The Sound of Fear

Suspense Stories | Dec 4, 2012 | 24 min read
104 Votes, average: 5 out of 5
Suspense Stories

The Sound of Fear

Tremulous rumbles were detected within the circumference area. It blared into their auditory nerves at a constant rate that would never be reached to them as a visual image. Enclosed in a circular abasement basement; no sight of light, and no signs of strength were in them. Their bodies began to become unstable, occasioned by the freezing subzero temperatures that roamed the tortured air. A stimulant gas through the vents made them stay wide awake. Five ungrateful souls trapped and ruined by an unknown villain; maybe God knows this villain. But if he does know this wicked man, he would know that he is not an ordinary person.

A loud terrifying scream screeched into their eardrums, and caused them to panic in unimaginable fear that could only be described in one descriptive detail. They are drugged at every inch in their bodies - LSD blurred their vision and they began to see excruciating creatures hovering above them. They quickly became frightened at the horror scene they were in being filmed by the eyes of the killer above.

Max Dunbar - a self-employed farmer from the countryside boonies in Tamera, Ohio, was in there. He grew up in a barn house - raising dairy cattle, and working to give the farm that unbelievable environment and working condition. Everything went all according to plan until when Max turned fourteen and experienced a life shocking event. His father, Jack, went into the town of Tamera - telling his wife he was going to purchase groceries for the family. Max sat up all night and waited at the front door. Jack never came back home. It saddened Max the most, especially at an age like that. He looked up to his father, and after all what happened - Max had been hanging with the wrong part of the crowd at school, creating mischief with the troublesome rebels every night. One weekend night - a competition that was supposed to end up in a playful laugh - ended up in a fatal occurrence. A game of a friendly match of glove boxing turned to a hostile fight once the winner decided to show off his celebration too far. The one who had lost grabbed the aluminum baseball bat out of the bed of his truck. The winner not knowing the loser was behind him with the bat, was about to know. The first swung landed on the parietal part on the back of the skull, fracturing it. The fracture turned into a mass of bashing in the back of the head, as the winner laid face flat on the ground, defeated. The cerebral cortex of the brain lobe was nothing but destroyed, mashed together, gutted up cells of a meninx membrane. The loser was Max Dunbar, and he wanted to win - win in life and show his friends who was the boss of the clique. He succeeded at doing so, and became leader. Anyone who wanted to be in or say something - had to step up to Max. Some did, and received the same outcome by Max himself and by his followers.

Max sat there on the damp floor, as he witnessed an overgrown humanoid - possibly ten feet tall - coming down to him. Its three-inched dirty fingernails brushed through Max's brown shaggy hair. He let his hair grow out ever since his father left, and started to not give a damn about his self-image. The creature was physically anorexic, but was capable of killing Max mentally - by attacking his defenseless mind.

Max closed his eyes to vanish away from the inhuman man.
"Nothing is there, nothing." He started to breathe heavily and sob, with tears coming down his cheeks, which suddenly became wiped up by the creature's tissue - its tongue loved the taste of saltiness. The four others watched as they saw the creature take its claws and pierce Max's abdomen slowly to absorb his fear. It Dug into Max's abdomen, and groomed his insides like a liter full of puppies crying out for love and attention. It looked up at Max and starred into his eyes. There was nothing there, just a black untouchable air that formed a figurine. The grooming began to become a hurtful violence as the creature yanked its hand out of Max's abdomen furiously. Max felt a terrifying pain in his gut and noticed the creature was gone.
"How could this be?" The chandelier above moved and made a noise of the big wheel of a kid's trike would make if it was knocked down by a bully. The pain from his abdomen made him think if he was alive or not - he could see clearly what was happening in his surroundings, but his mind told him different. Looking down, he saw that the creature took something with it. He could not believe his eyes at the moment. The pain and the LSD were too intolerable to hold on to; it just slipped away from him and he could not bear his hands around it to catch it. A horrible sound came from out of the darkness in the room that sounded like if Helen Keller took four-inch rusty nails between each of her fingers and scratched them around the room like if the walls were made out of chalkboard.

