The Legend Of Zelda: Breath of the Dead

While I was walking around through the land of Hyrule, I noticed that there was a certain area of the game, not like any other area, it was further south-east than Faron Woods. So when I walked to that certain area, I fell through the floor into another area, but I was still falling. What happened in the next few minutes will forever haunt me.

I stopped falling, and I had 1/4 of a heart. But, when I kept on walking, I saw a statue of Link with Shadow Link, not as a statue, and I didn’t want any of it, so I reloaded my last save file.

When I did, the screen said “YOU CAN’T ESCAPE!” So at that point I closed out of the game and burned the game card, it was completely fine, but the game card said “Breath of the Dead” instead of “Breath of the Wild” so I was really freaking out, but something must’ve taken over my body, because I put the game card back in the Switch and started playing, when I hit Load Game, all the save files were named “?̸̩̽e̴͚͊n̶̲̭̉͆o̷̰̪̕͘d̵̛̹̉ ̴͍̅̊ë̵̪́v̴̗̿a̵̭̩̍͝h̵͔̔ ̷̱͉̽͊u̷̗̒́ô̷̠y̵̙͉̆ ̷͖̊t̴̡͇̔a̵̰̠͒h̷̨͒ẅ̷̞͍́ ̷̜̇̑w̵̲͉̆͛ŏ̶̝̞n̶̞̪̈́k̶̖̎͛ ̵͉͕̔̓ũ̸͕̣o̶͎̿͛y̵̞͆ ̴̱̪̾̆o̴̺̕D̷̤́͌” Which I loaded up the most current one.

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The Red Rum

It all started when this new bar opened up, let’s call it Nile’s Bar, but when I went in for the first time, which was 2 weeks after it opened, it wasn’t like any other bar I’ve been to, I felt a sense of uneasiness. I ignored that fact, because I thought that it was just because I wasn’t familiar to it.

A few minutes in, and I find that everyone is just passing out, or at least what I thought it was, but I decided to ask what the bartender had. He said that he had Vodka, Guinness, Red Wine, White Wine, Cocktails, White Rum, and Red Rum. Then he said that they had to up the price on the Red Rum, because everyone was buying it. I said that I would take a shot of Red Rum.

When I received it, it didn’t look like regular Red Rum, it was thicker and more opaque, but I drank it anyways, it tasted horrible, then I felt something slimy go into my mouth. I took it out, then what I found shook me, it was an eyeball.

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The thing at the window

I live in the North East of England, on a farm, miles from the nearest town/city. Usually, it is rather peaceful. The closest I had ever came to danger (before this event) was when a Fox started headbutting my front door. I wanted to let it in, but as soon as it saw me it bared it’s teeth. So I let it continue until it knocked itself out. Afterwards, I contained it and placed it away from my house, I didn’t want my Rottweiler (Remus) to suffer any damage, since he is really protective of me. That was my most dangerous/scariest encounter with an animal, until now…

Two weeks prior to this event, Remus’ behaviour started to become… strange. He usually lays atop of me when I’m in bed; however, he became restless. Every night, he began to patrol the house; never sleeping or stopping at his water bowl. I’d hear him growl every once in a while, but I just assumed it was either a Bird or Hedgehog that he would growling at. My house is quite large, with a lot of windows, except for my bedroom; I didn’t like the idea of someone potentially knowing when I was sleeping.

During the day, I began to notice that there were a lot less creatures about. The farm that I live on stops at the edge of a forest; so creatures like Deers and Badgers tend to come onto my land. I have no problems with this, since they don’t bother my Horses. About one week prior to this event, a Policeman came knocking at my door; a first time experience for me. He asked me if I had noticed anything abnormal, so I told him about the lack of animals; not thinking about Remus’ change in behaviour. After I told him this, he proceeded to tell me that the people who lived closest to me (about four miles away) had reported that all of their sheep had been slaughtered. After I heard this, I immediatey became concerned about my Horses. I thanked him for letting me know. Immediately, I moved the Horses’ stables closer to my house; if I saw anything, I could get out there. There was only one problem… you aren’t allowed guns in England! Meaning that if something were out there, I’d have to face it with either a small hatchet, or my fists. I prayed that I never recieved a visit from the thing that had killed all of those Sheep.

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The Porcelain Doll

It was a sunny fall afternoon in a small town in Maine, when a mother and her daughter were browsing a yard sale of a recently deceased elderly woman. The mother was focused on furniture and kitchenware, while the daughter was looking at the woman’s collection of figurines, dolls, and stuffed animals. Before long the little girl saw an item that appeared to glow. She walked over to it to get a better look.

It was an old looking porcelain doll. She had pale skin, piercing blue eyes, jet black hair, and a dainty baby blue dress. The little girl thought she was beautiful, and carefully picked her up. She walked over to her mother, who was looking at a china set. She asked her mother if she could have the doll, but her mother told her she couldn’t afford it.

