Behind Closed Doors 1/4 - Gundam Wing
Sep. 29th, 2004 11:38 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
yellowhordeDisclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing and I make no money from this or
any other story I write.
Pairing: None
Category: Horror/AU (alternate universe)
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Moments of scariness.
Title: Behind Closed Doors
Author: yellowhorde
Status: Finished
Notes: This was was my first (and only) attempt at writing horror.
Summary: A seven-year-old Duo Maxwell is afraid of the monsters
under his bed and in the closet - with good reason!
CHAPTER ONE
Duo Maxwell lay on his stomach on his bed, buried under a thick
comforter, reading a battered paperback copy of "Peter Pan". The
seven-year-old boy, an avid reader, could always be found with his
nose buried in one book or another. He enjoyed many different types
of stories. His mother had often referred to him as an equal
opportunity reader. And he was. The brown haired youth had a keen and
open mind when it came to books.
The reed-thin youngster loved all types of stories, even the ones
that were assigned to him in Literature class. Fancy that! But what
he loved more than anything - more than Westerns, with stirring tales
of heroic sheriffs and dastardly cattle rustlers, more than science
fiction, with it's promise of distant futures, some good, some not so
good - was *fantasy*.
He loved fantasy above and beyond all other genres. Tales of bizarre
planets, fairy princesses, heroic knights in shining armor, dragons,
and magicians! In fantasy, anything could and often did happen. So
different than real life, with all it's bitter disappointments...
Reading helped the youth escape from the cruel reality of the world,
at least temporarily.
(Give me a good book over real life any day.)
Duo shivered slightly and pulled the comforter up more snuggly about
his shoulders, cutting out the sneaky draft that had found it's way
into his warm haven. He really liked his current foster home, really
he did... It was much better than the one he had been in before,
but... He just wished it wasn't so very cold in his bedroom. Giving a
small shrug of the shoulders, the young boy sighed.
(I guess it really can't be helped.) he thought.
This room was, after all, one of the northern most rooms in the
house. And it was in the middle of winter. A very cold winter. It
didn't help matters any that the only window faced north. No golden
warm rays of sun ever found their way into the small, neatly
maintained room. That was a fact!
Suddenly, the temperature in the room felt like it dropped twenty
degrees. Dread pooled in the young boy's belly like a serpent coiled
to strike. He cupped his hands over his nose and mouth, as if to warm
them. His breath formed icy vapors in the still air. His heart
hammered in his throat and his breathing quickened until he was all
but panting.
The boy's whispered in terror as his violet eyes widened in
fright. "Oh, go away... please go away..."
Duo was not fully sure of who, or *what* he may have been speaking
to, and he really didn't care at this particular moment in time. All
he needed to know was that there was, without a doubt, something
lurking in his room with him. And not for the first time, either. No,
the same thing had happened on two other occasions. Something cold,
unfeeling...dangerous.
The small child sucked his breath in harshly as he felt, or thought
he felt, something brush against the bottom of one of his feet.
Realization dawned in a hurry that he had let them trail over the
edge of the bed while he had been reading. That was bad, very bad! He
scrambled to his knees and pressed his back against the head board.
Small helpless whimpers escaped from his tightly clenched throat.
Impossibly wide eyes scanned the room continuously. Back and forth,
back and forth.
There was nothing there! Oh why, wasn't there anything there?! Any
adult would have reasoned that he should have been relieved at that
bit of knowledge, but he wasn't. Not one little bit. The child knew
better.
(It's just hiding.) The boy's mind screamed. Now where in the world
would IT be hiding? Why under the bed, of course. Naturally! All
really scary creatures hid under the bed. Or in the closet. Any two-
year-old could tell you that.
Rational thought tried to intervene. (Baby, you baby! This is getting
ridiculous. There is no scary monster hiding under your bed. If you
don't believe that, why don't you just go down and take a look, you
chicken!)
