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keehomania · 4 months ago

Text

horror shorts (공포 단편)

bangtan sonyeondan (방탄소년단)

✧.* 16+

KIM NAMJOON (김남준)

it took him a week to find where you keep your wifi password. he was worried you’d thrown it away, but there it was in the cutlery drawer of all places. everything about the way you organized things confused him. maybe because you lived on your own, you just put things wherever and however. he knew there was someone else before, he heard you talking about him on the phone. jin? seokjin? anyway, he knew you said it was tough being alone. but you weren't alone, of course. you had him.

there was a crack in your roof where he could see down onto the street below. the roof was small, but he liked his places cramped. he even stuffed a few things up there to make it smaller (just bits and pieces from the recycling, he didn’t think you’d miss them). he could sit with his face against the wall and see down onto the street. that’s where he saw you meeting up with all those people wearing all black. it would've been weird anyway because you never meet anyone, but they were all rubbing your back and holding your hand. he was scared you were going to bring them in but you just went off together.

it really explained a lot that there was someone else before him. like the fact you had two sets of drawers in your bedroom, or how you lived in such a big house all by yourself, and did weird things like leave the password in the cutlery drawer or watch the same show all day on a weekend.

he wasn't one to talk, mind you. he was addicted to his toys. like the cigarette lighter that was fun to flick on and off, or the tube that had all the patterns in you could change. he could look down that thing for hours. he often has. that was what he normally did when you were home. or he just sat back and listened to you do the washing or run a shower or something like that. he crawlled up the walls and hung there with his ear to the pipes, listening to the water rushing by. that kind of thing made him happy. plus you never had anyone around so once he got your schedule memorized, he could move around as much as he needed.

he knew what you had. it was a symbiotic relationship. that meant you helped him by giving me a place to sleep and wifi, and he helped you by eating all the spiders. of course, there was no need to thank him. he fell asleep under the towels in your airing cupboard once (before he found the roof) and he saw you trying to get rid of one that was living under your sink with a broom. he had never seen so much fuss in his entire life. but it made no difference to him how many legs something has, so he just ate them up whenever he found one, and any other thing that made its way into the house without permission.

he tried not take too much food either. he found he could usually survive off the things you left out, or throw away. like the banana skins you tended to throw out. he never needed too much food to get by. he really, really liked butter though. not to eat so much as just to play with. you once left a block out by the window in the sun and it went all melty while you were at work, so he started playing with it. once he’d stuck his finger in once it was hard to stop. he had it looking like a puddle by the end. but then, he realized it was six and you’d be home soon, so he had to press it back into a rectangle as best he could. but then, he heard you opening the door. boy was he startled. he went into the cupboard under the stairs (the one you never went in as it was full of men’s shoes and coats) and he watched you come in through the doorway. but then came the weird part: you didn’t even notice the butter. all you did was make a cup of tea and then give up halfway through and start crying. then you ordered a chinese and barely ate any before throwing it away. that was what he meant about your weird habits.

you cooked dinner the other evening. he noticed because you played music, which you never did, and you made something with took almost an hour and a half with about a thousand ingredients. he crept down to the top of the staircase and he could see you bouncing around doing moves with the spoon. it was so funny, he had to cover his mouth to keep from laughing. then he saw something that had him scared. you’d laid two places at the table.

he thought there was someone else in the house and climbed all the way up to the ceiling thinking they’d see him. as he was hanging there, he saw you serving two plates and he couldn’t move for the panic. another person. he just knew he wouldn’t like them as much as you. that they'd ruin everything and make him go all crazy like he used to be. he didn't know what to do. he was ready to hurt them.

then you sat down. you lit the candle on the table and started eating by yourself. nobody else showed up, and after you were done you took the other food and threw it away. even though he was relieved, he felt kind of bad that the other person never showed up. you didn’t seem sad, though. it was like you’d expected it to just be you. after you went to bed, he went through the bin and ate some of the food you threw away. it was delicious.