The excruciating pain of Max soon became blanked out of focus when a movement was heard in the far left corner of the room. The metal chandelier above swayed its dim light to the corner and revealed it. It was a gray-skinned creature. The creature was by the corner, crouching down, as it made mucus gurgling crunches to itself. As Max looked down at the wound the creature made, he noticed an ungrateful horror that will never leave his mind and will blind his vision forever of the image. Something down there in the wound was missing. Max looked to the corner and watched with own two eyes - the creature turning to the form of the average human being. The creature, now a "man" slowly moved its neck to Max, cracking it during the process. The chin of the creature tilted higher than its left shoulder, and starred clearly at Max, showing the razor teeth that were visible to see through Max's eyes and the eyeballs that poked out of its sockets, which were the color of a mustard yellow with small swirls of light red running through them. He could not believe what he was witnessing. It was definitely not the creature, but a man he knew - a man that came to him when he looked in the mirror - the man was the man himself.

The LSD brought illusions to his eyes that were in fact, real. Max Dunbar was watching himself in a reflection digesting what look like was his own stomach. He was performing autosarcophagy - (self-cannibalism) - , while he was still chained up. Max viewed himself as a reflection from his hallucinated vision with a shard of glass in one hand and the other bringing his stomach to his mouth to feed. It was a pleasant meal for Max, but a disgusting feast for the others, as their own bile they began to puke out repeatedly - chewed away at their teeth and their gastric acid ate away below them - melting some of the flesh off their feet. Out of the five in the room - there are now only four.

In the room next to them was a 24x24 squared area room that held a widow named Linda Reynolds and a former rapist who used to stalk Linda from behind a tree in her front yard named Tony Clinton. The two had been in their holding cell for as long as four years, surviving off of anything they could find: Their hair, their urine, their dead skin, the plaque on their teeth, etc. But, what they always did to find food was wait until the upcoming fetus Linda received every time she was in pregnancy - that was whenever Tony raped her - and that was about every day for him. Tony would use the old telephone's optical fiber cables hung on the wall of their room to use as a wire. He would use the cables to dig out the fetus like he was performing an incision of a caesarean section on Linda‘s uterus. Blood would squirt on his face, which gave him a sort of pleasure feeling of a red shower of warmth that was too dubious to believe. He would do it without her submitting to a general anesthesia of course - as she would just numb the sensation by using flabbergast and the willing to do it, as a result from starvation. Tony would then dig out the fetus and dissect it using the broken black, shell covering on the phone, to equal out the portions of the share of their food. They started to form a relationship through their murderous romance that sadly and finally had to involve an excessive, hysterotomy abortion at the end. Their type of love was evil, but it made them happy.

Insanity comes rather quick when trapped in an enclosed light less room - especially for a man named Robert Mendoza - who goes crazy when things don‘t go his way in the game of life. He sat there in the dark room - drugged and frightened along the three others with his elbows touching his kneecaps and hands averring over his head, wondering who would die next in the group of four. When will that insidious thing come back to haunt the lives of the rest? "Soon, it will be here very soon." Robert suggested to himself. It was only a matter of time before he lost his grip of being sane and transform into something entirely new and dangerous to the others. They closed their eyes trying to vanish away from the terror they would see if they were remained open. But when they do so, it was their same sight they saw when the eyelids separated; nothing, but complete darkness.

How could you be afraid of the dark when you close your eyes you see it? You might ask that question and have no valid answer. The answer to that question is simple and doesn't need a logical explanation. When you are cornered by the shadows of darkness, you will experience the feeling that you don't feel rarely. But it's not fear itself you need to worry about. It is the fear of the unknown presence that awaits you in the dark area once you enter. Fear is the strongest emotion known to man, followed by love. That is why fear is tangible towards you and can affect each of the five senses in the human body. It can be the touch; it can be the smell, the taste, and the sight. But for Linda Reynolds, Tony Clinton, Robert Mendoza, Kayla Hiesing , and Kurt Jones, it was the sound of fear. The sound of fear gives you the rattling beat in your head that makes you envision images you wouldn't bare to think of. And then makes you do what you do not want to commit.

