Primordialis

A man looks to kill something lurking in a warehouse. Horror isn't really my thing, I just started writing this spontaneously.

He threw open the chest with a shout, and plunged the knife downward. His anxiety and fear turned into a kind of frustrated disappointment, as an audible thud rewarded him for his effort- the chest was empty. 

His eyes darted around quickly, scanning the dimly lit warehouse, his breathing rapid and shallow. His right hand gripping the knife, with which he had impaled the chest’s wooden interior.  

Where did it go? He thought- no, he knew- he had heard sounds coming from inside the chest. How could it be empty? And if it’s not in the chest, where did it get to? 

He suddenly gagged as his breaths deepened and grew slower; a foul stench rose from the inside of the chest. He held his breath to keep from vomiting and tugged at the knife. It was stuck.

He gave the knife a firm yank, but it remained stuck. He yanked it a second time, with the same result. 

His heart was starting to hammer in his chest from a combination of holding his breath and exerting himself. He exhaled as he let go of the knife handle, and moved back from the chest. He then inhaled the foul air very slowly, and looked around once again. The smell didn’t make him retch, but it was still bad. 

He took a quick look around. Still nothing. 

He reached his right hand into the chest and took the knife handle. He then leaned his left hand on the edge of the chest, and pulled on the knife using all of his bodyweight. With a faint pop the knife was pulled free from the wood, and he stumbled backward slightly. He recovered his balance quickly, but he bumped into something.

He knew it could only be the hot dampness of its breath that he was feeling on the back of his neck, and turned quickly while raising the knife. Instinct drew every sinew and muscle in his body taut almost instantly, but it seemed to drain out of him just as quickly when he looked into its eyes: two bloodshot orbs that seemed to glow with inhuman, primordial fury. 

Author's Note

This is about 60 words over what would be considered flash fiction, but I say it's close enough. Another piece that started with the app iDeas for Writing. The first sentence was what it gave me and I went from there. I was inspired by the Stephen King story "The Crate," which was featured in the movie Creepshow.

Reviews

[Eric]

I’m playing around with adding suspense and taking out some words that aren’t needed. I worked on this in Word. I'm sorry the highlights do not show up.

His eyes darted around quickly, scanning the dimly lit warehouse, his breathing rapid and shallow. His right hand gripping the knife

He held the blade out in front of him waving it back and forth like a flashlight, as he searched the ancient ruins. At last he felt more than saw the object he was looking for. He took a long steadying breath and two quick steps:

He threw open the chest with a shout, and plunged the knife downward. His anxiety and fear turned into frustration, as an audible thud rewarded him for his effort- the chest was empty.

‘the audible thud rewarded him for his effort’ – I wanted to try some alternatives:

He plunged the knife down into the darkness hard and fast. There was no resistance, no body, creature or corpse to catch the blade. The knife continued down striking hard against the bottom.
The thud echoed dull and empty down the vacant halls; eventually fading until there was nothing but silence and frustration.

Alternatively:

A normal size man six feet tall 200 lbs using momentum and body weight can do considerable damage with a six inch steel blade. Jake however was no normal size man. He towered over the chest at a whopping 6’8 280 lbs and it was all muscle. The strength and adrenalin behind such a blow was enough to decapitate a man had there been one available. Instead Jakes blow did nothing more than crash against the bottom of an empty chest.

‘audible thud as he slashed frantically and hit nothing but the bottom of the chest.’

(extra words like ‘a kind of frustrated disappointment’ instead try ‘frustration’

Extra descriptors distract from the reader being ‘in the story’- any list such as his anxiety, fear and trepidation turned to frustration…better is to pick one: his fear turned to frustration….)


Depending on the pace and intensity you want this next part can become more immediate with ‘Where is it instead of where did it go –

Where did it go? He thought- no, he knew- he had heard sounds coming from inside the chest. How could it be empty? And if it’s not in the chest, where did it get to? Redundant, I would show this with his actions and fear looking around.

He suddenly (I try to avoid words like ‘suddenly’) gagged as his breaths deepened and grew slower; (I prefer starting with this “A foul stench rose from the inside of the chest. He held his breath to keep from vomiting and tugged at the knife. It was stuck.

He gave the knife a firm yank, but it remained stuck. He yanked it a second time, with the same result.

His heart was starting to hammer (can add suspense with the hairs on the back of his neck and the sense of a presence behind him) in his chest from a combination (don’t need the extra words) holding his breath and exerting himself. (Might replace both with ‘adrenalin) He exhaled as he let go of the knife handle, and moved back from the chest. He then inhaled the foul air very (use descriptors instead of ‘very’) slowly, and looked around once again. The smell didn’t make him retch, but it was still bad. (You’ve a formality in your writing that I see in mine using phrases like ‘He then inhaled’ instead of using what I call accessible or common language like ‘He breathed in the foul air. It was still rotten but he was able to avoid retching by taking long slow breaths’ I think the change feels more like talking to a real person rather than a professor reflecting on his experience.

He took a quick look around. Still nothing. (feels like a lost opportunity – you could add tension with ‘frantically or his eyes darted around…. something to compliment the mood and scene…’just looking’ feels neutral

He reached his right hand into the chest and took the knife handle. He then leaned his left hand on the edge of the chest, and pulled on the knife using all of his body-weight. With a faint pop the knife was pulled free. from the wood, and He stumbled backward, quickly adjusting his feet He recovered his balance, but not before he felt the change in the air. It was behind him, he'd nearly bumped into it.

He knew it was here now. He felt the hot dampness of its breath – (instead of theory make it a real experience) ran hot, moist and sick against his neck (Use short quick sentences here to add to the pace and tension) He turned quickly, raising the knife. Instinct drew every sinew and muscle in his body. He was taut like a coiled spring, ready to strike but the fury (avoid words like ‘seemed’) drained out of him when he looked into its eyes: two bloodshot orbs that glowed with inhuman, primordial fury.

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