Category Archives: fear

Monster XX

Monster XX
By: Mia L. Hazlett
2/22/15

I had no recollection of my trip, but I was back at the beginning of my journey. I looked at the familiar dungeon cell. Cleaning measures had been taken. Nothing extensive, but there was a scent of bleach rather than the stench of death.

Hope instantly popped into my head. I pounded on the concrete wall. Instead of the reciprocated response, my door opened. A woman’s form filled the doorway, but I didn’t recognize her. I assumed it was Hope, but I had only seen her emaciated and bloodied. I stood as she stepped inside the doorway. As we embraced, I knew it was her.

The door closed behind us. We slid down the wall with our hands entwined. We communicated with our silence. There is nothing we could say. Our shared captivity and torture was our irreversible bond. Our endurance in this underground hell was our secret.

She put her head on my shoulder and I wept. Since I had come here a year or years ago, there had been no endearing touching. I cried myself to sleep. When I awoke, we were both slumped on the floor. I tried to turn my head, but the painful ache hurt too much. Hope shifted and blinked her eyes open. In the dim light, I finally noticed the walls. They painted them white. The entire room was white. Floor. Ceiling. Walls. All white. There were no more stains of my existence.

I heard keys. The door opened. Maniacal stepped in. He sat down. Hope sat up. He leaned in. We leaned in.

“Two is better than one.”

We leaned back. He leaned back. He stood up. The door opened. I heard keys. The door locked.

Copyright © 2015 Mia L. Hazlett

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Monster XIX

Monster XIX
By: Mia L. Hazlett
11/30/14

The box fell apart around me. Blinded by the sudden bright light, I wasn’t able to tell who pushed me off the table, but I was familiar with the feeling of smashing against a floor. Before I could get to my knees, the wind was knocked out of me. There was a duet of laughter as my eyes focused on a blur of both Maniacal and the Doctor.

As the air refilled my lungs I caught sight of one of the boards from my coffin. It wasn’t so much the board as it was the nail sticking out of it. Footsteps neared me and I lunged towards the board. In one sweeping motion, I grabbed the board and swung it around and caught Footsteps in the forearm. The board stayed in his arm as he grabbed my foot. I turned my body and gripped the board and gave it a twist with all my might. He hollered and shot upright as blood poured from his open wound.

I grabbed the board and was quickly on my feet. Before Footsteps had time to recover, I rushed him with the board across his face. I did my best to pull and twist the board, so the impaled nail would do irreparable damage. His howl only encouraged me. Finally, the cries of pain were coming from him and not me.

He lost his balance and fell over the chair behind him. It wasn’t me, but the adrenaline within me, that had me ponce on his chest and beat his already bloodied face with the board. His fist caught me in my jaw, but I still fought him. I had a fistful of his hair and repeatedly slammed his head into the concrete floor. I wasn’t weak. I wasn’t losing. I was winning.

I came out of my daze and there was applause. I sat on Footsteps’ chest and he was motionless. At his head stood Maniacal. He continued to clap his hands. My hands wore the blood of my victim. I tried to stand, but toppled backwards and landed on my ass. The Doctor came over and did that thing with his two fingers on Footsteps’ neck to see if he was alive. He shook his head no, and left the room.

Maniacal came towards me and knelt inches away. “Well done. You’re one of us now.”

I couldn’t be one of them. I couldn’t be. I was a survivalist, not a heartless killer. It was my life or his. But as I sat watching Footsteps’ bloodied body, all a result of my rage, I thought to myself, I am a heartless killer.

Copyright © 2014 Mia L. Hazlett

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Monster XVIII

Monster XVIII
By: Mia L. Hazlett
11/11/14

I wondered what the sound was. Although I had never seen a waterfall, if asked to describe what I was hearing, I would answer, a waterfall. And then, the sound faded. Somehow with the absence of sound, my box brightened. I heard a machine of some sort. Maybe a drill. Maybe my death. But, whatever it was, it brought light.

With silence – no waterfall, no drill, no death – I looked to my right. I was still confined to my wooden space with my three dead survivalists. When I looked through the 3-inch drilled hole, I realized I was not buried. I was in the room where we made Cake Leftovers. I was on top of the same table. I don’t know if water has a smell, but it smelled wet. This entire time I thought they had buried me out in the wilderness, never to be found again. Instead, I was in a box and left to my own psychological torture.

Not knowing where I was, was better than knowing who I was with. I guess being buried in the woods, I would have starved to death. I completely assumed – no eating, no drinking –would lead to my death. Maybe all their hearts had to offer was a quick painful death of my now dead foes. I should have become cake leftovers. Instead, I saw three bodies getting closer. They stood in front of the hole blocking the light.

