A frightful Storm

A frightful Storm

A Story by M.a. Benjamin
"

This is a short story affiliated with a book I'm writing. Hope it is well received.

"

The 8:15 bus to Trumbull roared away from the station, creating a small frozen monsoon of watery slush that swallowed up the sidewalk.   It may as well have been a boat with the amount of rain and sleet that had hammered the small town for the past few days.  As far as winters were concerned, this one had been pretty bad.  As if by more than coincidence, the local news itself was bad as well.  Reports on television spoke of people getting very sick in the area.  Not bedridden sick however.  Subjects diagnosed became crazy and violent, and the news warned that although incidents were few and far between, people should “Steer clear of anyone acting overly strange.”

  The young woman had been away from home and husband since the storm’s start; the first day of meetings had been rescheduled due to flight delays incurred by out-of-towners, and prolonged a day due to the inability of any from of transportation to safely travel long distances.  She was tired and homesick.  All the Connecticut native could think to do was collapse into bed next to her pungent, house sauce smelling chef of a significant other, who was more than likely covered in a thin but visible layer of sweat and grease he had collected from work.  Normally she yelled at him for being in bed unwashed, but tonight she would sacrifice her husband’s hygiene for sleep.  She felt herself drifting to a sub conscious state, snapping out of it only slightly with every heavy bump and brief stop.

 By the end of the three-hour trip the downpour was nearly blinding.  The doors of the public bus opened and the young woman darted for cover under the stop’s overhang to find her umbrella.  After a brief but meticulous search, it was excavated from her shoulder bag, and she braced herself for the waterlogged gauntlet that was to be her brisk walk home.  The violent storm was bad enough that there was no reason to run. She’d be consumed in a matter of moments anyway.  She took a deep breath, opened the umbrella, and pushed through the frozen sheets of ice and rain.

 

 

“It’s unusual for all the lights to be off.”  She thought to herself as she trudged up the driveway and past her husband’s car.  As she drew closer to the front door, she slowed.  “What was that sound?”  It was the sound of a loud crash from inside, like a vehicle driving through a brittle wooden wall.  She stood in the rain, already soaked entirely, and waited.  Silence.  After some hesitation she walked up to the front door and slowly twisted the handle. “Had someone broken into our house?” The thought raced in circles around her mind as panic took a firm hold of her.  She turned the doorknob.  It was unlocked.

The entire house had been turned upside down; furniture, papers, and clothing strewn about as if a series of small tornados had passed through.  Where was her husband?  Was he still here or had something bad happened?  From off within the bathroom came a loud crash.  If there was an intruder, then they were still inside, judging by the violent ruckus from down the hall.  She moved in deeper, towards the only light in the entire house.  She could hear a voice muttering something indiscernible.  It was a man’s voice, choked up with tears.  It was her husband’s.  “Honey?” she braved as she drew closer.  The mumbling stopped.  Not a sound emitted from within the bathroom.  As if the entire porcelain tiled room had been put on mute.  As she peered inside she saw him kneeling in a heap of bloody mirror shards on the floor, staring directly at her.  His eyes no longer had any color: they were filled with an unending blackness, like staring down two deep, lonely wells leading to oblivion.

Her voice went silent with terror, and all she could do was stare back.  His body was cut, bloody and battered, as if he had gotten into a terrible fight.  The blood that stained his greasy white shirt was not red however.  It was black.  A venomous corrosive smell was in the air, and it devoured her sense of smell like a swarm of carnivorous insects.  “W-what happened?” The woman finally forced out through the hand shielding her face as her husband stood up, never blinking, eyes fixed into hers.  His face began to distort with a mixture of rage and aggravation, and he let out a screeching howl as he began to claw at his face and ears.  The young woman’s face was a tempest of stress: pale, and drenched in cold sweat as she forced heavy breaths from her lungs and out her partially opened thin lips.  Her entire body rattled with terror like a frightened maraca.

She began moving back into the darkness.  He pursued.  She turned and ran for the bedroom, slamming and locking the door behind her.  The thing that was once her husband threw all of its weight against the door; clawing, kicking and punching as it shrieked in a terrifying tone, nearly taking the door off its hinges with every violent assault.  The woman sat against the door, horrified tears streaming down her face. She could feel fingers scraping at the rug from under the door frantically right behind her.  It was as violent as the storm outside.  The bloodied fingers grabbed the bottom portion of the door and began to rip off chunks of the thick wood in handfuls.  It was bad enough that there was no reason to run. She’d be consumed in a matter of moments.

© 2010 M.a. Benjamin


My Review

Would you like to review this Story?
Login | Register




Reviews

Okay, that was just pure terror. I do not normally succumb to attempts at writing terror but this was seriously well executed. If you can carry this further, you might have quite a work of fiction here. It IS fiction ... r-right? [Gulp]

Posted 14 Years Ago



2
next Next Page
last Last Page
Share This
Email
Facebook
Twitter
Request Read Request
Add to Library My Library
Subscribe Subscribe


Stats

812 Views
11 Reviews
Rating
Added on April 10, 2010
Last Updated on August 20, 2010

Author

M.a. Benjamin
M.a. Benjamin

NY



About
I write sometimes more..

Writing
Exit Exit

A Poem by M.a. Benjamin



Related Writing

People who liked this story also liked..


One Each One Each

A Poem by Jenny Davis