yellowhorde

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing and I make no money from this or
any other story I write.
Pairings: None
Category: Horror/AU (alternate universe)
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Moments of scariness
Status: Finished

Carefully, Duo navigated the stairway leading into the basement. His
heart was beating in fright. He so did not want to go down here, but
he had agreed to fold up the towels, and that meant going down into
the laundry room, the second scariest room in the whole house.

It wasn't that the room was horrible, although it WAS in the
basement, and we all know that the monsters are supposed to lurk in
the basement. But this basement was not the typical scary movie type
of basement. No, indeed. It was, actually, pretty cozy. It wasn't
damp, or musty. There were no bugs or spider webs or anything. But
still...

Having reached the bottom of the steps, Duo hurried over to the door
leading into the dreaded laundry room. He opened it carefully as if
it were an explosive devise set to go off. Cautiously he reached his
hands into the dark room, blindly reaching for the light switch,
every nerve in his body screaming for him to stop this nonsense... to
pull his groping hand back into the light before some creepy horror
show escapee decided that a juicy morsel such as this was just too
tempting to pass up. The small child's tongue poked out of his mouth
in intense concentration.

(Come on, now. Where is the stupid SWITCH? I know it's in here
somewhere...!)

Finally with a great heaving sigh of relief, the braided boy's
searching hand encountered the light switch - and ONLY the light
switch. He flipped it and the room was drowned in the bright
florescent glow from overhead.

"Creepy crawlies be gone!" He uttered a shaky laugh and scurried into
the small room.

Let's be perfectly honest here, folks. The room was just your common,
run of the mill, ordinary laundry room. Just a washer, dryer, a table
for folding and a bar suspended between the two walls laden with
about a thousand metal coat hangers. You know the ones I'm talking
about - the kind that everyone has, but never use because they always
get tangled together and put huge creases in any garment unfortunate
enough to fall into their grasp. There was nothing terrible scary
about it, at least not in appearance.

Looks can be deceiving. Yes, a truer thought had never been spoken.
The room was perfectly ordinary, but there was a feeling there. Not
everyone could, apparently, pick up on this feeling, otherwise no
laundry would EVER get done. It was something dark, loathsome.
Malevolent. EVIL. It made the hair on your arms prickle in
goosebumps. It was this sense, this *present* you felt watching you
behind your back. Just waiting for the perfect opportunity to reach
out and grab some poor unsuspecting slob and carry them away into the
eternal darkness of oblivion.

Crossing the room in short hasty steps, Duo opened the dryer and
began to jerk towels out and dump them into a nearby empty basket. He
did this quickly so as to get out of this place as soon as possible.
Despite the ever present dread that tightened in his tiny belly, he
took a moment to snuggle with one of the warm, fluffy terry cloth
towels.

The sensory feedback brought on a flash of memory. A much younger
Duo helping his mommy fold towels. Or at least trying to. His mother,
a beautiful woman with the same eyes and hair as her young son had
laughed merrily at his antics as he danced and pranced about in
obvious pleasure. Finally, he had wrapped the soft warmth about his
tiny body and had felt safe, secure, and truly LOVED for one of the
last times in his small life.

If Duo had known that the death of everyone he had held dear was
sneaking ever closer, he would have clung to his mother, crying, and
never let go. But he had been blissfully ignorant of the approaching
disaster that would soon send him from one unsatisfactory foster home
to another. Feeling abused and unloved.

Until now, until here.

Here he felt like a member of the family. In this home he shared with
Roseanne, Jeff, and Alexis, the small boy felt cared for, felt loved
for the first time in years.

Suddenly, as the boy hefted the heavy basket onto his slender hip, a
cold draft swirled about his feet, startling Duo out of his daydreams
and memories. The metal hangers brushed together oh-so-softly and the
gentle sound like wind chimes sent waves of fear coursing through his
veins like icy water, causing him to shiver uncontrollably. Eyes
flying wide in terror, the boy dropped his load, spilling colorful
cloth all over the cold concrete floor.

"Duuuuoooo..."

Like a chill wind the sound brushed briefly against the boy's skin at
the back of his exposed neck. In a flash the boy whirled around. He
didn't want to see the thing that had called his name, no, he had
just wanted to assure himself that the sound had just been his
imagination. If he actually had seen anything it would have sent him
screaming out into the night. Never to return.

(RUN FAST! RUN FAR! RUN NOW!)

The boy began to tremble violently. There was nothing in that room
with him. Nothing at all! All of his senses confirmed this, but deep
down, the boy believed with all his might.

There was something in here with him!

Just because you couldn't see a thing didn't mean it didn't exist. Oh
no, people believed in God, angels, and demons without any real proof
that they existed. But they had faith, they believed. It was the same
with Duo. He sincerely believed that there was something decidedly
unpleasant in here with him.

(Does that make it real?! Oh, God! I hope not!)

Where would he run away to anyway? It was dark and the middle of
winter. Where could he go? Back to his former foster family, with
those abusive, angry grown-ups who had only taken him in because they
had been paid for doing so? Back to the verbal abuse, the slaps, the
drunken shouting? No, he would rather die here and now than return to
that hell hole.

