The Face Behind the Window

A sound, like nails on a chalkboard, wakes up this poor soul.

The room, pitch black, except a sliver of moonlight that breaks through the heavy curtains.

The sound of a thumping heart is dull.

But listen closely, be no fool. You are not alone.

There! It comes again! The ear-splitting screech of nails on the window.

Oh what sharp nails they must be to make a noise so unearthly.

He gets up, this man, once his paralysis weakens its hold.

A branch from the tree scratching the window, he thinks. He hopes. He begs.

A shaky breath then he throws the curtains wide, wide open.

A face! A gnarled weather-beaten face looking right in!

So cruel and hideous with milky white eyes.

Blind, blind! But staring right at him.

The hag presses her long nose against the window and smiles.

The toothless grin of the devil himself.

Poor man who stands frozen with fear so great he fears his heart will burst.

It's thumping so loudly it hurts his chest and ears.

It might burst, it must burst! Anything to end this dreadful fear.

The window slides open, slowly creaking.

Twisted, wrinkled hands reach closer, closer yet.

Move sir, man, human, legs. Move!

Or die at least, he thinks with what little sanity he has left.

Her hand reaches in, so cold he could feel the sting of her freezing hands before it touches.

Then, the kiss of death, the stealthy touch on the cheek from a pointed fingernail.

A drop of blood and all sense of self lost in the dark.

He falls, dead before he hits the ground.

Dead from utter fear.

Author's Note

Inspired by Edgar Allen Poe and a horror story I once read