Duo shook his head in mute horror, his long chestnut brown bangs
sticking softly against his sweaty brow.
"No way, man!" he whispered back to his own mind, his voice high and
trembling. "No way am I going to look under the bed! What? Are you
*joking*!"
He clenched his eyes closed and choose to ignore rational thought.
Rational thinking would get him killed quicker than snot.
He could just see it now... Carefully, oh so carefully, he would
creep to the edge of the bed, he would pull up the covers, and slowly
stick his head down for a quick look see. Yeah... His long braid
would fall down and dangle, just barely brushing the thick shag rug.
He would come face to gross face with some unimaginably AWFUL creepy
crawly thingy with blood red eyes and long, slobbering fangs. That
sight alone would probably blast his young mind to bits mere seconds
before the nameless horror would latch on to that oh-so-tempting
braid and yank him, kicking and screaming uselessly under the bed
where all the little dust bunnies stored all the socks and buttons
they stole. It would drag him under the bed to...to...to...
(To eat you!)
A horrible image popped, all Technicolored and as real as life and
twice as ugly, into his seven-year-old mind and Duo realized with a
jolt of panic that the thought, that horrible picture had not been of
his own creation! No, he could never have conjured up such vivid
horrors. Not in a million years!
Something black and slimy (he imagined) must have somehow managed to
project that delightful image into his numbed brain and it hadn't
been his thought. No sirree BOB!
Small, cold hands pressed over his ears. They were, fortunately, his
own. A tiny, helpless moan of pure terror rushed past his trembling
lips. Here's a lovely thought for you, my boy. Maybe it wasn't under
the bed. Let's just suppose for one moment, ladies and germs, that
the dreaded boogieman wasn't under the bed at all. What if it was
in...
His breath stilled ominously in his chest as Duo felt his eyes being
drawn, pulled, almost against his will, towards...the closet.
(Why don't you just go and check it out?)
Rational thought was stubborn. Very persistent. You had to give it
some credit, it- never- gave- up!
Duo shook his head once, very slowly. No way. No way! What if he was
wrong? OH, WHAT IF HE WAS WRONG AND IT WAS UNDER THE BED?! He'd be
dead meat for sure!
How long would that small, helplessly afraid boy have crouched,
cowering on his bed? The world would never know for at that exact
moment, there came a sharp knocking against the door to his bedroom.
This startled a shrill, breathy shriek out of the braided boy. The
door swung open to reveal... his foster mother, Roseanne.
Her large blue eyes were wide with surprise. She absently swiped a
stray lock of blond hair out of her face that has somehow managed to
escape from her ponytail . It stayed were it was for a moment, then
decided it liked where it had been before better and fell back into
it's previous position. This time she left it alone.
She then absently ran her hands over the white frilly apron she wore
over a forest green turtleneck. The apron was covered with tiny
little frogs, every one of the cute buggers holding up a sign
demanding that each one was, in fact, a royal prince in disguise. A
kiss was all it would take to set them free. Yeah, right.
"Are you okay, Duo? I thought I just heard you scream."
She entered his room, crossed over towards his twin sized bed, and
plopped down on the mattress. She smoothed her red skirt under her
legs as she did so. Even gripped in his terror, Duo realized that,
even though it was winter and freezing cold, he had never once seen
his foster mother wearing a pair of slacks or even jeans, not once in
four months.
The child managed to find his voice. Oh, goody! He even sounded
almost normal. Things were indeed looking up! He looked into those
beautiful, blue eyes and smoothly lied through his teeth.
"I was just reading a scary story, Roseanne. I must have let my
imagination run away with me, that's all."
Duo managed a small nervous chuckle. His foster mother did not appear
to be convinced by his little performance.