Disappointed, the little girl gently put the doll back, but kept staring at it and admiring it until her mother pried her attention away. They continued to the next yard to look at what they had.

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The Thing in the Woods

It was a cold and cloudy day in October, two days before Halloween. There was a kid called Ben, who lived on the edge of the woods. One day, he was playing in his backyard with his dog, which was fairly large, and intimidating. Despite its size and looks, the dog was very sweet and never barked or growled at anything. Ben would play with his dog everyday, and never went into the woods unless he was with his dad.

This particular day, however, Ben heard footsteps in the woods, crunching loudly on the fallen leaves, and coming closer to the edge. It was already near sundown, so he couldn’t see very well into the trees. He squinted into the dark forest, trying to make out what was making the sound. It couldn’t have been an animal, he only heard two feet, and the animals never came toward the edge of the trees. Ben decided the footsteps he was hearing were from his father, and continued playing with the dog.

Suddenly, he heard his dad’s voice from the woods, calling him to come and help. As Ben walked closer to the trees, with his dog at his side, the voice started sounding off. It was his father’s voice, but it sounded corrupted, but he kept moving toward the voice anyway. His dog started growling, with her attention focused completely on the tree line. Ben patted the dog’s head, and continued walking towards his father’s voice. He called to his dad, asking what he needed help with, but got no response, except that of the voice continuing to call him toward the trees.

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The Abandoned Haunting

I woke up in a cold sweat, my sheets wear messily thrown onto the floor from a fitful sleep. The warm glow of the sun filtered into the room from the open curtained window across from my bed. A glance at the clock on my nightstand told me that it was only a few minutes past 6 AM. I sat up and rubbed the sleep from my eyes.

As I got dressed for the day, I remembered that today was the day I’d be visiting an abandoned house from the holocaust that had helped hide Jewish people from the nazis. My friend Steve had told me about how there was a large group of refugees staying in the attic and crawl spaces between the walls. According to records, when the nazis searched the house they found no one there, but they did find all the possessions of everyone that had been in the house. They found the diaries of children and food left out half eaten. As they read through the diaries, they were slightly amused to find that the children had been hearing strange noises around them, and seeing shadow people during the night. The children said that they were afraid the “monsters” would take them in the night. The soldiers took everything they found and reported the experience to their superiors. A few months after searching the house, every single soldier that had been there either died suddenly, or mysteriously disappeared.

I went downstairs, and was welcomed by the smell of freshly cooked bacon and eggs. I walked into the kitchen to find my girlfriend putting the food onto plates. As she set the plate down, I snuck up behind her and pulled her into a bear hug. She let out a small shriek, then turned around and hit me playfully in the arm. I gave her a quick kiss and grabbed a plate. I ate quickly so that I could meet Steve sooner and we could get on the road.

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Unused

I woke up in the box again. Stuffed inside the darkness, shoved against all the others. The only light came from the small opening near the top of the box, allowing a laser thin beam in a line covering the box’s entire lid like a safety net. I hate it in here, day after day, I have been waking up in the stupid unyielding box and you haven’t even had the decency to tell me why.

It wasn’t always like this though, was it? We use to have such good times. You would take me camping, or out to play in the backyard. I used to wake up snuggled tightly in your bed, the blankets wrapped warmly around us and you would keep me safe. I thought those blissful days would never end. I was happy.

Then, you started to change. I would awaken and I would be somewhere I didn’t recognize. Stranded in the kitchen or dumped off in a hallway. Sometimes, you even left me outside where I was scared and cold! I used to tell myself you were just busy, you had a lot to do. Unlike me, you had responsibilities – school and work and life. All I had to do was to make you happy. I always trusted you, I trusted that you would always come back to me.

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This Time Will Be Different

Hell found me again. All the fire, brimstone, pain, and hurt came flooding back as soon as the bony hand clamped itself on my wrist. Then I was back in the holding cave waiting for my turn to be tortured and humiliated. It was not the first time. I was not surprised. This was my hell, getting out was not hard, but for eternity I was to be hunted in a world I could never again be part of.

I could hide my rotten appearance for a while, tight gloves over bony fleshless hands, glasses over dead white eyes, loose baggy clothes, but it would not last. Eventually someone would see, and then the chase would be on. Every time they came for me, it was different. Sometimes they looked like me, caricatures of humanity, delicately blending in with people who cared too little to even notice. Other times they would appear as horrors even my imaginative mind could not comprehend.