Kurt Jones was the only person that knew why he was here and suffering from this horror. Late last night - before he even knew he was held up in this room - he had a dream. A kid with a rare disease of pyromania who was always bullied every single day at school - being called names like a "retard" and a "ghost". Crying out for attention and love, Kurt dreams he comes to his school, Tamera high school and drenches the hallways with gasoline when everyone else was in class learning their next lesson. He remembers the nursery rhyme he sang:
"Deck the halls with gasoline, la-la-la-la-la, strike a match, one, two, three, la-la-la-la-la, watch the school burn to ashes, la-la-la-la-la, now I'm glad that I played with matches, la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la!"
It's not exactly a song to be sung by children - only if the children are sadistic as Kurt Jones - then it can be. As soon as the students exit out of the classroom, they would be ignited to flames and acquire three degree burns to their flesh. But that never happened in Kurt's life. But what did happen was a fire caused by an arsonist, which was Kurt himself five years ago.

The gray house that stood next to the big hill near the cemetery that was haunted supposedly, was his victim. Kids came to this graveyard in October to become scared and to sometimes piss on the gravestone of Jonathon Henry - a horsemen messenger in the late 1800's who committed suicide via hanging himself on the only oak tree that welcomed visitors to the burial ground. The house that was set on fire on November 15, 2002, by Kurt Jones himself, held a family of five who were burnt to death by the horror of Molotov cocktails - setting the gray house to flames in a short period of time. No one from inside of the house escaped. Black ash and powdered fragments of bone were what remained of the house and family.

Going home from a successful fire - Kurt washed up in the upstairs bathroom next to his parent's bedroom. Bending his neck down to the bathroom sink - he splashed cold water on his face to cool him off and to evade the picture of the eleven year old girl banging on the window to try to achieve freedom - screaming until her lungs were collapsed by the fire smoke and her body torched in flames - away from his mind. Looking up, Kurt experienced an unforgettable memory. The family he just murdered in the house fire appeared in the mirror - made of ash and beaming flashes of bright light bounced off their bodies - blinding his pale eyes. This was no Bloody Mary - this was the real, right before his eyes. Their glares made them look more burnt than they really were. Looking at them - Kurt noticed a strange sight - there were only four out of five ash bodies in the mirror he previously killed during the night.
"Where is the other body?" He thought to himself.

The struck from earlier came back into their eardrums. lyrics that scream profanity at a gurgling beat started to be produced by Robert Mendoza.
"What the fuck was that noise?! I need to get out of here before that thing comes back!" Rob began to talk to himself. He was developing another personality that made him talk in two different voices.
"You won't be able to escape, Robert. You are a piece of shit, spic. You will never leave. You will die here." His second identity told him. "You deserve this for what you have done in life." "No, shut the fuck up!" Robert started to become filled with crazed anger that could snap at any second like a homeless man being rejected from someone not loaning any change to him - in other words, it could turn deadly.
"You are too afraid to leave this room, Robert. Why do you even try to keep me away?" "Shut up, shut up!" He repeated himself. "You want to see me get out?! Well, I'm going to become free right now, you prick!"

Kurt and Kayla stared into a blank vision, but listened closely at Robert's remark. Robert grabbed his chained ankle and felt that he was wearing a pair of his steel-toed boots from when he was free in the fresh air. He took a hold of the voice in his head and muted its volume by stomping on one of his chained ankles, causing him to yell in harrowing pain. The voice inside his head could still be heard and it was driving him insane. Placing both his hands on the brick wall in front of him - Robert slams his face into the hard, brick wall. The process repeated, just like the voice inside his head. His nose shattered to hundreds of pieces of bone, just like if someone dropped a glass pitcher on a hard surface. His broken stomped foot tripped him to the ground, which resulted in the bone peeling out of his skin and grinding against the brick wall, and for him to bang his head against the cement floor. He kept banging his head against the cement floor like if he was trying to head butt someone - the someone inside of him that left him to die from blunt force trauma. A heavy amount of blood leaked out of his massive injury, just before he died, and the voice continued to follow him. It will never stop.

After he died - the reminiscing of his trial left him with a question.
"Who was the man in the black hooded jacket who left the trial?" He thought it had to do with the situation that happened months prior of him kicking an unconscious kid in the head and framing it on someone else. Robert Mendoza will never find out who the man was. He will only remember the sound of fear.