Roseanne glanced over at the book opened face down on the rumpled
pillow. It was the copy of "Peter Pan" she had gotten for the little
book worm from Mary's Book Exchange last week. It was one of the
least scary books she could imagine. She turned her eyes back towards
the boy huddled beside her. His bangs were plastered to his forehead
with sweat and he looked a little too pale for her liking. But she
wasn't going to pry. He would open up to her if and when he felt he
wanted or needed to.
"Are you sure?" She couldn't help the concerned tone that had crept
into her voice. She was a mother, after all. And this child, whom she
had grown quite fond of in the last few months, was obviously scared
stiff.
(Don't push him, remember. The counselor said he would open up to you
eventually. Just give him some time and space.)
When the little boy nodded again, she stood up with a sigh. "Well,
you shouldn't read such scary stories, Duo. They'll rot your brain,
you know. Probably even give you nightmares."
The tall, slender woman moved off towards the door and called back
over her shoulder. "Why don't you come down and help me set the table
for dinner, hmm?"
Duo hopped down from the bed and quickly followed the woman out of
the door. Anything to get out of that room! He shot a glance back
towards the closet. Nervously he nibbled on his lower lip. Could he
have been mistaken? Had he indeed allowed his vivid imagination to
carry him away as he had explained?
Maybe. But he didn't believe it to be so. He could not have imagined
that sense of overpowering fear that had clutched cold fingers about
his heart. No, it had not all been in his mind.
*****
Roseanne's husband, Jeff, had joined them for dinner for a change.
Usually he worked the second shift at a factory called AirLite
Plastics from 3 p.m to 11 p.m. Tonight had been his day off.
Jeff was a kind man with wavy brown hair, laughing brown eyes and a
preference for colorful polo shirts. He was the nicest man Duo had
ever meet, besides his deceased father. He would ask about the boy's
day and really listen to what Duo had to say. That was pretty rare in
an adult as far as the shy child was concerned. Many would ask
questions but never really pay attention to what he had to say in
response. It was frustrating.
After dinner, Jeff went to bed to catch up on his sleep.
(Can you really catch up on lost sleep?) Duo wondered. It was a nice
thought, but it didn't seem likely. Over the past few weeks, the boy
had lost a lot of sleep, mainly from nightmares and such. He had
never been able to catch up with the sleep he had lost, not really.
It just played havoc with his internal clock. Maybe grownups had a
knack for it...
Duo was finishing putting away the last of the clean dishes when,
Alexis, Roseanne's baby, began to cry fussily from her crib. Someone
must sure be hungry judging from the tone and volume of the insistent
cries. Roseanne sighed. She would never manage to get everything
done. There were only so many hours in a day and she had only two
arms. She glanced over at Duo, a glimmer of an idea forming rapidly
in her mind.
(Maybe he wouldn't mind helping out a little. I could give him a bit
of allowance for doing chores. Sounds like a plan!)
Roseanne dried her soapy hands off on her apron. "Hey, Duo? Could you
do me a small favor?"
The small boy turned and looked calmly at his foster mother. His
amethyst eyes questioned silently. He seemed much calmer than he had
been right before dinner. That was good. He had almost scared her.
"Could you please take the load of towels out of the dryer and fold
them up? I would really appreciate it. I would do it myself, but I've
got to feed Alexis."
The boy's mind froze solid. The laundry room? Oh, no! That's the
second scariest room in the whole house! Duo's small mind was
screaming and shouting to JUST SAY NO! No way, José! You can count me
out!
But without even a seconds pause he replied, "Sure, Roseanne, no
problem-o!"
He mentally kicked himself for a darned fool. (You moron! Do you have
a death wish?)
The braided boy found himself standing on top of the flight of steps.
His heart was rabitting in his scrawny chest and his palms were
slicked with sweat.
(You are not going to go down there are you? Is there any way I can
talk you out of this? Please?)
Duo did his best to ignore his babbling mind. He wanted to help out
Roseanne. It made him feel like a contributing member of the
well, ...family. The two grown-ups had been nothing but kind to him.
It was the least he could do.
Taking a deep gulp of air, Duo started down the steps.