They loved the chase, letting me think I was getting away, giving me a false sense of hope. Foolishly, I would hold onto it like a life raft. I would cling to the small feeling like a man drowning at sea reaching for anything to keep afloat, no matter how flimsy. I would grasp at the thin straws until the very last moment, the moment I always knew waited at the end of our little game. The end of the line. Then I would be struck down and sent back to hell where I was sentenced to burn with the rest of the suffering souls.
This time would be different, I know all of their tricks. Quietly I slipped out of the dark damp holding cave they threw me in. Stepping over the bloated and decaying bodies of the tortured, I ran as fast as I could through the demons playground. The cries and screams of the less fortunate followed loudly behind me as I tried to push them out of my mind. I climbed up the wall of the broken bodies that crumbled under the horrendous punishment. Trying not to gag as the wounds and gashes they suffered tried to mend under my weight, knowing only more pain and suffering awaited them when they could stand it. Near the top of the pile, I found the small fissure in the heated rock wall.

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Looking Back

Fog shrouded the island. Thick white haze, like a large wet blanket, was pulled over the entire chunk of land. He was not afraid, he knew he would eventually be back. Life had to go on, even if he did not. To him it seemed like years since he was on the island, but it did not matter. Time would not move without him, it waited for him to come back. Days, weeks, months, time would hold for as long as it had to. Like a worried father waiting up impatiently at the table for his little girl to come home from her first date. When he stepped back on the island, time would be there to greet him.

He lingered on the shore. Not sure how he arrived here, but not too shocked that he did. Just moments ago, he was twelve years old, getting his first kiss from a small older blonde girl named Melinda behind North High Middle School’s gym. They cut their fourth period class together and holed up in the cafeteria not caring about what they missed in class. Then the cafeteria was gone and he was at his high school graduation party at Disney land, the girl of his dreams was holding his hand and pulling him towards the line for the Doomsday drop. The fear came flooding back as he looked up and saw the current riders plunging quickly towards the ground, he didn’t want to ride but wasn’t willing to let go of her hand. Time seemed to fly by, he bounced from moment to moment. Times and places started to blur together faster than he could register them. He was there when he met his wife for the first time. She was watching a softball game he was playing in for a co-ed work league. He twisted his ankle and she brought him over some ice. He saw the look in her eyes as he struggled to find something to say that would make him seem interesting and nice. Instead, his mind drew a blank and he stuttered and sounded like an idiot, but she smiled anyway and he did not care.

Now he was here again, standing on the shore knowing he was supposed to follow the dirt path that cut its way through the tropical trees and made its way deeper into the heart of the island. He stayed back and watched his small boat come closer to the sandy shore from the much larger research vessel anchored in the sea close by. He saw himself, eyes wide with possibility, a smile of hope, and the sense that just around the corner could lay the discovery of a lifetime.

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Reflection

I saw the thing looking back at me from the mirror again today. I cannot explain what it is, and to anybody else it would look like a normal reflection. It looks just like me and acts exactly like a reflection should, but I know it is just trying to trick me. When I wave my arm, it waves. When I move, it copies me, it has my face and my eyes, but it is not my reflection, it is something else and I think it knows I know. Sometimes I can see a look in its eyes when I wake up in the morning. I look up with groggy eyes to see it staring back at me, staring at me with a look of somebody with a secret. It got to the point where I was even afraid to go near the mirror fearing that I might get too close, and be pulled right into that strange place reflections are born, and come face-to-face with the creature that wears my appearance as a disguise. The first time I noticed something was wrong was only a couple of days ago, but since then things have gotten progressively worse.

Like every other Monday, the grooving sound of the oldies woke me up at seven in the morning, about three hours or so earlier than when I would have liked to be woken up. I slowly and angrily smashed my fist down on the alarm until it shut off, and shuffled my way into the bathroom. If I had been awake I might have noticed the difference right away, but instead of looking anywhere else, all my attention was focused on making a beeline to the shower. Knowing I had to be at work at eight, I quickly rinsed off then hopped back out, a little more alive and alert than when I started. Still moving quickly to make up time, I Started up the easy auto-routine I had for shaving. I lathered up, started running the water and prepared to get down to business. Just as I was finishing up, I noticed it. I was looking into the mirror, all closed eyed and half-asleep, and my reflection was looking right back at me, eyes wide open and grinning.

Now I know that it is almost impossible to have a grin on my face that wide, on a Monday morning. This was not a normal grin either. It wasn’t the “I’m happy,” or the, “I just heard something funny,” kind of grin. This was the kind of grin you see on someone’s face right before they pull your chair out from under you, or make you sit on a whoopee cushion. It was the grin of someone who was about to pull the mother of all pranks, and only he is in on the joke. A grin that says, “It’s ok that you know, because there is no way you can stop it.” The look my reflection gave me unnerved me so badly that I left the bathroom without finishing shaving, and hurried out of the house with shaving cream splotches still coating my wet face.

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