Winter Wonderland

Hello, and Happy New Year to All! New Year, Same Me, and just as dark and depressing, sorry if you were expecting something else. I saw the picture below and wrote something disturbing, about a woman out in the cold, knowing she can’t stop moving. It’s just as dark and creepy as it sounds… based on the photo provided by Jimmie.

Please note, starting next week I am doing biweekly posting for the microfiction and short stories. I will alternate weeks. More information to come Wednesday.


She squinted her eyes against the harsh glare of the winter sun, and it seemed wrong to her that it could be so bright and yet, so cold. The snap of a branch startled her into a gasp, that turned into a cough as the deep breath of frigid air burned it’s way into her lungs.

She turned, frantic, but there was no one in sight. She wasn’t being followed, yet. She couldn’t feel her feet anymore, and only the sound of the snow crunching beneath her with each step assured her that she was still moving forward.

She couldn’t say for certain how long she had been going, it felt like hours, and her running had long since slowed to a trudge. She couldn’t stop though, no matter how tired she was. If she stopped, even for a moment, she knew that she would never get going again.

If she was lucky, she would freeze to death, lying alone on a winding forest path. If she wasn’t lucky, he would find her, and she would only dream of getting such a sweet relief. Each new noise, sounding like pursuit, spiked adrenaline though her system and kept her moving. She went on hoping against hope that around the next bend, she would find someone to help her.

Finally, she saw a figure in the distance. Relieved, her legs gave out under her, and she was unconscious before her head hit the frozen earth.

Talisman

Okay, so this was written for the six sentence story prompt of charm, by girlontheedge. I am blaming this one on the fact I am reading The Stand by Stephen King right now, because its strange and a little twisted. It started off as a cute little idea, someone with a good luck charm, a rabbit’s foot, then it was the foot from a real rabbit, and then the guy carrying it got dark, and well, Happy New Year!


He walked into the house with a good luck charm in his pocket that you wouldn’t realize was the actual foot of a rabbit unless you got close enough to see the small rust colored stain on the fur where it was attached to the keychain like all the dollar store knock offs.

He was a superstitious man, even though his job relied far more on precision and skill than luck, but when you were raised by a woman like his grandmother, the superstition never quite left you, even when you knew it was foolish. 

He was a hard man, the type that in another time people would have accepted as a necessary evil, someone who got things done regardless of the costs, but in the here and now, his ruthless efficiency and cold demeanor scared most people when he let down his mask.  Even when it was up, it was like they could sense it, a lingering aura of death following him home in the case for his M82, which he carefully stowed in his attic until his next job.

When he was clean, and clothed, the charm back in his pocket,  he practiced in the mirror until the smile on his face no longer looked plastic, and then he picked up a different case and walked across the road, bracing himself for the noise within.

He stepped through the door, fifteen minutes before midnight, handing over the case of champagne with his apologies to the host, and sat surrounded by the unsuspecting sheep from his neighborhood, one hand in his pocket, fiddling with the rabbit’s foot to make sure he brought only good luck into the New Year.

Love You, Forever

So this one was a weird prompt, and I will talk about it more in the notes afterwards. Its from the point of view of a guy who is pining for a girl whom he is in love with. Its a little creepy and a little dark…


I knew from the moment I first saw her face that she was girl for me. She reminded me of my first crush, Barbara Eden, and in the little pink dress she was wearing the girl could have doubled for Jeannie.

I wanted to talk to her so badly, but I knew I wasn’t her type of fella. I was just Kevin, and she was perfect. I watched her, every single day until the end of the school year. She would walk across the bleachers with her friends and I would watch from the other side of the field. She didn’t even know I existed.

I was sad when she left for the summer, but when she returned the next autumn she had somehow, inexplicably, become even more beautiful than she had been before. I knew then, that this was it for me, I would have to talk to her.

I got brave, and more importantly, I got closer. I stopped lurking under the south bleachers where I felt my most comfortable, and I stepped into the light. I went into the school and started trying to catch sight of her between classes. Second semester I was lucky, she took art, and I knew art. It was my greatest passion, and when she stepped into that room, for the first time with no friends at her sides I knew it was fate.

I took the seat next to hers, and for the entire semester it was just her and me at the corner table. I told her everything about me, my life, and my family, and my darling girl, she was such a great listener. She never stopped me never said I was rambling, never scoffed, or judged. She just sat doing her art with an attentive ear. I know she didn’t share anything back with me, but if I were that beautiful, I would be private too. She wouldn’t want weirdo’s overhearing something about her personal life.