TO BE CONTINUED...
CHAPTER TWO
any other story I write.
Pairing: None
Category: Horror/AU (alternate universe)
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Moments of scariness.
Title: Behind Closed Doors
Author: yellowhorde
Status: Finished
Notes: This was was my first (and only) attempt at writing horror.
Summary: A seven-year-old Duo Maxwell is afraid of the monsters
under his bed and in the closet - with good reason!
CHAPTER ONE
Duo Maxwell lay on his stomach on his bed, buried under a thick
comforter, reading a battered paperback copy of "Peter Pan". The
seven-year-old boy, an avid reader, could always be found with his
nose buried in one book or another. He enjoyed many different types
of stories. His mother had often referred to him as an equal
opportunity reader. And he was. The brown haired youth had a keen and
open mind when it came to books.
The reed-thin youngster loved all types of stories, even the ones
that were assigned to him in Literature class. Fancy that! But what
he loved more than anything - more than Westerns, with stirring tales
of heroic sheriffs and dastardly cattle rustlers, more than science
fiction, with it's promise of distant futures, some good, some not so
good - was *fantasy*.
He loved fantasy above and beyond all other genres. Tales of bizarre
planets, fairy princesses, heroic knights in shining armor, dragons,
and magicians! In fantasy, anything could and often did happen. So
different than real life, with all it's bitter disappointments...
Reading helped the youth escape from the cruel reality of the world,
at least temporarily.
(Give me a good book over real life any day.)
Duo shivered slightly and pulled the comforter up more snuggly about
his shoulders, cutting out the sneaky draft that had found it's way
into his warm haven. He really liked his current foster home, really
he did... It was much better than the one he had been in before,
but... He just wished it wasn't so very cold in his bedroom. Giving a
small shrug of the shoulders, the young boy sighed.
(I guess it really can't be helped.) he thought.
This room was, after all, one of the northern most rooms in the
house. And it was in the middle of winter. A very cold winter. It
didn't help matters any that the only window faced north. No golden
warm rays of sun ever found their way into the small, neatly
maintained room. That was a fact!
Suddenly, the temperature in the room felt like it dropped twenty
degrees. Dread pooled in the young boy's belly like a serpent coiled
to strike. He cupped his hands over his nose and mouth, as if to warm
them. His breath formed icy vapors in the still air. His heart
hammered in his throat and his breathing quickened until he was all
but panting.
The boy's whispered in terror as his violet eyes widened in
fright. "Oh, go away... please go away..."
Duo was not fully sure of who, or *what* he may have been speaking
to, and he really didn't care at this particular moment in time. All
he needed to know was that there was, without a doubt, something
lurking in his room with him. And not for the first time, either. No,
the same thing had happened on two other occasions. Something cold,
unfeeling...dangerous.
The small child sucked his breath in harshly as he felt, or thought
he felt, something brush against the bottom of one of his feet.
Realization dawned in a hurry that he had let them trail over the
edge of the bed while he had been reading. That was bad, very bad! He
scrambled to his knees and pressed his back against the head board.
Small helpless whimpers escaped from his tightly clenched throat.
Impossibly wide eyes scanned the room continuously. Back and forth,
back and forth.
There was nothing there! Oh why, wasn't there anything there?! Any
adult would have reasoned that he should have been relieved at that
bit of knowledge, but he wasn't. Not one little bit. The child knew
better.
(It's just hiding.) The boy's mind screamed. Now where in the world
would IT be hiding? Why under the bed, of course. Naturally! All
really scary creatures hid under the bed. Or in the closet. Any two-
year-old could tell you that.
Rational thought tried to intervene. (Baby, you baby! This is getting
ridiculous. There is no scary monster hiding under your bed. If you
don't believe that, why don't you just go down and take a look, you
chicken!)
Duo shook his head in mute horror, his long chestnut brown bangs
sticking softly against his sweaty brow.
