Horsehead
I awoke in a deep sweat again. The noise always wakes me up. That damn bell…Can’t believe it’s supper already. A guard walked up to my door and unlocked it. “Supper time, ya crazy bastard. It’s your favorite.”
I gulped. From his tone I could tell that it must be those awful potatoes with roast beef again. Normally thats a meal I would kill for, but not in here, in here it tastes like sandpaper and dirt. The cook isn’t very good. The guard walked into my cell, grabbed the back of my straitjacket and pushed me down the hall, I guess I’d just have to endure it, after all, thats not the worst of my worries. If you haven’t guessed by now, I suppose your intellect is a little lacking. I now spend my days within an asylum. Although, I’m here under false circumstances you see, I didn’t kill my family. It was Horsehead. Thats the nickname I gave him. I got my food, and sat with my usual crowd. The guard took off all our ‘jackets. I was the first to speak, as usual. “Have you guys heard the noises in the night?”
“The insane babbling of all the patients? Yeah, I’m sure we’ve all heard it. Some of us even contribute to it, right, Eric?” That was Gerald. He’s here for the rape and murder of ten prostitutes. Pleaded insanity during the trial. Sick bastard.
I tried to ignore him as he elbowed Eric in the side, causing the man to yelp. I stabbed a piece of roast beef with my fork, and shoved it into my mouth. I winced; such an awful taste. “No, not that, the other noises, the ones made by…It.” I think I heard Gerald swear under his breath, he knew where this was going. “I heard It again, I swear, down the hall, it’s breathing was…”
Gerald slammed a fist on the table. “Cut the shit, man! You’re just crazy like every other asshole in this joint, just look around you, look at where you are!” I was ready to respond with a verbal insult, but I decided against it. There was no point, he could floor me easily, and plus, deep down I wondered if he was right. I’ve been here awhile, what if I really am crazy? No, don’t think like that, Horsehead is real, he took my family, I know he did. I began to listen to the murmurs around me, the conversations of broken minds, but it wasn’t long before Gerald piped up again. “But hey, really, if believing in your little make-believe-monster helps you sleep at night…” I looked at him with fear in my eyes, and spoke with rage in my voice. “It doesn’t…I rarely sleep.” Gerald merely laughed. What an ass. I don’t blame him for not believing me, but he doesn’t have to make light of the situation.
”Now shut up and eat your food. And stop telling stories, you might frighten the other children.”
“Stop being such an asshole, It was real, damnit.” A few of the others slid away, they could feel this coming, and they hated these arguments. God that sounds so bad, even crazy people thought we were nuts. Hell, once me and Gerald almost killed each other, but a bit of solitary cofinement fixed that for both of us.
‘You got proof? Maybe he left behind a hoof or something!” Gerald burst into laughter. He started nudging the guy next to him who let out a fake chuckle. “Without proof, you’re just as guilty as me.” He pushed away from the table and walked next to a guard. “Bring me to my room, the others are making fun of the voices in my head.” He made a fake pouting face. The guard grunted and put Gerald’s ‘jacket back on. “See you tommorow, psycho!” He waved at me as the guard shoved him through the door, and that was that. I glared, but continued eating soon after, and eventually engaged in casual conversation with the others. Atleast, as casual as you can get in here. Lights out. My least favourite part of living here. The darkness is bad enough, but the screams and laughter of insane people adds this surreal quality that usually stops me from sleeping. But today, today is unusually quiet, as if they know something is wrong. I manage to close my eyes, and drift away into the world of dreams.
I sit at the picnic table with my wife and child. It is Summer, and we are happy. It was a beautiful day, the sun was shining, the flowers were in full bloom, the forest was lively with noise. It was perfect. I get up to check the barbecue, the hamburgers and hot dogs smelt like they were almost ready, My son shouts to his mother, calling her to play. She laughs and rises from her spot. The two of them begin to pass a ball back and forth near the edge of the forest. It was then that I realized the forest had gone dead silent, although at the time I paid no attention. It was a few minutes more before I heard my wife’s bloodcurdling scream. She screamed about how something took our child into the forest. I began to run towards the forest as she entered, I yelled to her to stop, but to no avail. I feel branches swatting at my face as I charge through the forest, which now seems unusually dark. I hear my wife scream again. I run as fast as my legs can take me and arrive to see a horrific being tearing my wife’s flesh from her body. Horsehead. It turns to me after I yell in anguish. It moves quickly towards me, and I blackout.