he knew something was wrong the next day because you didn’t leave for work, and then you ran a bath in the middle of the afternoon. after you’d been in there for ages and ages, he started to get this horrible bad feeling. he crawled down to the landing. the bathroom door was open a crack, so he peeked through. he saw your hand. it was hanging, not in a natural way, and there was this long red line going down it and then he realized.

he ran back upstairs. he was a coward. he hid under his pile of stuff and started to cry. he thought about running away. he thought about the color a pink bathmat went when it was covered in blood. he thought about how much he wanted to be somewhere else. but most of all, he thought about you, and how little sense you make. he was sorry he had lit your roof on fire.

it was the only way he could think to get people to come. it actually worked better than expected. he ran down to the cupboard under the stairs and curled up with his hands over his head until he heard them kick the door down and carry you out. there was a lot of confusion and bad language, but they found you and he heard one say you were still breathing.

so, his favorite place in the whole world was gone now. most of his things as well, though he did think to grab the pattern tube. the rest was just a big black wig on top of your house. but he wasn't scared. you’d get better, and when you came back, he’d still be here. he didn't think it was nice to be alone.

KIM SEOKJIN (김석진)

“hey,” the masculine voice called out.

you told yourself you were just imagining it.

“hey sweetheart,” the masculine voice repeated.

you drew youe knees up to your chest and ducked your head under the blanket, trying to shut out the voice and the cold wind that drifted in through the window, ruffling the curtains. it was as if you were a little girl again, but you weren't. “who are you?” you asked.

“the monster underneath your bed,” the voice replied.

“you’re real?” you asked.

“what do you mean?” he said. “of course i’m real.”

“do you have a name?” you asked.

“of course i have a name, kim seokjin.”

“kim seokjin?”

“yeah,” he said. “something wrong with that?”

“no,” you said. “it’s just not very monster-like.”

“well, my parents didn’t want me to be a monster.”

“really? what did they want you to be?”

“a lawyer.”

“that’s funny,” you said. in fact, you could feel yourself beginning to smile.

“what do your parents want you to be?” he asked.

“dunno, hey jin?”

“yeah?”

“aren’t you gonna scare me or something?”

“why would i do that?”

“you’re a monster, aren’t you?”

“of course, but that doesn’t mean that i scare girls.”

“i thought that was your job.”

“it is my job to scare people,” he responded. “bad people.”

“am i a bad person?” you asked.

“no,” he said, “but you’re not the one i’m here to scare.”

“who are you here to scare?” you asked.

“the man in your closet.”

the skin on your arms went numb. you wanted to ask him what he meant, but you fell silent as you heard a rustling come from the closet. the closet door creaked open, and you could hear footsteps coming towards you across the bedroom floor. you didn’t dare peek out of the blanket. the footsteps stopped, and you could hear heavy breathing next to your head, so you squeezed your eyes tight. the warm sanctuary of the blanket disappeared as it was yanked off you.

you hugged your arms around your knees and prepared for the worst. a scream shattered the night air, followed by the sound of breaking glass. you opened your eyes to take a peek, only to see a knife lying on the carpet next to your bed, blade glinting in the moonlight. your parents rushed into the room and asked you what had happened, but you didn’t know what to say, only that someone had been hiding in your closet and they’d jumped out the window.

your parents called the police and they came right away. they picked up a man called jackson wang sprinting through the streets a couple blocks away. he was covered in blood and broken glass. they found jackson’s car abandoned on your property, and inside they found duct tape, knives, gloves and a video camera.

from what you heard, jackson’s lawyer employed an insanity defense, and he was currently incarcerated in a state mental facility for the criminally insane. you never heard from seokjin again, but the officer who arrested jackson told you that he slept on the floor of the facility.

he told the doctors that he was terrified of seokjin, the monster under his bed.