"No way, man!" he whispered back to his own mind, his voice high and
trembling. "No way am I going to look under the bed! What? Are you
*joking*!"
He clenched his eyes closed and choose to ignore rational thought.
Rational thinking would get him killed quicker than snot.
He could just see it now... Carefully, oh so carefully, he would
creep to the edge of the bed, he would pull up the covers, and slowly
stick his head down for a quick look see. Yeah... His long braid
would fall down and dangle, just barely brushing the thick shag rug.
He would come face to gross face with some unimaginably AWFUL creepy
crawly thingy with blood red eyes and long, slobbering fangs. That
sight alone would probably blast his young mind to bits mere seconds
before the nameless horror would latch on to that oh-so-tempting
braid and yank him, kicking and screaming uselessly under the bed
where all the little dust bunnies stored all the socks and buttons
they stole. It would drag him under the bed to...to...to...
(To eat you!)
A horrible image popped, all Technicolored and as real as life and
twice as ugly, into his seven-year-old mind and Duo realized with a
jolt of panic that the thought, that horrible picture had not been of
his own creation! No, he could never have conjured up such vivid
horrors. Not in a million years!
Something black and slimy (he imagined) must have somehow managed to
project that delightful image into his numbed brain and it hadn't
been his thought. No sirree BOB!
Small, cold hands pressed over his ears. They were, fortunately, his
own. A tiny, helpless moan of pure terror rushed past his trembling
lips. Here's a lovely thought for you, my boy. Maybe it wasn't under
the bed. Let's just suppose for one moment, ladies and germs, that
the dreaded boogieman wasn't under the bed at all. What if it was
in...
His breath stilled ominously in his chest as Duo felt his eyes being
drawn, pulled, almost against his will, towards...the closet.
(Why don't you just go and check it out?)
Rational thought was stubborn. Very persistent. You had to give it
some credit, it- never- gave- up!
Duo shook his head once, very slowly. No way. No way! What if he was
wrong? OH, WHAT IF HE WAS WRONG AND IT WAS UNDER THE BED?! He'd be
dead meat for sure!
How long would that small, helplessly afraid boy have crouched,
cowering on his bed? The world would never know for at that exact
moment, there came a sharp knocking against the door to his bedroom.
This startled a shrill, breathy shriek out of the braided boy. The
door swung open to reveal... his foster mother, Roseanne.
Her large blue eyes were wide with surprise. She absently swiped a
stray lock of blond hair out of her face that has somehow managed to
escape from her ponytail . It stayed were it was for a moment, then
decided it liked where it had been before better and fell back into
it's previous position. This time she left it alone.
She then absently ran her hands over the white frilly apron she wore
over a forest green turtleneck. The apron was covered with tiny
little frogs, every one of the cute buggers holding up a sign
demanding that each one was, in fact, a royal prince in disguise. A
kiss was all it would take to set them free. Yeah, right.
"Are you okay, Duo? I thought I just heard you scream."
She entered his room, crossed over towards his twin sized bed, and
plopped down on the mattress. She smoothed her red skirt under her
legs as she did so. Even gripped in his terror, Duo realized that,
even though it was winter and freezing cold, he had never once seen
his foster mother wearing a pair of slacks or even jeans, not once in
four months.
The child managed to find his voice. Oh, goody! He even sounded
almost normal. Things were indeed looking up! He looked into those
beautiful, blue eyes and smoothly lied through his teeth.
"I was just reading a scary story, Roseanne. I must have let my
imagination run away with me, that's all."
Duo managed a small nervous chuckle. His foster mother did not appear
to be convinced by his little performance.
Roseanne glanced over at the book opened face down on the rumpled
pillow. It was the copy of "Peter Pan" she had gotten for the little
book worm from Mary's Book Exchange last week. It was one of the
least scary books she could imagine. She turned her eyes back towards
the boy huddled beside her. His bangs were plastered to his forehead
with sweat and he looked a little too pale for her liking. But she
wasn't going to pry. He would open up to her if and when he felt he
wanted or needed to.
