City of Rust

I’m not sure how it happened, but I ended up in Rustfield. I never chose to come here; I didn’t even know it existed until my dad got a new job and dragged us halfway across the country. “It’s just a small town,” he said with that usual excitement that made my stomach churn. “You’ll love it.” 

Love it? There was nothing to love about Rustfield. It felt like the world had forgotten this place—old cars sat on overgrown lawns, their paint peeling like old wallpaper, and every street was lined with rusted metal scraps that crunched under my sneakers like brittle bones. 

I spent the first few days sulking in my room, the sound of my parents’ incessant chatter fading into the background. It was in that half-hearted state of boredom that I discovered the abandoned factory on the edge of town. Rustfield Metalworks, they called it. 

It was huge. The kind of place you see in horror movies, with broken windows and crumbling walls. I should have turned back, but the pull was too strong. I thought of all the kids who’d dare each other to explore this creepy building, and suddenly I was one of them, a thrill rushing through my veins like electricity.

I slipped through a gap in the fence and stepped inside. The air was thick and musty, and the shadows danced as sunlight filtered through the shattered glass above. My heart pounded with a mix of fear and excitement as I ventured deeper into the darkness. 

The first thing I noticed was the strange smell—like burnt metal and something else I couldn’t quite place. I wandered through the debris, old machines that looked like giant rusted insects, and piles of scrap metal that towered like grotesque sculptures. It was in that maze of twisted metal that I stumbled upon something that sent shivers down my spine. 

A door..

It was a simple, weathered thing, but something about it felt wrong. The air around it buzzed, almost as if the door itself was alive. I hesitated, glancing back the way I came. But curiosity got the better of me. I reached out, gripping the handle, and pulled.

The door swung open with a groan that echoed through the factory, revealing a narrow staircase descending into darkness. I hesitated, but my mind raced with thoughts of adventure, of discoveries no one else would make. With a deep breath, I stepped inside.

The stairs creaked under my weight, and the air grew colder. At the bottom, I found myself in a dimly lit room filled with strange machinery that hummed ominously. Rusty pipes twisted around the walls like veins, pulsating with an unsettling energy. 

In the center of the room stood a large metal contraption, covered in gauges and levers that looked as if they hadn’t been touched in decades. But the most disturbing sight was the large glass chamber next to it. Inside, I could see what looked like a creature, curled up and dormant, its surface a mass of shiny black and deep crimson. 

I moved closer, a mix of fascination and dread curling in my stomach. The creature seemed to be sleeping—or maybe it was dead. But as I pressed my face against the glass, I noticed something strange. Its surface flickered, almost like a TV screen going haywire, and I could have sworn I saw faces shifting within it—twisted expressions of fear, anguish, and despair. 

I staggered back, panic rising in my throat. What was this thing? Was it some kind of monster? 

Suddenly, the machinery around me began to hum louder, vibrating beneath my feet. I turned to flee, but the door I had entered through slammed shut, trapping me in the chamber. I pounded on it, my heart racing as the creature inside the glass began to stir. 

With a sickening slowness, it unfolded itself, its form growing larger and more grotesque. It was a mass of writhing tendrils and glistening skin that seemed to absorb the light around it. I backed away, desperate to escape, when I noticed something peculiar—each tendril was tipped with what looked like a metallic claw, jagged and sharp.

The room darkened, the humming deepening into a roar, and I felt a cold sweat bead on my forehead. Just as I turned to try the door again, I heard a voice—a whisper that seemed to echo from the depths of my own mind. “Help us… release us…”

I froze. What did it mean? I wasn’t a hero. I was just a kid! I grabbed a nearby lever, feeling the cold metal against my skin. Should I pull it? What if I unleashed something terrible? But I couldn’t just stand there while whatever that thing was continued to wake up.

With trembling hands, I yanked the lever down. The machinery shook violently, and the glass chamber began to crack, shards flying through the air like tiny daggers. The creature roared, a sound that seemed to reverberate in my bones, and I felt the air grow heavy with dread.

But then, something incredible happened. The creature shimmered, and I could see the faces within it more clearly. They were familiar—kids from school, people I recognized but had never spoken to. I gasped, my heart pounding. 

They were trapped! Somehow, this creature was feeding on their fear, using them to sustain itself. I could see their mouths moving, their eyes wide with terror, and then the realization hit me like a thunderbolt. 

I was next.  

The creature lunged toward me, its tendrils reaching out, but I managed to slip through a gap in the door just as it burst open. I sprinted up the stairs, the roar of the creature echoing behind me. I stumbled through the factory, my heart racing, barely stopping to breathe. 

When I finally burst outside, gasping for air, the sun felt like a blessing. I looked back at the factory, feeling a strange mix of relief and horror. I was free, but those faces would haunt me forever. 

I had to tell someone, warn them. But as I made my way home, something felt off. The streets were eerily quiet, the rusted cars seemed to watch me with hollow eyes. I hurried past the playground, where children had once laughed, only to find it deserted. 

I reached my house and rushed inside, my heart still racing. But when I found my parents, I froze. They sat on the couch, staring blankly ahead, their mouths moving in silent screams. 

The shadows around them twisted and writhed, and then I saw it—a flicker in the air, the same shimmer I had seen in the glass chamber. 

And suddenly, I understood. I hadn’t escaped Rustfield. I had become part of it, a new resident in a town where the rust didn’t just creep through metal—it slithered through flesh.