The struck came back and a shine of light blinded Kurt and Kayla, forcing them to shield their eyes with their shivering arms. The sound of the rusted metal chandelier hanging above them swayed in a constant motion, as it brought light to each side of the circular room, showing off the splatters of dried blood that covered the grimy mold on the brick walls. It was the perfect man-made biome for their living condition.

The chandelier moved left to right and seemed to never stop. Kurt could finally see Kayla in the light and he recognized her from earlier years. She was one of his teachers in high school that picked on him for never turning in homework and for wearing the same clothes to school everyday of the week. He stood there in deep awkward silence as she stood there, looking at him with her naked eyes.
"Hello" He spoke his first word since he awoken and thought to himself at the same time his lips moved that he regretted even talking. She stood there just staring into the eyes of Kurt - not saying one mumble and by the looks of her - she was trembling from the coldness in the room. As Kurt watched her stay still, he noticed something small on the right side of her leg seeping down to the floor. The light was too dim for him to receive a full image at what he was witnessing at the moment. As he tried to move closer, as far as his chains would let him, Kayla revealed something. She was not cuffed at the ankles, or neither was she cuffed at anywhere on her body. Kurt thought the LSD was playing wild tricks on him, but it wasn't, or was it?

Kayla walked over to the hatch and found a key showing itself underneath the dusty blanket. Picking it up, the metal chandelier above swayed heavily and crashed against the brick wall, leaving the room in complete darkness. As Kayla unlocked the hatch and opened it - a flash flew in brighter than the sun at midday and brought with it the evil of night that had a face of anthropomorphism. The face blew a message into Kurt's ear. "Ten years, Kurt." The voice was so calm - it brought a warm feeling that crawled up Kurt like a beetle sneaking up to claim its prize. Kurt did not know what ten years meant.

Peace and quiet now did not worry Kurt at all - however his life and social life had been completely ruined and forever gone in this dark dungeon that had no food for him to eat and no signs of water drips for him to find and take somewhat of a drink if the piped pumped water at all. The only thing he had was his voice and the LSD, which trapped in his body for God knows how long and if he was ever going to become insane or not - or if he was ever going to escape this room and go back to what he loves and does best. What he does best was being a complete psychopath, using fire to burn anything he wanted. He was very great at doing that too, by how everything turned out at the end.

A day had passed with no sleep and Kurt felt a little normal again and not paranoid from what he was in. His mind was still telling him to find food and water or he would rot in this shithole. The only decision for Kurt to do was to tap his forehead against the wall until an idea popped up into his head…… Nothing, just blank and pain from tapping his head against the wall.

Suddenly, something sticky underneath him came against his feet. The feeling was warm, but it felt good. He splashed his feet in it as if it was a puddle of rain after a storm. His two-inch toenails started to scrap against the cement like a kitten playing continuously with a wooden post, or perhaps a ball of yarn. But he didn't mind that, the feeling was great and it felt like water - water, seems like he hasn't had it in years.

When Kurt was out and about, water was something nasty to his taste buds and it was a hard chore to actually put the glass of water to his lips to drink. It was also something that put his fires out, and he hated that. However, water was what he needed to survive and he wasn't going to give up that chance to do so. Bending down, Kurt got on his knees and bended his neck down to the floor and took a sniff at the mysterious liquid. He knew water was clear and odorless, and this liquid had a scent to it. Kurt realized the liquid was fresh and decided to place his lips in it to have a taste. He closed his eyes and imagined he was in a wonderland, drinking from the fountain of youth - being the king on the throne that nobody could conquer. As soon as Kurt took a couple more swallows of the liquid, he remembered what had happened the previous day. Max Dunbar and Robert Mendoza died in this room in a gruesome way. And…, and there was a lot of blood. Kurt reacts from sniffing with his bloodhound nose and draws his head back into the wall with a smack.

