LPfiction

Category Linkin Park

On the Other Side by A.N.

Prologue: Brooding

Author Notes: This story is inspired by various lyrics from the Post Traumatic album, along with much of the artwork Mike made for the art book.


I haven't written a horror story in a long time. This is a re-write of an old story I used to have on here, which I abandoned because I wasn't happy with the plot. I'm much more satisfied with my ideas for this new version.


This takes place while Mike is writing Post Traumatic. Despite that, and the obvious sadness that will come with it, I want all you to be able to enjoy reading this. I'm meaning for this to start in a dark place, and like the album, evolve into something very different from that.


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Mike rolled over in bed, the soft white sheet and thin comforter tangled around his legs. Still half asleep, he swished his feet around until they were free of the covers. He tucked his feet in, like he wanted to hide them from the outside world, as if everyone was peeking in his windows at that moment.


His head was throbbing, not a headache but that feeling he'd get after sleeping too much. It was like his brain and eyes were pushing against his skull and eyelids. He was convinced they were about to crash through and spill all over the bed. Maybe that would be a good thing. Maybe. It would certainly give him some relief.


Almost fully awake now, he groaned lightly, and pulled the covers above his head. He wanted to fall back asleep as quickly as possible. He could faintly hear Anna fumbling around in the kitchen downstairs, and the kids talking to her. He wanted nothing to do with anything they were doing. He didn't care what time it was, whether or not they were making him some food, or about anything, really. He just wanted to sleep. To disappear.


Three days.


It had been three days and he could still hear Joe's voice over the phone as he started shrieking frantically before he'd even said hello. Now, days later, it was like it had just happened, and Joe's voice kept getting louder and louder and louder.


He wanted it all to just go away. Slowly, tears formed. They burned the corners of his eyes. He squeezed his eyelids tight together and wiped them on the blanket. He sniffled a little, then forced himself to settle into the mattress. He pushed Joe's shrieks out of his mind, and it was hard to do. He tried to let his mind wander, to just go on a journey of randomness where the reality of what happened didn't exist anymore.


And somewhere along that journey, he fell asleep.


Thick, wild shrieks and screams pierced through the darkness. The rush of fear was so intense as the screams overlapped each other and increased in volume. Their tone turned deeper, meaner, as if they were demanding something that could not be given. Not yet, at least.


Mike bolted up in bed, his chest heaving as he tried to suck in air as fast as he could. He grasped at his throat and coughed, then heaved more, which made Anna wake up.


She noticed he was sitting up and breathing harshly. "Honey?" She asked, then sat up too and turned on the lamp on her night stand.


The flood of light didn't seem to bring Mike out of the fearful state he was in. Anna reached out and put an arm around his back. He was so deeply immersed in what had happened to him that he shouted, thrashed, and found himself falling backward over the edge of the bed.


His back landed on the hard wood floor with a heavy thump. Anna crawled across the bed to get to him, but the look in his eyes made her stop herself from approaching any further. His pupils were dilated and his eyes wide, skin slightly pale, as if he had seen something he didn't want to see.

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