MIN YOONGI (민윤기)

do not speak of this sheet to any passenger. you are the only human on this flight.

check the time on your phone after reading this sheet. all rules will apply based on the time of your phone.

during the first hour of the flight, do not talk to anyone. people may try to talk to you, but ignore them completely.

during the second hour of the flight, you may start talking again, but if anyone mentions the window, do not look outside the window under any circumstances.

if you hear a child crying in the cabin, immediately run to the bathroom.

during the third hour of the flight, the captain will make an announcement. follow the instructions.

during the fourth hour of the flight, do not sit in your seat.

if you make it past the fourth hour, you will need to spend the rest of the flight evading the chaser. you will know who the chaser is when you see them.

he re-read the rules again while chuckling. did they give one of those to every passenger, or was he somehow randomly chosen for this prank? he checked the time on my phone just to humour the list. 7:13am.

that would be the first hour of the flight. suddenly, a young man walked over to his seat and sat right beside him. he gave him a casual side glance and saw that he was carrying what looked to be a laptop bag. “great,” yoongi thought, “he’ll work on whatever he’s doing and leave me alone for the flight”

the man didn’t even bother to exchange a single word with him as he settled down in his seat and put on his seatbelt. he stared straight ahead and completely avoided him. yoongi let him be and started to fiddle with his flight console. some people just liked to be left alone.

soon enough, the captain made an announcement of the plane starting and the steady hum of the plane engines started to vibrate the entire cabin. the plane started to accelerate until the g-force pushed him into his seat. moments later, he felt the plane rising into the air. he wasn't typically scared of flights, but getting on a flight always made him a bit queasy. this time though, his stomach was in knots, and beads of sweat were running down his forehead. his instincts told him he was stepping into grave danger, but he dismissed his thoughts.

the young man on his left suddenly tapped on his shoulder. he jolted up like he’d just been electrocuted. even through his jacket, the man's hand felt cold. cold and heavy, like a dead person’s hand.

he turned around and faced the young man. his face seemed, wrong. you know how those realistic human robots could creep people out because of how close to human they were, yet subconsciously we could tell that they weren’t human? that man was giving him that same unsettling feeling and his facial features were just artificial in a way he couldn’t place. maybe it was his eyes. a little too big, the pupils abnormally dilated. or maybe it was his nose, not exactly in the center of his face. or perhaps it was his mouth, lips way too thin and long. he didn’t look obnoxiously fake. in fact, it was those very subtle blemishes in his facial features that made him look like something trying to look like a human. and then he spoke.

his voice was normal. upon hearing his voice, the man seemed to look normal too and yoongi thought he was just freaking out for no reason. “do you wear headphones?” he asked

that was a weird question to ask. sid he want headphones? yoongi was about to open my mouth to speak when he spoke again.

“how would you feel if i cut your hand off right now?”

what was disturbing wasn’t the nature of the question itself, but the fact that he spoke in such a calm manner. it was as if he was asking him how his day was. suddenly, his mind went to the list of rules that he had subconsciously been squeezing in his hand. the first rule said to not talk to anyone on the flight no matter how much they tried to talk to you. he decided to ignore the man.

he stopped pestering yoongi and returned to work on his laptop. when he looked over at his laptop, he gasped at what he saw on his screen.

he had a photo of yoongi on his screen. that’s it. nothing else, just a full screen photo of him. before he could process that properly, he looked over at his keyboard and noticed that it wasn’t a standard keyboard. in fact, it really wouldn’t even count as a keyboard. it was made up of oddly shaped keys, all marked with strange letters that he doubt existed. the man continued to stare intently at the photo of me on his screen. it was then that yoongi realized that the list of rules wasn't a joke. suddenly, a flight attendant popped out of nowhere.

“sir, is this man bothering you?”

“yes he is,” he replied before his voice caught up in his throat.

in under a second, everyone in the cabin snapped their heads around until they were staring directly at him. their faces, they all looked wrong. inhumane. slowly, their long thin lips curled into wide smiles, and red tears started to roll down their faces.

JUNG HOSEOK (정호석)

looks like you’re using a new device. please verify your identity with the following security questions.

he hated answering those questions. he resentfully clicked, “ok.”

what was the name of your childhood best friend?

hoseok's hands hovered over the keyboard. two people came to mind—kim namjoon and min yoongi. he hadn’t talked to them in years, but considered them best friends back then. he couldn’t remember which he’d entered when he made the account, so he started with namjoon.

incorrect answer.

this was precisely why he hated these questions. he tried yoongi.

incorrect answer.

he tried first and last names. nicknames. surnames only. each time, the same message popped up: incorrect answer. he sat there, confused, staring at the screen. skip this question, he clicked, finally. but the next question had him even more confused.

what was the name of your high school?