Dreamscapes and nightmares are always the same for Kurt when he falls into a deep slumber. Death and pain wait whenever he awakes from the state of limbo. If he does awake or not - maybe or maybe not. There was only one way to find out for sure and that was to just sleep.
A dark cold surrounded his body worse than the room he was in, and a pigment of color came to his eyes that brought the life of him when he was just a little boy in his room with nothing to do, and no friends to play with. Looking around in his room he sees just white and a window in front of him that revealed the outside world of the town of Tamera. A loud scream comes from outside the window - possibly a neighbor or some source - and terrifies Kurt to death, ordering him to shake as if he was in a blistering blizzard with no warm clothing. A mist came from outside the window and into his room, and entered his body through his eye sockets, which made him see the life around him. It was the life he had seen when he was seven years old and he could not control what he could do in movement. The mist inside him made him walk up to the window and look out at the street. Kurt could see children out there playing Ring around the Rosie very cheerfully as if today was their last day and the bombs were going to launch to start a nuclear holocaust.
"Let them fall to ashes." Kurt muttered to himself.

All of a sudden the daylight outside turned to dark and shouting was heard downstairs. "You slut! How could you do this to me, you fucking bitch!" His father was yelling at his mother for sleeping with her boss to get a promotion. The problem was, she didn't get the promotion, just a good time with a sixty-year old sweaty, hairy chest.
"Please Joe, I didn't know, I promise I did not know!" Kurt could not move; he just stood still listening to the horror of the shouting his father was making.
"Don't give me that, you dumb, cunt!" This time Kurt could go downstairs, but had to sit on the bottom step hearing the screams of his father. He could see the reflection of his parents in the mirror hanging above the cardboard boxes they had to unload since they moved to this house a week ago.
"Now you're going to get it" Joe had a wooden yard stick in his hand and raised it above his head like a serial killer in a movie about to stab its victim. As Kurt watched in the mirror, his mother was on the ground holding her hand up and using the other to protect her face from Joe as he swung the yard stick at her face and did it again and again and again until the yard stick broke over her head.
Joe stood there looking at his wife curdled up into a ball, crying her eyes out from having a face full of splinters and blemishes of blood that came out of the wounded areas. He laughed at her and grabbed the back of her long black hair and dragged her to the front door.
"Help, please somebody help me!" Her screams forced Kurt to run back upstairs into his bedroom and slam the door to go and hide underneath his bed.
"Oh my God, is there anybody out there, please help me! Kur-" "Shut up you bitch!" Joe took her by the head and rammed her face into the door. "Kurt can't help you! He's nothing but a retard that isn't anything and will always remain nothing!" She laid there on the floor semiconscious looking through her dazed blurred vision. There, she could see Joe standing above her, looking down at her in disgust.
"Help me." She said as she held a hand up in the air trying to touch Joe. Joe just looked down at her thinking nothing of her and wished she would just leave his life forever and never come back to his mind, and to be blanked out of all his memories he ever had with her. "You make me sick to my fucking stomach, bitch. I regret meeting you and having sex with you to give birth to that retard upstairs that is probably going to burn this house down sooner or later. That's why when I'm done with you, I'm going to drive my boot to that kid's mouth and kick his teeth in, or maybe cut his hands off, so he can't start a fire ever again. Yeah, you hear me Kurt. I'm going to find you up there and fucking kill you kid! You fucking hear me!" Kurt could hear his father and he wasn't scared of him, not at all. He knew he was just a drunk that had a loud talking rage, and couldn't fight like the neighbors dog that couldn't show its strength - it was just bark. He then picked her head back up and drove it into the mail slot like he was telling the mailman that he sent the wrong package - to take it back, and never come back with it, because I do not want it - it is junk mail.
Pounding stepped on the stairs from Joe - making his way up to his son's room to eliminate a disgrace of joy and being proud, from a man who ironically is an opprobrious father to his own biological son. Joe was a redhead with the body build of a football player - plus being at the age of forty-two -he was a sport fanatic, and always sporting a jersey of his favorite professional team. He heard his wife, Kristen come home from work, closing the door so hard that the vibration shook off the urn full of Joe's father, Howard Douglas ashes on the floor, breaking the memories of Joe's relationship with his father. The reaction surprisingly struck Kristen when she seen Joe come out of the kitchen with a full bottle of beer in his hand. She knew he was not just mad at her for breaking the past, but what she did earlier in the week. That was in fact, her sleeping with her boss for a promising promotion. Unfortunately she did not get it, and that depressed, Joe. He did what he had to do to her; throw his full bottle of beer at her, breaking it on instant striking, and stimulating her to fall on the ground and panic on the upcoming punishing she seemed to deserve, according to Joe's thoughts. It all started there, when Kurt was teleported telepathically, until he could physically move a muscle in his body. That night when Kurt was only seven years old, he witnessed his father in a mirror's point of view beat his mother with a wooden yardstick across the face. Joseph Jones killed his wife Kristen that night by a way of a drunk, domestic violence mixed in with a bit of disappointed promises of certain prosperity and happiness. It wasn't until Kurt went upstairs to hide under his bed, was when he killed her. He could hear his own father removing his mother from the household for good; that was the sound of fear for Kurt. He can still remember her crying screams from that night; it was his nightmare. A nightmare that was alive and only seemed to disappear whenever he could fall asleep, and that was never. If he could fall asleep at night, he would awake the following morning with the face of his father's burnt into his eyes. Kurt then murdered his father when he tried to break the door down of his room. Joe was introduced to a flick of a lighter, and a press of a can of mosquito spray right behind the lighter. It ignited him to flames at the very second, and reacted him to run on fire, breaking the stair railings to the side, and falling fourteen feet to the ground floor. The last thing Joe saw before he was killed, was his wife Kristen, on the floor ten feet away from him, with her eyes fully open, watching her once adorable husband, be torched alive.
Joseph Jones is the morning sun for Kurt, but it doesn't give him a positive attitude; just makes him negative and to have the hormones for anything pyrogenic. While in this room, he rubbed his hands together at the palms to create a small amount of friction just to be close to that warmth of his fires again. He wanted to see those flames rise from the ground again; he was bound determined that he was going to get out of here, and light one.
Being the only one tortured in this eccentric incarnation, Kurt discusses his remembrances of being in the Tamera courthouse to himself. A culprit juvenile convicted and became a delinquent for committing patricide; exposed by a neighbor that overheard the screams of Joe, finding Kurt applying a ligature, and almost had near death from a suspension by the neck. They locked him away in a mental hospital for the next eight years until he turned fifth teen, and his aunt took him in. Her name was Karen and she was a "nasty, bitch" coming from Kurt's own words, when they first met. She sheltered Kurt away from any kids at a public school, and educated him herself from past qualified schooling she taught when she was younger. A pyromaniac who was an astonishing aptitude when it came to academic knowledge that Karen had to watch her surroundings at all times for any suspicious activity. It was only a matter of time before the obsession kicked in, and turn Kurt into the monster he once was; the thing he still is inside. The thing that will erupt out of Kurt and become tempted to commit the burning once again; just to absolute the envisioned images he viewed from awaking, and come to a sense of soberness.

