Hello, my name is Cyan and I want to write horror because I live and breathe it. Horror is a part of everyday life, the real horror is the people who fail to see it.

-Wishmaster would be a classic horror story using the genie cliche

A barefoot worn down middle-aged woman stands in the center of a luxury room. Her dirt-encrusted feet stroke the pelt carpet as she smiles, exposing a set of grotesque decaying teeth. With wonder in her eyes, she survey's the room, amazed by its elegance. Her gaze fixates from the walls with such vibrant colors to the Victorian-style bed situated in front of her, she pauses briefly before settling on its plush surface. She lays back and closes her eyes, oblivious to the chandelier swaying above her.

The sound of a shower running echoed from the adjacent bathroom, prompting her to sit up abruptly. She franticly searches her pocket, producing a small package wrapped in aluminum foil. With the flicker of a lighter, she unleashes a sinister substance into the air. As the smoke curls around her, she inhales deeply letting her eyes roll back in ecstasy.

A voice calls out "COME TO ME". Mesmerized, she follows until she stands before the wall, its rich colors begin swirling in an ominous dance. The voice, an insidious whisper, repeats in a haunting command, "COME TO ME, BE WITH ME." A tear falls down her face as the voice continues. " BE WITH ME, BE WITH US". She extends a hand towards the wall, her fingertips reaching out, grazing the surface, only to be caught like a moth in a spider's web.

The wallpaper now a living entity, greedily devours her flesh with each futile attempt to break free. The wall's grip tightens as multiple faces and arms reach out ensnaring her face in its gruesome hold. As her skin tears, blood cascades down her face. A futile gurgle escapes her throat as the room becomes a canvas of horror.

The bathroom door swings open, revealing a short, heavyset man with patches of hair. He stands frozen, horrified by the nightmarish scene before him. Panic sets in as he attempts to escape, only to find the door handle unyielding. Desperation claws at him as he witnesses the wall oozing blood and moaning as it consumes the woman.

In a frantic bid for survival, he breaks the door, kicking his way out. Something unseen grabs hold of him. Clinging to the door frame, he screams as an unseen force jerks him violently. Blood fills his mouth and eyes, as his fingers desperately grip the door hinges until an inevitable snap echoes through the room.

His legs fold backward toward his head as he's violently snatched away, leaving behind only his fingers, still clinging to the door. One by one, they're mercilessly taken.

The door slams shut, the room now revealing its old decrepit state as it slowly fills with darkness.

Next: The house calls to its next victims, luring them to see its beauty while the rest of the world remains blind to its presence and the people who become a part of it.

Cyan Moya

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