages and settles on one with a large brightly colored beetle printed (or drawn it was hard to tell from that distance) on it. She plunges her hand back into the front of her apron, this time producing a white eye glass case. She opens and pulls out a pair of thin wire frame glasses and places them carefully on her face. “Now then,” she says cheerfully, settling herself into her chair. “This is a cute little story that I like quite a bit.” A long thin grin stretched across the woman's face. Her bright red lips adding a twist of sinister that makes you bite down on your gag and swallow hard. The woman begins,”Now, this story is called The Boy and The Beetle”


PT 1

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The Boy & The Beetle

Honestly Coming Soon, I'm actually really proud of myself.

Welcome To Wellington Hills PT 2

Also Coming soon