He was awake and he needed to liberate from the imprisonment, before the blood on the cement floor is added with his own blood. The blood still remained on his taste buds and he took his pointer finger of one hand, and combed it down his tongue. As he did that process, a bump jumped his finger from the surface of his tongue. He felt the bump again, and noticed it was a stud piercing at the bottom of his tongue. He flipped his tongue back and felt the bottom; it was a pointed insert for some source, perhaps for a keyhole.
"But how can I get it out for the use of a key?" He thought.
He saw a broken piece of glass on the floor and decided to pick it up. He took his about one inch fingernail on one of his hands and pinches his tongue as he pulls it out for his dominant hand. He took the glass shard from his hand and began slicing back and forth in a downward cut right behind the studded piercing. Agonizing screams came out of Kurt's mouth that sounds like an obese special kid at school running to lunch hungry. He stretched his tongue out like peeling off dead skin on chapped lips. Three fourths of his tongue laid dangling from his mouth and the shocked scariness forced him to bite down on the rest. Blood gushed out through the gaps of his front teeth as he chewed his tongue away like bubblegum - Homemade bubblegum. He ripped his tongue out and flopped it down on his hand. The studded piercing revealed a miniature key pin that was used to unlock the chain on his ankles. He did so, trembling with pain and disgust as he was about to faint from blood loss. Unlocking the cuff, he walked slowly to the hatch - his toenails scratched on the cement floor as he made his way to it. As he reached his destination to the hatch, he kneeled down and kiss it, as he inserted the key into the keyhole. The hatch was finally open and he could see complete darkness. As he walked out into the unknown area, a bright flash came across his eyes like a slap to the face. As he turned his head to the right, he entered an excruciating zone of danger, and a struck of a numbness cut hit him on his right shoulder. The struck landed him to the ground immediately and he leaned his neck up from the ground and felt the rest of his cut out tongue swallow down his throat, choking him. As he was choking, he saw his assassin above hanging from the ceiling. A man that had his ribs removed and surgically attached to the back of his shoulder blades, and his eyes permanently gone from its sockets. It resembled a Christmas ornament as it hung by a hook inserted through the spinal cord. It was the angel of death. It held a blade sword drenched in Kurt's blood from his severed arm that now laid on the ground in front of him as he fainted off from reality.