I waited. There was an eye. I stared at revenge. The eye receded, replaced by the tip of a knife.

“My turn,” I heard Footsteps say. No death for me. Just a terrifying existence.

Copyright © 2014 Mia L. Hazlett

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Angie

Angie
By Mia L. Hazlett
11/3/2014

This sucks. My life is over at fourteen. I’m gonna die. I’m so alone. I can’t talk to anyone. I lie on my bed holding my cell praying for him to call. He promised he would call. A quick vibration and “BFF” pops up on my iPhone along with a picture of Shayna.

“Girl,” I say, “He hasn’t called me. He came up to my locker after 4th and he said he was gonna call me after ball. I dun text him like ten damn times. Can’t nobody tell nobody they don’t have no time to text back. “

“Watchu doin’ now? Let’s roll down to his practice,” Shayna puts an idea in my head.

“I just gotta wait for my parents to get here, ‘cause I’m watchin’ Jordy. He gonna be outta practice by the time they get home,” I get the idea out of my head to roll up on him at his basketball practice.

“Well if he ain’t called by the time they get home, we gonna go knockin’ on his front door. He ain’t gettin’ outta this girl. If he thinks he is, the brotha dun lost his damn mind. He’s gotta know he can’t avoid us,” Shayna has always had my back.

“Girl what am I going to do?” I got my boyfriend out of my head and now it is just BFF to BFF.

“Whatever you do, don’t tell your parents. First you gotta see what Chris is gonna say, because you know your Daddy is gonna flip,” Shayna reminds me what else I am scared of.

“What if they kick me out? I mean they don’t even know I have a boyfriend. Shayna I’m so scared.” My voice cracks and the tears follow.

“Girl don’t cry. It’s gonna be okay. They ain’t gonna kick you out. And even if they do, you can come over here. You know my mother would never let you be on the streets.”

Somehow, every time Shayna tells me not to cry, I cry harder. The downstairs door opens. My mother is home. Maybe there is time to catch him at practice.

“Girl I have to go set the table for dinner. My mom just got home.”

I hang up with Shayna and go to the bathroom to wash my face. If I don’t wash my face and get my puffy eyes to go away, I will end up telling my mother. The one thing I’ve always been able to do is talk to my mom. If my mother asks me anything, I’ll lose it and tell her. She can’t know yet.

I throw the cold water on my face and I’m not sure if it is the water on my face or me bending over, but whatever happened, I now stand over the toilet throwing up. Back to the sink. Too late. My mother is behind me rubbing my back as I rinse my mouth out.

I turn and face my mother, “What’s going on babygirl?” she asks.

“Mummee, I’m pregnant,” I crumble into tears in my mother’s arms.

She holds me tight to her chest and whispers into my ear, “I know baby. I already know.”

Copyright © 2014 Mia L. Hazlett

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Filed under daughters, family, fear, friends, friendship, love, motherhood, parents, pregnancy

Monster XVII

Monster XVII
By: Mia L. Hazlett
10/11/14

I hoped the three rats were the only ones. My life or theirs. After squishing one between my foot and the bottom of this miserable coffin, I squeezed two to death in my hands. I wasn’t sure if I was becoming a heartless killer or if the instinct of survival prevailed. Either way, I was alive and they were dead. I would never be Footsteps, so I convinced myself it was survival.

Obviously, I had failed at my attempted murder. Or had I? Maybe Footsteps was dead and Maniacal had tracked me with the Doctor. It didn’t matter. I was stuck underground with dead rats. I didn’t remember what happened from the car to a rat biting my foot. I knew I had a scalpel and tried to cut Footstep’s neck. Maybe I was becoming a heartless killer. Slicing a person’s neck had to fall somewhere in the heartless category. But he was my kidnapper, so I was going to keep myself in the survivalist category.

The real question, how long had I been here? Eventually I would run out of oxygen. Had they put me through all of this just to bury me alive with rats? Months, maybe a year of torture, just to become cake leftovers? Knowing how long I had been here didn’t matter, I didn’t feel suffocated. My breathing came easy. That was more worrisome. Maybe they were keeping me alive to face the consequences. I could handle myself with the rats. They were just looking to survive like me. Survivalist against survivalist. But if they were keeping me alive to go against Footsteps, if he was still alive, that was much different. It wasn’t about heartless killer against survivalist. It was about a heartless killer seeking revenge. I should have let the rats eat me alive. No one survived revenge.

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Monster XVI

Monster XVI
By: Mia L. Hazlett
9/25/14

I’ve never hurt someone physically. I’ve physically hurt. I’ve definitely emotionally hurt, and maybe even reciprocated. But intentionally inflicting pain on someone was not my thing. Somehow it was now my thing. Footsteps made it my thing.

