Disobeying Curfew

A short story, written for a contest. A horrific twist of "curiosity killed the cat."

The bleak darkness of night settled upon me like a heavy blanket. Dust motes swirled in the single beam of moonlight filtering through the boards on the window. I rolled over in my bed and pulled the blankets over my head; trying to find sleep once more. I'm not sure what it was that had awoken me in the first place. Maybe it was the cold. Maybe it was the emptiness in the room. I couldn't really say.

Sleep continued to elude me, even as tired as I was. I tossed and turned, seeking some semblance of comfort, but finding none. Then I heard it - the soft whisper of voices. It sounded through the vents. It was unusual for anyone to be up this late, especially considering that it was strictly against the rules.

I couldn't make out any real words, and curiosity got the best of me. I kicked off my thin blanket, stepped onto the icy hardwood floor. I padded gently to the door, keeping as quiet as possible. I did not want to face the repercussions of getting caught out of bed after curfew again.

I reached the door and gently turned the brass handle. I opened the door only enough for me to squeeze my thin, frail body through. It creaked - ever so slightly - and I froze, listening. I could hear the conversation more clearly now. It seemed no one had heard me leaving my confinement. I squeezed myself through the rest of the opening and tip-toed down the hall. The voices were coming from behind the locked door - the door we were never allowed through.

I could make out the conversation now. I felt the blood rush from my face. What I heard flabbergasted me.

"She's the last child. We need to find more." It was the Warden talking. He sounded almost worried - scared even. I have never heard him sound anything other than angry and irritated.

"We will find more. I can assure you of that." I did not recognize the second voice, though it was female. She spoke again. "In the meantime, we are running low on food again. Tomorrow, you will throw the girl in the incinerator, and I will go hunt. I doubt the girl will feed us well. She is far too thin."

My blood ran cold. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "Yes, Madam." The Warden replied.

Is that where all the other children had gone? Had they been... eaten?

I was so terrified, I couldn't move. I couldn't even move when I heard footsteps approaching the door. I needed to run. I needed to flee back to my room and hide until I could find a way out of this place, but my feet wouldn't budge.

The door opened, and I met face to face with a fearsome woman. She was rather short, but her gleaming eyes held a darkness in them that I had never seen - not even in the Warden - and I was terrified. She gave me a smile that a cat would give a mouse, and said, "Well, what do we have here?"

I saw then, the elongated teeth, the sharp talons at her hands, the half eaten remains of a body burnt to a crisp on the table behind her.

I turned to run, but the moment I turned around, she was standing before me again. "It seems we won't be waiting until morning to enjoy our next feast, dear Warden."

A scream ripped up my throat, but was cut off by a strange gurgling sound I did not recognize. Warm liquid dripped down my chest. I knew it then, as the fearsome woman brought up a blood-dripped talon to her lips and suckled at my sweet life. She had slit my throat - quicker than I could see, before I could even scream.

I fell to my knees, holding my throat and gasping for air. She laughed, as the metallic tang of blood filled my mouth. I could hear my heartbeat thumping through my body - slower and slower.

"Take her to the incinerator, Warden. And clean up this mess." I collapsed to the ground, still clutching my throat, still clinging to life. But I was so cold now. My eyes were so heavy, I just wanted to close them.

The warden stepped up to my dying, blood-soaked body. My vision was blurring, the world darkening and out of focus. My lungs burned as they filled with blood. He came closer, his breath upon my lips. "If only you had just stayed in bed."

I heard him laugh as my eyes closed - unable to keep them open any longer. My muscles weakened, and I released the hold on my neck. The last thing I felt was my blood crawling further down my body, before I knew the sweet release of death.

Reviews

[Jacob Clifford]

Sick. Wonderfully sick. I like how even though this story has dark themes, you don't dwell on them. Many people do so, and it just distracts from the narrative. But you've stuck a good balance of description and progression.

[Melissa Kester]

Thank you :)