I am sure there were people, other guys even that wanted to be closer to her. How couldn’t they want to, she was amazing. I had never met anyone like her before, and I knew I never would again. It felt worse this time when she left for the summer, and when she returned to school in the autumn I knew that I had to take my chance or lose her forever.

She was bound for higher education, early admissions had already yielded her three letters and the closest was a six hour drive from here. Meanwhile I knew that this town was it for me, there would be no college, no fancy ivy league, and my darling girl was smart enough to never come back to this backwater nothing.

I started getting closer now, saying hello in the halls, and while she didn’t acknowledge me, I knew she heard. She gave the slightest movement when I spoke, turned her head just so. She played it off as a shudder, but I knew that she was acknowledging me, but she knew her friends wouldn’t approve. She needed better friends, friends that would want her to be happy, cared for, not those backstabbing bitches that she had.

I found her crying at the beginning of second semester, Darla, her so called best friend had stopped speaking to her. Something about my dear sweet Jeannie not letting her cheat on a math test. I was enraged at the thought of someone making my darling girl feel worthless because she was smart, and not willing to bend to that idiot’s pressure.

When I saw Darla standing there, alone, at the top of the staircase it was so easy. One little shove and all of my darling girl’s problems went away. With the loss of Darla the others, traitors all of them, returned over night and my girl was happy. I was torn, I loved seeing her happy, but hated the spent all her time with them instead of me.

I tried to talk to her again, but she rebuffed me, didn’t even look at me. As the year passed I grew angrier and angrier. How dare she ignore me, didn’t she know I loved her, didn’t she know I only wanted what was best for her? I tried again and again to make her acknowledge me, speak to me, but I got nothing in response.

There was only one thing I could do, to keep her here, to keep her with me forever, and I knew what to do. I waited until she was alone, one day staying late for one of her clubs, and when she went to leave I opened the door to the basement. My darling girl, always so curious went towards it. When she was in and down the stairs I opened another door, further in, one not many people knew about, and she walked towards it with that bounding curiosity. When she was in, I closed the door, locking it behind her.

She screamed at first, begged me to let her out, but I didn’t. I let the loose bolt by the furnace do its work, the carbon monoxide slowly making her more and more drowsy. It was a small leak, so small that it took hours to have any effect, which is why this had to happen at night, when there was no chance of anyone opening the door.

When she was pliant, I rattled the grate in the wall, that led to an old bit old ducting that went up under the bleachers. Once she was in, she didn’t notice the grate going back on behind her.

She got to a point where the duct turned, and it was blocked, and she didn’t have the energy to try and clear her path. With one hand on my thigh, she slowly drifted off, and I knew that she would stay there, in the duct with me, forever.


So the prompt was to write a story from the POV of a ghost. Tried to drop some hints, but let me know if I pulled it off. Thanks,

Shut Up and Dance!

So this one is a little dark ficlet that is related to the short story I posted last week, which I am going to link below. It’s about a guy who meets a girl at a club that seems way too good to be true. I know that seems to be a theme of mine, but I am really into the concept of listening to your instincts.


“Dance with me!” She screamed over the heavy techno beat and I couldn’t help but agree. We ground together on the dance floor and all the other people melted away. I felt her hand on the back of my neck and she pulled me even closer.

When the song transitioned to the next, I let her pull my through the throng of bodies to the bar. “To us!” She handed me a shot and I downed it, barely swallowing before her lips we on mine, and then her hands were feeling, reaching, everywhere, and I barely registered us moving towards the back door.

The cold air bit against my skin, my coat still at the check, but the hot lips on my neck distracted me from the chill. In the stark light of the streetlight behind the club she was no less beautiful, but far more real, and I couldn’t believe my luck as she pulled us towards an alley one hand undoing my belt, and then the button of my pants.

“I, this, kind of thing never happens to me” Smooth Rob, smooth.

“I don’t doubt that sugar.” She purred, and I froze, her red eyes glowing in the dim alley light, and her smile marked by too sharp teeth.

I tried to pull away, but she was to strong, and her teeth were buried in my neck. It didn’t hurt though, it almost felt good, actually, really good. A heat stirred within me, and even as I grew more and more light headed I couldn’t help by revel in the sensation.

Then I knew no more.