Novels by Musing Musite

The day passed slowly, and Jason sat on the bed, staring dully at his brothers. They still could not see him or feel him, or even sense him. They did not talk about him, but he could see in the tenseness in their bodies that they knew something was wrong. It was almost a whole day since Jason was gone, and he was not yet back, not according to his brothers anyway. “Do you think he is okay?” Jack asked. His voice broke Jason’s heart. The twins were not yet supposed to be on their own. The three of them were not yet supposed to be on their own. Nothing that was happening here was normal. Not the ascian, not his own disappearance, not the eerie howling of the wind outside, which was making the twins even more frightened. They had not left the room since he got there. You want to talk to them, don’t you? The voice was annoying, mocking him. He knew there was nothing he could do to get back at the owner of the voice. Whoever it was, was far more powerful than anyt

“Forgive me, father, for I have sinned,” the man said, leaning back against the seat in the box. On the other side, he could hear the father’s deep breathing. The priest knew the sound of his voice. Always, he would come here to confess his sins. And always, when he went out, these sins drew him back in. The sin of defilement, of both his body and that of others. He was tired of it. “Speak, son,” the priest replied. The man, Conrad, sighed. His lips were heavy, laden with the imminent confession of a sin that he was ashamed of, a sin that he was guilty of. This sin tormented him, made him feel less of himself, filthy, dirty, and without salvation. But the word if God stood sure. That was his only saving grace. If he confessed his sins and forsook them, he would be forgiven. “I confess my sins every time I get the chance,” he began. “Still, every day, I go out and I am faced with these sins once again. I am tired

He is your uncle’s son. Jason heard the voice in his head, as the boy raced out of the room. He could feel the presence of some other creatures in the room. Red-eyed, malevolent creatures. They had the same hate in his heart that he had for this house. This was where the process of his exile had begun, where he was made the dog and given a bad name. The flash that brought him here had all happened too fast. One moment, Jason was in the holiday house with his brothers, the next he was in their old house, hanging by the window and staring into a room. At first, he was terrified. He was just there, standing on air, and gravity was useless. Then he saw the room into which he stared into. It belonged to his uncle’s first and only son, Tommy. Tommy was not the best friend anyone could have, but he was not the terrible person his dad was either. He drew himself to the window ledge and held it for fear of gravity suddenly switching back on and leaving him

Little demons under the bed. That was exactly what little Andrew hated. And there were a lot of them.“Goodnight, little one,” his father said, smiling at him.They were in his room. He wanted his dad to keep staying there, but he knew the man would leave his room soon. That was when they usually came. The monsters that shuffled around under his bed. They would play and roll about waiting for when his legs would mistakenly extend out of the bed, then they would grab his legs and pull him under.Andrew was eight, and he believed under the bed was a portal of some sort. If he ever went under there at night, he would find himself in the land of the monsters. He only dreamt about these monsters. There were those with red, glinting eyes and arms longer than their legs. There were those whose hands were blades, who felt rather than saw him. They had no eyes. The only thing on their face a mouth.The descriptions of these monsters were so vivid in hi

They caused it. You were not wrong. The man had it coming.Annabel folded her hands together. She could still hear the voice of the figure in her head. She could still hear the priest screaming out in pain as she went murderously insane on him. She was looking at herself on top of the priest, an insane child, bringing the knife down again and again on the priest till his body was just one bloody mess. She stabbed the priest so much that she could not recognize his face. The smirk was gone; the authoritative stance disappeared. The last thing she had seen of the face was of unbelief and fear. The priest had looked at her as if she was a monster.“I am a monster,” she mumbled.No.“I am.”You are not.“Who are you?!”She was in a museum, which was closed by the looks of it. Just behind the entrance. She sat on the ground, allowing her gown to wipe the dirt on the floor.The voice in her head had disappeared. Frightened, she looked about th

The food for dinner was particular good. Jason sat at the table and watched his brothers eat the last of the grains. This was the life that he had always wanted for them, yet he was feeling ill at ease.The house was a beach house, filled with three rooms, a toilet, a bath and a shower. Outside, there was a great view, and the beach was not afar off.They sat at the table, close to the outside and Jason felt naked because the walls were made of glass. They could easily be seen, except they went further into the house. But the luxury that the house afforded distracted him. There was the TV that took the whole of the wall, the glass table, the soft, comfortable sofas, the chandelier, the marble, mirror like floor, bedroom with a bed as bed as a whole field. He had insisted that they all would sleep on the same bed, and kept promising himself to go out to see where they were. But he was afraid, afraid of the thing that brought them here. It was not a figment of his imaginatio