"Are you sure?" She couldn't help the concerned tone that had crept
into her voice. She was a mother, after all. And this child, whom she
had grown quite fond of in the last few months, was obviously scared
stiff.
(Don't push him, remember. The counselor said he would open up to you
eventually. Just give him some time and space.)
When the little boy nodded again, she stood up with a sigh. "Well,
you shouldn't read such scary stories, Duo. They'll rot your brain,
you know. Probably even give you nightmares."
The tall, slender woman moved off towards the door and called back
over her shoulder. "Why don't you come down and help me set the table
for dinner, hmm?"
Duo hopped down from the bed and quickly followed the woman out of
the door. Anything to get out of that room! He shot a glance back
towards the closet. Nervously he nibbled on his lower lip. Could he
have been mistaken? Had he indeed allowed his vivid imagination to
carry him away as he had explained?
Maybe. But he didn't believe it to be so. He could not have imagined
that sense of overpowering fear that had clutched cold fingers about
his heart. No, it had not all been in his mind.
*****
Roseanne's husband, Jeff, had joined them for dinner for a change.
Usually he worked the second shift at a factory called AirLite
Plastics from 3 p.m to 11 p.m. Tonight had been his day off.
Jeff was a kind man with wavy brown hair, laughing brown eyes and a
preference for colorful polo shirts. He was the nicest man Duo had
ever meet, besides his deceased father. He would ask about the boy's
day and really listen to what Duo had to say. That was pretty rare in
an adult as far as the shy child was concerned. Many would ask
questions but never really pay attention to what he had to say in
response. It was frustrating.
After dinner, Jeff went to bed to catch up on his sleep.
(Can you really catch up on lost sleep?) Duo wondered. It was a nice
thought, but it didn't seem likely. Over the past few weeks, the boy
had lost a lot of sleep, mainly from nightmares and such. He had
never been able to catch up with the sleep he had lost, not really.
It just played havoc with his internal clock. Maybe grownups had a
knack for it...
Duo was finishing putting away the last of the clean dishes when,
Alexis, Roseanne's baby, began to cry fussily from her crib. Someone
must sure be hungry judging from the tone and volume of the insistent
cries. Roseanne sighed. She would never manage to get everything
done. There were only so many hours in a day and she had only two
arms. She glanced over at Duo, a glimmer of an idea forming rapidly
in her mind.
(Maybe he wouldn't mind helping out a little. I could give him a bit
of allowance for doing chores. Sounds like a plan!)
Roseanne dried her soapy hands off on her apron. "Hey, Duo? Could you
do me a small favor?"
The small boy turned and looked calmly at his foster mother. His
amethyst eyes questioned silently. He seemed much calmer than he had
been right before dinner. That was good. He had almost scared her.
"Could you please take the load of towels out of the dryer and fold
them up? I would really appreciate it. I would do it myself, but I've
got to feed Alexis."
The boy's mind froze solid. The laundry room? Oh, no! That's the
second scariest room in the whole house! Duo's small mind was
screaming and shouting to JUST SAY NO! No way, José! You can count me
out!
But without even a seconds pause he replied, "Sure, Roseanne, no
problem-o!"
He mentally kicked himself for a darned fool. (You moron! Do you have
a death wish?)
The braided boy found himself standing on top of the flight of steps.
His heart was rabitting in his scrawny chest and his palms were
slicked with sweat.
(You are not going to go down there are you? Is there any way I can
talk you out of this? Please?)
Duo did his best to ignore his babbling mind. He wanted to help out
Roseanne. It made him feel like a contributing member of the
well, ...family. The two grown-ups had been nothing but kind to him.
It was the least he could do.
Taking a deep gulp of air, Duo started down the steps.
TO BE CONTINUED...
CHAPTER TWO