With his breath coming in pants, Duo forced himself to pick up the
basket he had allowed to drop and turn over on the floor. In record
speed he gathered the towels back up, refolding the ones that had
come undone. He never took his eyes away from the task at hand. He
straightened and hoisting the basket once again, the small frightened
child fled from that room and back to the relative safety of the
upstairs.

*****

Duo stood defiantly in front of the closet in his bedroom. His hands
were fixed firmly on his hips, and he glared at the closed door. His
long hair hung damply about him, as of yet unbraided. He was dressed
in yellow pajamas with those cute little attached feet. It was meant
to keep him warm on even the most chilly night. Roseanne had
presented it to him directly after his bubble bath. Duo had fallen in
love with it instantly. His heart had swelled almost to bursting with
happiness. She cared. She really cared.

Now as he stood before the door, his mind dared him to open it up to
take a quick peek. Just one little look see. Uh- hun. Yeah, right!

(Come on, you baby. Chicken! Open the door, I dare you. I DOUBLE dare
you!)

He wavered for a moment, indecisive. One part of his young mind
wanting to see, to prove that there was nothing in that small,
cramped space. Another part of him was screaming that to open the
door would be the act of a looney, a total goofball! The second part
of his mind, the one Duo considered to be infinitely smarter, won the
day. He would NOT open the closet door. He may be a chicken, but he
was a chicken with a strong sense of self-preservation.

(What did pride matter to a dead boy?) He asked himself, (Answer
that one if you can, you crack head!)

Having made up his own mind at last, Duo expertly set about braiding
the long mass of chestnut hair that hung down his back in gently
waves. He did it with sure practiced skill, all the while getting
himself psyched up for the darkness that would soon engulf his tiny
bedroom. He was sincerely beginning to hate bedtime.

After he was done with his hair and as ready for bed as he would ever
likely get, the thin child padded across the room to the switch on
the wall. Holding his breath, he flipped the light switch off and
sprinted back to where his bed was. He leaped into the air, his
heart rocketing in his chest... and landed without incident. In a
flash he had his head and body buried under the thick layers of
covers.

Clenching his eyes closed Duo began to chant over and over
again, "Woola, Woola, Woola!" It was a protective chant his mother
had taught him long ago to help scare away the monsters.

The chant had always managed to make him feel better before, but
tonight it offered no comfort. That was NOT a good sign.

After a long while, the boy fell silent. His eyes remained shut
firmly against the dark. He curled up into a tight little ball,
making himself as small a target as possible. He bit his bottom lip
nervously as he heard, or thought he heard, the faintest slithering.
So soft, it was almost impossible to pick up under normal
circumstances. But the situation was far from normal. The boy's
senses were on red alert, straining to pick up the faintest sound,
smell, movement of air. The boy had heard that stealthy slither and
he was afraid, very afraid.

(Oh, please, don't let the monsters get me, dear God! Please, please,
please!)

The slithering, squelchy sound stopped for a few moments and relief
flooded through the boy in a powerful wave. After a long while and
still no sounds, he began to slowly loosen up out of his ball of
anxiety.

But then, oh horror! He heard the sound again. And it was much, MUCH
CLOSER. From the sound of it, the unknown horror show reject was at
the foot of his bed! It was as if the thing had wanted to be quiet,
but not TOO quiet. IT wanted the small helpless child to hear it, to
be deathly afraid. (It was succeeding at it's task marvelously well,
I can assure you.) IT wanted the fear to flood his tiny veins in icy
terror. IT somehow feed off fear like a vampire feeds off blood. That
was how IT lived, survived, flourished...

It was a very long, long time until sleep overcame the exhausted
child. And what dreams did come, would have driven any grown-up mad
in moments.

*****

Long after the exhausted Duo was finally succumbed to an uneasy sleep
plagued with nightmares, there came a sound from somewhere deep in
the bowels of the closet. It was laughter, deep, dark, and menacing.
It was choked and guttural like a gutter full of rotten leaves and
muck. It was definitely NOT HUMAN. At the sound of that dreadful
chuckle, poor Duo stirred uneasily in his tangle of blankets. A small
cry of fear was torn from his throat, but he did not awaken. If he
had, he would have probably fled in absolute terror into the night,
violet eyes rolling. Or simply died from shock.

Poor Duo. If he had only known. But how could he? No one had ever
told him the things he really needed to survive in the world of
childhood terrors. Maybe no one really knew for certain. Yes, it was
true that the darkly wicked creatures that went bump in the night
needed fear in order to sustain themselves. They needed to feed on
the pure fear of a child to live and survive. But it was BELIEF that
made them grow strong. Belief that enabled them to leave the world of
closets and dark spaces under beds. Belief that gave them power to
enter the real world, the world of man, of light.

If only the poor child had known that his absolute belief, his
unwavering faith that the monsters really did exist was what was
powering them, drawing them around and about him like moths to
flame...

Duo believed in the monsters with all his heart, his soul. Every
fiber of his being. He BELIEVED. And that was good, that was fine,
that was, in fact, just peachy keen.

The chuckle sounded again, dark and sinister and full of terrible,
frightful anticipation.

Soon... Soon...

The door to the closet opened, just a crack, and a large dark shadow,
more dark than even the night itself, if that was even possible,
slithered out and slid along the floor and disappeared under the bed.

TO BE CONTINUED...

CHAPTER THREE