Alone in the dark

Fantasy/horror. A short story outlining the supernatural world and the brutality that always comes with it.

The wind was howling though the trees at sixty miles per hour as if it was blocking out all noise on purpose. The rain drops as big and as round as looking glasses pelted down at lightning speed, creating a mosaic of mirror images all around me; my pale white reflection staring silently at me everywhere I looked. The sky was a never ending pit of unimaginable darkness, making me feel claustrophobic. As I stared in earnest to find just an inch of light to guide me into safety, the storm picked up, the ice cold water from the rain seeping through me, freezing me to the bone. I stumbled forward blindly, my footsteps masked by the noise. What was happening? It was as though the world was in an uproar, trying desperately to unleash the anger and fury on anything it could find. What was happening?

As he stole stealthily down the eerily lit side street, the sense of danger and rage was like a blood curdling scream of anguish. As his mood increased rapidly, the sky deepened into a velvety, black pit of darkness, gradually getting darker by the second. The only source of light was the lampposts spread evenly on either side of the road; casting deformed shadows unevenly down the narrow street. Eugh, light, who invented that ghastly thing. Darkness is the key to everything. The screams and protests of his unfortunate victims were drown out, fading into a black hole of nothingness; where they were forgotten about once and for all. He paced doggedly, avoiding as much as possible, the beam of light being shed. If, by chance, a slither of light managed to escape its confinement to illuminate the dark presence, you would see the most beautiful thing you’d ever laid eyes upon. He was a proud creature of about 6 ft. 2, who had a mysterious aura about him. His toned muscular body was tense and rigid as he walked like a shadow among the pure souls of the living. He was dressed casually in a black V necked jumper, which fit him perfectly, clinging to every curve of his perfectly toned body. Alongside this he wore opened legged jeans also black, with heavy, Gothic looking boots. His footsteps were masked by the silence, the sense of dread and rage was so loud it threatened to engulf him. Suddenly, out of the blue, came an old Aston Martin screeching around the tight corners of the street. For an instance he was caught like an unfortunate rabbit in the blinding headlights. The face of this thing was extraordinary. He had a strong jaw line with a chin that jutted out at an attractive angle. He had perfectly shaped lips which always had the hint of a mocking smile, as though everything was funny. When you looked into his eyes, it sent a shiver down your spine. They were as black as the Midnight sky, with hatred and anger pent up behind them. They were like two black holes, threatening to engulf everything.

Every window he walked past showed a role play of images. Stupid, careless humans prancing about happily without a care in the world. If only they knew. If only they felt as he did. He felt nothing. No fear. No regret. No remorse. Nothing. How did anyone live with emotions, with feelings? They make you do things you have no control over, they made you fall in love. Oh how he hated that word. There’s no such thing. It was all her fault. That one person who had ruined everything; who had ripped out his un-beating heart with that cruel malicious smile spread over her face. What did his brother have that he didn’t? He was the better looking of the two, there’s no doubt about that. He knew how to turn on the charm. Why wasn’t he good enough? God damn it. He should of finished it- No; reminiscing on the past doesn’t get you anywhere. The only way is forward, and that is where I shall go.

How he hated every pitiful human, jumping at their own shadow. Surely, if they had the choice, they would choose this? Why wouldn’t they? The cold hearted memories of his past locked away far enough that he could no longer reach them. His mind full of doom and sorrow, his blackened heart still in his chest, not beating. All of the senses heightened, the reflexes as quick as a cobra striking at its prey. The thrills of watching the crimson red blood pour from the puncture marks on some pretty maidens snow white neck. It was time. Time to have some long awaited fun…

I gave up. All hope was gone. Every turn I took, I was surrounded. Surrounded by the quietness of the world. The wind had died down, the rain slowed to a stop. The silence was so loud, it threatened to engulf me; shouting, telling me to run and not to stop. This was the end; there was no escape, nowhere to run and nowhere to hide. He glided gracefully towards me; it was as though his feet never touched the ground. My heart was pounding frantically in my ears, but I ignored it as I stared in awe at the beautifully sculptured face of my killer staring hungrily down at me, his teeth barred and pointy. He seemed to tower above me, a stone sculpture against the now starry sky, looking down on my shocked face. I didn’t even see him move, he was just there, sinking his sparkling white teeth into my neck. I heard the loudness of my piercing scream echo around me, drowning out into a muffled whisper. But no one was there to save me as my blood ran freely down the road.

His stomach rumbled appreciatively as the storm sprang into life once more. Who’s next?

***

Author's Note

What do you think of the descriptions?

Reviews

[Leon C]

Sorry reading this at work at lunch and the clock is against me. So I have read the first paragraph (but I will return)
Firstly, opening has gripped me. So that is a massive plus. A publisher must throw out a lot of work after the first para.

Nice discriptions, perhaps a bit wordy but good images. However, if the rain drops travelled at lightening speed they would be to fast to see a reflection. I know picky but it jarred with me. I don't think you need to state the speed of the wind. It sounds to precise.
I think you missed a trick in the claustrophia, nice image and thought but you need to contrast it with the fact you are outside.
should stared be replaced with searched (or similar word)?
I think the rain you describe would seep through clothing it would do something more immediate.

So sorry for sounding so negative but I liked your writing style and wanted to help. This isn't a bad review. I will return because I liked it.

[Nicole Grimason]

Thank you. :)

[alan peter kelly]

Hello Nicole. This story is so poetic in places. I observe how much time went into the architecture of its creation...there are many poetic devises utilised and want to congratulate you on that point because such methods help a story flow. You made the killer sort of sexy, not of mind, no, he is either vampire or a psychopath but how strange it often be how one can paint a know killer handsomely when an entire history of murderers could be lined up by the aesthetic police and only square jawed pretty boy biter is Ted Bundy....it's an observation not a criticism...it's an interesting move away from monsters actually looking like monsters...yr story held my attention for all the right reasons. I see scope for editing and a few spelling corrections but @19 I see a writer in you...and hope to see more creative gems come from your sparkling mind :)

[Salem Gray]

Great story. You have a lot of potential here for a very powerful story. If I could offer any advice, I'd say, regarding your descriptions, maybe be more concise with them. You have some beautiful imagery spread throughout, but at times, the imagery gets a little heavy.
For example, the first paragraph of the story is full of descriptions. Which isn't necessary bad, but I think you could cut back on them. Less is more sometimes!
I think you have an interesting start here and I'd love to see more!

[Nicole Grimason]

Thank you :)