“hanyang cyber university,” he entered.

incorrect answer.

how? frowning, he entered “hanyang cyber university,” “cyber university of hanyang.” every permutation of “hanyang” and “university” he could think of. anything that it could possibly be. but each time, those two words popped up, burning into his brain. incorrect answer.

skip this question, he clicked, and the next question popped up.

do you remember now, hoseok?

he jolted back from the screen. what the hell? his heart pounded and he suddenly felt dizzy. faint. he wiped at his face, feeling the walls closing in. then, he blinked. no. that’s not what it said. he misread it. he reread the sentence:

did you receive a text just now, hoseok?

we’re going to try to verify your account a different way. enter the verification code we sent to (XXX)-XXX-1539...

everything was fine. he picked up his phone and began tapping at the screen—then, jerked his fingers back. what was that? something wet and dark coated the glass, sticking to his fingertips. he wiped the phone off against his shirt, grimacing, and opened the text. fingers shaking, he slowly entered the code into the site.

thank you, hoseok. you’re all set!

he stood up, stretched, and walked towards the kitchen. he needed a drink after all this. after rummaging in the pantry for a few minutes, he pulled out a bottle of soju and poured himself a shot.

as he tipped his head back to down it, he saw the blood.

so much blood, pooling out from something unseen in the family room. his heart beat painfully in my chest as he crept forward. a body. face down. his jean pocket was turned inside-out, and strewn across the carpet were his wallet, his keys. no phone. trembling, he reached for the wallet and pulled out a driver’s license. the first name jumped out at him.

HOSEOK

he reached into his own pocket and pulled out his wallet. but he already knew the truth, now. he wasn’t hoseok. he never was.

he glanced over at his laptop, and the phone, sitting next to it. the bank’s account homepage, filling the screen, showing thousands of dollars ready to be transferred.

he’d done this.

he remembered, now.

PARK JIMIN (박지민)

every night on his walk home from work, jimin listened to true crime podcasts. even though his favorite podcast already released their episode for this week, the app said there was a new one. excited, he let it play.

“it was a nice city—the kind that has mom and pop shops lining the street, the kind where everyone knew your name. but little did the residents know that they would soon be rocked by a horrible crime.”

he stopped at a traffic light. the red glowed in the darkness, glinting off the wet street. a black suv sloshed by. across from him, eerie blue refrigerator lights glowed from inside a corner deli. the chairs all up on their tables, feet in the air. the signal turned to WALK.

“that chilly september evening was no different for the young student. he'd left his shift at the local store and walked back home, except he never made it home.”

young student. local store. damn, this was hitting close to home. he was a part-time student at seoul community college, and worked at the local convenience store. and, of course, he was walking home. he glanced behind him—looking at the alleyway behind the barbeque place, which was dark except for the neon light spilling from the sign.

“his girlfriend reported him missing the next day. the town conducted a volunteer-led search, and after two days, they found something.” dread formed in hiw stomach, anticipating “a body,” but what he heard next was so, so much worse.

“washed up on the shore of seokchon lake, they found a pair of size 9 red converse sneakers.”

he stopped. and looked down at my red converse sneakers, damp from the rain. what the hell? his heart began to pound.

“the shoes were sent to a forensic analyst, who would compare its wear pattern to another pair of his shoes to try and determine if they belonged to the victim.”

a rumbling sound made him jump. he turned, to see a dark suv turning left at the intersection. didn't he see that car a few minutes ago? maybe it was following him, and—

the car passed him and disappeared into the darkness.

come on, jimin. get a grip. converse were popular sneakers. a little out of fashion, but still. 9 was a common men's shoe size. and what college student didn't have some sort of a job? come on.

“after a few weeks, the results came back. the analyst was certain: the shoes belonged to none other than park jimin.”

the blood drained from his face.

park jimin.

his name.

he didn't have time to think. he forced himself to move. he broke into a run. the small shops turned into a colorful blur.

