Horror story: The Grand Shelter

K. N. Johnson
Aug 25, 2017 · 2 min read

(Part 1)

A short story that I hope you all enjoy. A young hiker is trapped because of a storm but finds shelter in a cave. As the days pass and he has no food, disturbing ideas will pass through his mind.

The last sound he’d been able to hear before hitting his head had been so diffuse that he doubted he had not dreamed it all.
He could not move. That was all he knew. He could not discern whether those shadows he saw were reality or nothing more than a product of his abulia. Maybe he dreamed it all? Was he in the bed of a hospital or in the bed of his own house? How could he know? Was he in a coma and couldn’t even know?

For a time that seemed long, he decided not to move. The pain was concentrated somewhere below her belly, but he was not even able to find it. He felt liquid in his fingers but his hands were dry and he could barely move them. He could feel her mouth dry even as the moisture flooded her body, as if he had been submerged in frozen water.
“Am I sleeping?” he asked himself once more. Then he opened his eyes. He was not sleeping. Darkness had flooded the cave. The one in which he had fallen asleep the night before. The memories crowded and hit his temples like a hammer.

“Am I alone?” he asked himself, though he already knew the answer. In his left hand lay a mobile phone spoiled by moisture and blow. He had tried to ask for help both through the device and his lips, but no one had answered. Few knew where he had gone. Few knew he was gone.
Indeed. He was alone.

)
K. N. Johnson

Written by

Pretentious, arrogant, little cliché. Novelist and poet. Sadness makes me write, and when I’m happy I do not write. https://www.instagram.com/k_n_johnson/?hl=es

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