Kurt's mind traveled throughout the perimeter, and he could see. He saw in one room a man, gripping forceps onto a infant's throat, squeezing it, as the man walked over to a railing that held a murky water pit full of savaged crocodiles. The man let go of the grip of the forceps, and the infant landed in the water to be used as reptile food. In the next room, an elderly man was being used as a punching bag for a fighter wielding brass knuckles. In another, a woman was being chased by a man in a black hazmat suit, where the room was being filled with radioactive gases - the man finally caught her and slammed her buttocks on a bear trap for the use of a violent comfort, as she awaited to die from radioactive poisoning. In the final room Kurt saw - a small boy with broken wrists was locked in a cage, fighting off rottweilers that had steroids living in their blood stream. Kurt then passed out.

When in the session of almost dozing off from the lack of blood flow, you realize you are gaining a blurred perspective and when you try to recover from the dizziness and warm feeling of sweat accumulating on your body, you faint. However, some want to decease the past of depression caused to them and do so by being in this condition and inflicting this act by any ways of repetition, like a person that runs the razor down their wrist to experience semi consciousness to escape their blank life, hoping to start a new one when they awake from that bathroom floor. And once awoken they aim their direction towards the person that ordered them to do this in the first place.
Ten years later Kurt Jones nestles in a lake house in Roltan, Michigan. He escaped from Ohio from the person that brought him faintness and pain. He sat on the couch, watching television, with his new prosthetic right arm. The doorbell rang like an echo through the entire lake house. He got up from the couch and walked over to the door, opening it with his prosthetic arm. When he opened it, he was greeted by a man in a black hooded sweatshirt. The hood was up. The appearance of the man had a face of burnt skin. The person took both his hands and put his hood back. " Do you remember me, Kurt?" Kurt looked at him in amazement. " It's me, Kurt. I am here to bring the action of the words I told you that night." Kurt remembered it all now. The missing ash body from the mirror was this person. . " Oh, Kurt, do you remember all your friends? Rob Mendoza, and Max Dunbar? Those were your friends. I'm here to do the deed."
Kurt looked at the man, as the man took out a handheld crucifix. Kurt noticed the crucifix had a blade on the end. He closed his eyes, thinking he was going to be killed. Once he opened his eyes, the man stabbed the crucifix into his own throat and the blood spurted into Kurt's face. Kurt closed his eyes again. The sounds of the squirting of blood was the sound of fear…., and all of a sudden, Kurt opened his eyes back up. Kurt Jones was in his bed, and his right arm was not prosthetic. But what still remained was the awaking sun. His father's face burnt into his vision. Kurt screamed from the never happening - he always will to once he awakes again, because of the sound of fear he encountered throughout his life.

For those people who think they will get away with the acts they've done throughout life, are in for it. Once they look back and see what they said or done, it will always follow them and speak to them in their minds. It will be their sound of fear of remembering the past. The past that they can't escape - they will never escape from the past - their present and their future will forever torment them like a curse. All they can do is pray to keep having their good luck in getting away, but that luck one day will not be there for them. It will disappear and the ones they've done bad to, will catch them. They will be their sound of fear, and karma….karma for them will be a bitch. ~ Infamous McMason

Source: http://creepypasta.wikia.com/wiki/The_Sound_of_Fear

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Notice (8): Undefined index: User [APP/View/stories/story.ctp, line 227]
Notice (8): Trying to access array offset on value of type null [APP/View/stories/story.ctp, line 227]

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