To Footsteps, this was like making a cake. Preheat oven. Prepare table. Get mixing bowls, measuring cups and spoons, and ingredients. Gag, check. Restraints, check. Victim, check. In one bowl mix half the ingredients, in the other, mix the remainder. Situate victim just right on table, gag, and apply restraints. Blend ingredients in large bowl and stir for 3-5 minutes. Remove blind fold and tape open victim’s eyes. Allow mix to sit 2-3 minutes. Apply 3-5 bleach drops to each eye and allow to sit for 2-3 minutes. Pour mix into pan and place in oven for 35-40 minutes or until cake is done. Apply scalpel slices to victim’s naked body and individually duct tape 35-40 rats over slices. When cake is done, allow to cool before eating. When the rats are done, your victim should be dead.

I prayed for him to die of fear. He didn’t. I prayed for him to stop watching me. His eyes were taped open. I prayed to go deaf. I heard each muffled scream through his gag. I prayed for the torture to end, the rats ate him alive. I prayed for my own death. I realized, God had put my prayers on mute.

I stood outside and Footsteps met me with a huge duffel bag. We were in an unlit parking lot of some abandoned building. He weighted the duffel bag evenly over my shoulders. I realized I was carrying our cake, the leftovers anyways. The bag outweighed me, but I managed to keep up with Footsteps as I followed him through the dark. I heaved the bag into the trunk of the car on top of some shovels.

I began to cry in the back of the car. Footsteps started the car and chuckled at my tears. He turned the car around and I lunged forward, grabbed his forehead back, and sliced across his neck with the scalpel I had hidden up my sleeve. The car accelerated and slammed into the building.

When I opened my eyes, I was in complete darkness. I wasn’t in restraints, but my body was constricted. I tasted dirt and felt wood all around me. I heard a familiar squeaking and then felt a sharp pain on my foot. Place in coffin and bury with rats for 3-4 days or until girl dies. I was not going to be cake leftovers.

Copyright ©2014 Mia L. Hazlett

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Taken X

Taken X
By: Mia L. Hazlett
9/24/14

Jessie.  I had my Jessie back.  Mark wasn’t cheating on me, he was trying to get our Jessie back.  Whoever was in the house must have tried to hurt him and that’s why he ran.  When I ran to the back of the little cottage, I saw the door slowly creep open. I thought I had been found, but as my eyes focused, it was my baby.  My little Jessie stumbled out the back and into my arms. We ducked low as I heard the person inside frantically hunt for her.

The engine of the van turned over and the headlights were like instant sun in this shadowless wilderness.  I waited for it to disappear before I turned my tiny flashlight back on.  I didn’t know how far the batteries would take us, but I needed to get to a place where I could get some bars on my cell phone.  I had to call Mark and tell him I had Jessie.  He would probably be angry, because that would reveal I followed him.  His arrogance would hate the fact that I rescued her and he left running.

I stumbled through the woods and thought I heard the sounds of water.  It was faint, but unmistakable.  Jessie was barely walking so I lifted her into my arms.  I wanted to get us as far away from that house as I could.  The sound of the water was more audible and that was going to be my guide.  My flashlight shut off.

Behind us I heard cars, but the water was closer.  What was that? A crash? I wasn’t sure.  I kept moving towards the water.  Jessie was too heavy to continue to carry.  I found a tree and sat against the base of its trunk.  It wasn’t until I stopped moving that I realized how cold it was.  My little Jessie was cold too.

As I sat, I formulated a plan to go back to the house.  Whoever left, would never come back, knowing Mark found his hiding place.  We could at least spend the night and then in the morning, I would at least be able to travel in daylight. But most of all, we wouldn’t freeze in these woods.

The outline of the house came into my view.  Just beyond the house there appeared to be headlights approaching.  I was wrong.  The person was returning to get my Jessie.  I ran and hid us deep into the trees and stopped moving when I heard the engine shut off.  The headlights remained on and I heard deep voices.  I wasn’t sure how many voices, but there was definitely more than one.  And I knew one of them.  It was Mark.  He must have run to go get help.  He had come back to bring our Jessie home.

I ran out of the woods the best I could holding Jessie tight to my chest.  I screamed his name as I came into the clearing behind the tiny house.  We were safe.  Mark would take me and my baby home.  A figure stood in the headlights and I ran towards it.  They were blinding so I wasn’t sure who I was running towards, until he opened his arms for us.  I ran into my husband’s arms.  We were safe.

Copyright © 2014 Mia L. Hazlett

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Filed under children, daughters, fear, fiction, kidnapping, Suspense, Taken