“searching the lake came up empty. without a body, a crime is hard to solve. but police didn't give up. and finally, a witness came forward: someone had seen a car parked at the lake that night, around 2 am. a black suv with tinted windows.”

he whipped around. the street was empty. no people, no cars. no witnesses, said the little voice in the back of his mind, the one that’s watched way too many true crime shows. his eyes scanned the shops. all closed.

“there were six black suv's matching the witness’s description in the area. but one of them, in particular, caught detective lee’s eye. it belonged to jo heemin, a registered sex offender.”

the sound was so soft he almost didn’t hear it over the voice of the podcast. he whipped around—and there it was. two blaring-white headlights behind him. coming from a black suv.

he forced his legs to pump faster. the car didn't speed up; it crawled along, slowly, taking its time. like the driver knew he could catch him, no matter what. he glanced back, trying to make him out behind the darkened windshield—but the headlights were too bright to see anything.

“he wasn’t just a registered sex offender. he’d been convicted of assaulting a men he worked with, who were on the skinnier side and had short, light hair, just like jimin.”

the car crawled down the road. stalking him, like a lioness stalked her prey. he veered left, onto his dark residential street. just a few more steps.

headlights flashed across him, illuminating my running shadow on the pavement. he didn't look back. he just ran, as fast as he possibly could. the little brown house with the yellow shutters came into view. he sprinted across the grass, grabbing his keys from his pocket. click. he threw the door open, and slammed it shut behind him.

then, he turned the deadbolt, collapsed against the door, and began crying. he heard the rush of the car passing his house, continuing down the road. but he wasn't safe—you weren't home yet. he was alone, in a dark house, with someone driving down the street who knew exactly where he lived. still sobbing, he checked all the locks. then, he called you, who assured him you were five minutes away.

he made his way down the dark hallway and headed into the bathroom. then, he set his phone on the counter, grabbed a clump of tissues, and began to blow his nose. click.

he jumped. whipped around.

but it wasn't coming from outside the door. his phone's screen lit up, the podcast was still playing. he must have hit it when he put the phone down. it had skipped several minutes forward, according to the play indicator.

“what do you think happened to jimin?” the baritone voice asked. he reached for it, to turn it off.

“well, he'd told me he wanted to run away before.” he stopped dead.

it was your voice. clear as day, coming from the speakers.

“he did? why?” the voice asked.

“he wasn't happy with his grades, his job, his parents. he told me sometimes he'd dream of just moving to some random country and leaving it all behind.”

he froze, staring at the mirror. he never said that. never. you—were lying?

“i mean, that was hurtful to me as his girlfriend, you know? i thought we were gonna get married someday. but apparently he didn't feel the same way.”

his heart pounded in his ears.

“so you think he just skipped town, and is happily living his life out somewhere else? rather than being abducted or murdered?”

a pause.

“yes. that’s exactly what i think.”

KIM TAEHYUNG (김태형)

it was as you were sitting alone, again, at night that you realized you needed to change something. this wasn't a life you wanted: children. but you loved taehyung and you knew know somin was his world, so you tried to accept it. you tried. she was cautious though and, despite your best efforts, you never bonded as taehyung hoped you would.

he popped his head out of somin's room after bedtime stories to tell you that she was feeling scared and he was going to stay with her until she fell asleep. you both knew he would fall asleep too, and you would eat dinner and go to bed alone again.

you decided to make a plan. and you knew it sounded awful, but you’d never agreed to living like this.

he'd be devasted. he'd miss her. but one day, he'd get over it and then you could live out the rest of your lives together and unburdened. you could travel. taehyung wouldn't have to work so hard to pay for her inhalers. it was the only path forward you could see. you would become enough for him.

you wouldn't kill her. you weren't a monster. all it would take was a phone call. you bought a burner phone and everything.

the following day, you added extra-strength cough syrup to somin's juice so she would sleep through any commotion. she said it tasted funny, but she was a good girl and drank it at your insistence.

