Nos Sumus in Tenebris

This week’s six-sentence story prompt by girlontheege was EDGE. I wrote about a woman walking home after dark, with the feeling she is being followed. Or alternative summary “you aren’t afraid of being alone in the dark, you are afraid of not being alone in the dark.”


She wasn’t a paranoid person, and she couldn’t explain it, but tonight as she walked down the empty street towards her house she knew without a shadow of a doubt that she was not alone.

She stopped and started a few times, took a few detours, picked up her pace, but every time she surveyed the area she could see that there was no one else around.

She could feel them through, the eyes watching her, making the hair on the back of her neck stand up as every primal instinct told her that she was being hunted.

The area was residential, all the house lights off, and she had moved from a speed walk to a run when she she finally heard something scraping behind her, followed by a growl that reverberated down her spine as she was paralyzed by fear.

Then it was in front of her with the dim light of the street lamp glinting off the razor sharp edge of the teeth that were about to end her life and she had one final thought.

You aren’t paranoid if they are actually out to get you.


For those wondering about the title, we are in the dark nos sumus in tenebris

The Perfectionist

I have to start with May the 4th be with you! This week’s six sentence story prompt by girlontheedge was CONTROL, and it got weird. What started with a perfectionist researcher being interrupted turned a little strange, and well it’s up to you if you want to interpret this as horror/fantasy or take it as a metaphor.


The sounds of Bach’s Cello Suite No 1 came from a waterproof speaker mounted high in the corner of the lab, the only deviation in an otherwise textbook set-up.

The lab equipment was all stored as precisely as if it were a demo rather than a working lab, and the few samples being worked on were set up on an immaculate bench top, all labelled with perfectly legible capital letters, all spaced exactly one inch apart.

The scientist working on them also appeared picture ready, with nary a hair out of place as she methodically reviewed her data, making notations in her lab book with a precise print that almost looked typed, and only when she was sure that every detail had been captured did she move onto the next step in her procedure.

Then HE stepped into the lab, him in his open toed shoes, stopping the music, waving his hands as if he wasn’t surrounded by fragile equipment, and all hell broke loose when he finally made contact, her sense of control shattering along with the glassware.

She turned, snarling, her hair bursting from it’s tie as the strands turned to snakes ready to devour their prey, claws escaping through the tips of her gloves, and he barely had a chance to widen his eyes in horror before it was all over.

Three hours later the lab was back to it’s impeccable state, Bach’s Cello Suite No 1 drifted from the recently sterilised speaker as she stepped inside, freshly showered in a new lab-coat and gloves, she was ready to resume her work without interruption, and the only attention she gave to the now bulging biohazard bag was a note in her lab book to have it scheduled for removal when she was finished for the day.


Side note, going forward theses are moving to Wednesday’s and the Short Stories will be moving to Friday’s.

And the Whole World Goes Blind

Another story of revenge, and I promise that no, I am not out to get anyone. This one is response to girlontheedge’s six-sentence story prompt MATCH. If you have been paying attention the last few weeks there might be something a little familiar about this one… Also quick reminder to everyone who writes, today is the first day of Camp Nanowrimo, where you can set your own goals!


He threw the match, eyes lighting as it caught, the flames pushing back the darkness of the night. He moved away quickly, he knew he couldn’t be discovered here, but he couldn’t resist turning back a few times to bear witness to his triumph.

The accelerant did it’s job well, the house was encircled in moments, there was no way out, and it had gone up so fast there was no chance that the fire department would get there in time to stop it.

He went home, sleeping peacefully through the night for the first time in years, and when he woke, he pulled out the worn picture of the brother who had died far too young, finally able to face him, knowing that she would never hurt another like she had hurt him.

He flicked on the TV, gleeful as he heard the headline: Tragedy has struck today, as a local woman was killed when her house was burned to the ground in an apparent arson.

The news anchor continued to report as they cut over to footage of the wreckage, zooming in on where the house had been reduced to ashes, and the only thing that seemed to be untouched by the fire, was a large antique cooking pot, it’s condition only marred by hashed carvings on it’s surface.


If you have read my last two weeks of these, you probably have just realized whose house that was. Sorry that she didn’t get that redemption arc, but sometimes when you play with fire, you get burned….And so the cycle continues.

Vindicta

This incredibly dark little monster was inspired by the six sentence word prompt ingredient by girlontheedge. I immediately went to potion, but I don’t know when it went from potion to this little fic of revenge that is disturbing even to me….


The thorns dug into the soft flesh of her palm as she squeezed the stem of the rose, the final ingredient, a little too hard as she tried to decide if she was really going to do this.

It was overkill on her part, and she knew it, but the memory of his face as he mocked her in front of the crowd of onlookers, pretending as if their relationship had meant nothing to him, that she was just another notch in his bed post, it still made her blood boil.

She tossed the rose into the cauldron, regretting it even as she let it go, but it was too late now, the potion was made, and a small smirk crossed her face as the rising vapour turned to a thick cloud, forming shapes, sharp teeth and claws in the shadows before they skittered out the window.

There was no use in regret, it would change nothing, and James had made his bed, that bright sunny afternoon in the quad when he called her a-, well, he was not undeserving in this.

It wasn’t her fault, as she had learned far too late that with James, even saying no wouldn’t have stopped him, and if what the others had said was true, he was far worse when you didn’t go along with him.

She was pulled from her musings by the sounds of sirens, red lights flashing into the otherwise dark room, and she knew it was over, she wasn’t his first, but she had made sure, she would be his last.