I jolt out of my sleep, my breathing heavy, my body drenched in sweat. Suddenly, it hits me, the silence was nearly deafening. And then the noise begins. The grating of metal on metal. The sound is high pitched, like fingernails on a chalkboard, but far worse. The sound gets closer with every second. I cower under my thin blanket, hoping for some sort of shelter from whatever horror lurks outside, but it doesn’t work. I pinch my arm, hoping to wake from a nightmare. It doesn’t work. The sound is in my hallway now. The echos of the noise are near unbearable. I can hear others waking up, complaining, some screaming, others panicking. I stand up, and inch closer to my door. I peek through the glass window at the top of my door, nothing, total darkness. Then, a single light, the one directly between me and Rodger’s cell, flickers to life. The grating noise stops. I hear a heavy breathing noise, like that of a wild beast. Something stepped into the light, its back turned to me, although, it was moving FAST, too fast for me to really catch a glimpse of it, but I know what it was. I could hear the religious man in the cell next to me praying. He could see it too, I knew I wasn’t crazy. The beast lifts its hand, and smashes Rodger’s door open. His screams of terror and pleas for help are drowned out by a sickening gurgling noise from the beast. It enters his room, the light flickers off and the screams stop. I can hear the tearing of flesh, the splatter of blood hitting walls, the sound of bones snapping and the horrible noises the thing made. I stood waiting at my door for a minute before the beast re-emerged. The light flickered back on, and I could see it in its full glory. I dare not breathe as I examined its horrible visage. It was something truly out of a nightmare; haunting, impossible and by far, the scariest thing I have ever seen in my life. My eyes tried to concieve what I was looking at at, and I was in disbelief, nothing like THIS should ever exist, but I’ll try to relay what my eyes witnessed.
It stood, nearly 10 feet in height, with dark reddish-brown skin. And that was the most normal thing about it. Upon its neck, was the skull of a horse that had a mane of gnarled, thin black hair that hung from the base. From there, I could see its chest heaving, in and out, with each breath, as its rib cage pressed up against the skin. The thing looked malnourished. But, then everything got even worse. On its back, was a large, tumorous hump, from which sprouted four twisted limbs. The first limb ended in a a clawed hand; the second, a three fingered hand, one of which ended in a blade the size of a butcher knife; while the other two were twisted scythes that jutted out at an almost broken angle. Meanwhile, its actual arms were no better. One ended in three fingers, much like one of the “tumour arms”, but each finger ended in sharp blades, and it carried Rodger’s head. I gagged. The other, was bent completely backwards, and ended in a blade that stretched about 10 feet back, and was dragged along the ground, which explained the grating noise when the beast walked. And below that, below the thin waist, was the legs. Four legs, one sticking out from each side of the body. They were incredibly thin, like spider legs, and they stretched for atleast four feet, before dropping at an almost ninety degree angle. And at the bottom of each one was, I kid you not, (Although by this point, you expect almost anything I bet) was essentially, what looked like, human hands. To say I was terrified by this creature was SUCH an understatement. Suddenly, I felt a warm sensation running down my leg, and I swore, partially crying. And then it turned, and it saw me. I stared right at its face. Its eyes seemed to roll in its head, and they were looking straight at me. Souless eyes. I began to sob uncontrollably. It seemed almost as if it recognized me, from that night. It stared for a few moments before letting out a prolonged growl that sounded something like loud machinery mixed with a wheezing whisper. It raised its arm, and pointed at me before walking down the hall, dragging its mighty arm behind it. And the last thing I saw before fainting, was Rodger’s and, what looked like, Gerald’s flayed skin wrapped around the beasts arm, dragging behind it. I heard gunfire, and a few guards shouting orders. I heard inmates screaming. I heard the beast roar. And then I heard nothing. When I awoke, there was the ringing of sirens and the shouting of officers everywhere, and the asylum was evacuated. Not to mention my head hurt like hell, must’ve fell onto the floor. Before I had time to adjust, all of us were placed under police custody. That makes me feel a little safer, but I know that whatever officer gets stuck with me won’t make it. I’ve developed this nasty black mark on my chest, similiar to what Rodger had before he died and I know what it means. Horsehead will be back, and it’ll finish what it started. Credit To: Sylizar Copyright Statement: Unless explicitly stated, all stories published on Creepypasta.com are the property of (and under copyright to) their respective authors, and may not be narrated or performed under any circumstance.