when taehyung asked why she seemed off, you did my best to reassure him she was just tired. for a moment, you considered calling it off, but you could see the light at the end of the tunnel so clearly now.

after somin's bedtime, when taehyung left for a night shift, you arranged the drop at namsan park. at this hour, it should be empty.

you wrapped somin in her blanket and loaded her into the car. your mind kept replaying directions to namsan park, though you’d been there a hundred times.

you made it halfway down the farm’s driveway when a sound from the backseat made your stomach churn. in the rearview you saw somin, still asleep, but her breathing was labored. you forgot her inhaler.

the need wasn’t immediate but you couldn’t risk it. you left the car running and raced back inside. when you returned to the driver’s seat, the air felt different. an unease washed over you.

“where do you think you're going?” taehyung's voice, a chilling mix of rage and betrayal, came from the backseat. you froze as a shiver ran up your spine. the wire felt cold against your neck for a split second before taehyung pulled it tight.

as you felt your life slipping away, your mind drifted to somin's parents. like the rest of the world, you'd seen them on the news a lot over the last several months.

how long would they wait at namsan park?

they were so hopeful they'd see their little girl again.

JEON JUNGKOOK (전정국)

jungkook's wife went missing six months ago. you went out to work one day and never came home. it was a horrible shock to the whole neighbourhood, because things like that just didn't happen in your little slice of suburbia. the police launched an investigation, and the neighbourhood watch sent out search parties, but no one ever found any evidence to indicate what had happened to you. your families were devastated. recently, the missing posters have been taken down or papered over. the updates from the police became less frequent and dwindled away. jungkook accepted that, hard as it was to admit, you weren't coming back.

until you did.

a week ago, jungkook was in the back garden watering his petunias, when he heard the garden gate creak open. he jerked his head in that direction and, there you were. exactly the same as you were the day you disappeared. he was in shock. your families had mourned for you, and yet there you were, standing in your garden like you had just popped out for milk or something. when he asked where you had been, you said you didn't know. you couldn’t remember anything about the last six months.

all your family and friends are beside themselves with joy. they almost couldn't believe it. but that was the thing: he didn't believe it.

your families would never believe him, and he couldn’t go to the police unless he want to end up in a straightjacket. but he just knew that the woman sleeping next to him wasn't his wife. he didn't know what to do. he knew he should've been happy, but he wasn't. he was terrified. he didn’t know much about anything supernatural or paranormal, he didn't even like watching horror movies. but something about it all made his skin crawl.

the morning after you came home, he made you a cup of tea. when he handed it to him, you gave him the brightest smile. then, you took a sugar cube from the dish on the table and dropped it into the cup. your house was in chaos with your return, and jungkook was still in shock, so he didn't think much of it at the time, but it had been replaying in his mind ever since. he knew it didn't sound very significant, but you never put sugar in your tea.

then, it was the golf. a few days ago, when you was out visiting your mom, jungkook recorded a golf tournament that was showing. it was one of your favourite golfers that was competing, and you never missed it. once, you even skipped out on an anniversary dinner just to watch a championship. only, when you came home from your parents' and he told you what he'd done, you just seemed unbothered. you said thanks and everything, and then you asked if he wanted to get dinner. you didn't even watch it, and that was just out of character for you.

the final nail in the coffin, proverbially speaking, was jinyoung. just this morning, he came knocking on your door. his excuse was the tray of brownies he carried, but jungkook thought he just wanted to push his way into your morning so that he could see for herself what the situation was. after he left, jungkook called him a nosy busybody. you laughed, kissed his head, and agreed with him. that was when he knew for sure that it couldn't really be you. you always used to get mad whenever he insulted jinyoung, like he didn't have any right to hate him even though he'd been fucking his wife for years. but today there was none of that. he didn’t even try to defend her.

but you know why jungkook was dead certain that woman wasn't his wife? you didn't have a scar. if you were really her, you'd have a scar on the side of your forehead shaped like the golf club he hit you with. but there was nothing. not a mark. honestly, he was close to going out tonight and digging up his petunias, just to make sure you were still under there.

✧.*

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