Amethyst Butterflies

Trying my hand at suspense

He could hear them still, screaming and writhing in pain throughout the house. He huddled inside the walk-in closet, holding his breathe as sweat dripped from his brow. A girl sits trembling in his arms. Her face pressed into his chest to hide her sobs. The house was silent now except for the soft shuffling of something moving throughout the house. The house creaked and groaned where ‘it’ stepped. He did not, no, could not understand what happened.

The night started off as a joyful and merry party in his house. A two-story townhouse, with the living room connected with the kitchen. It was the perfect place to have a party where friends and family coming together to celebrate July 4^th, Independence Day. He came across one young woman with an especially beautiful and shiny Amethyst Butterfly Ring. The ring reminded him of his wife, oh how she loved butterflies, his lost and treacherous wife. Treacherous? No, that label didn’t fit. He was struggling with long buried and forgotten memories when the woman’s bottom brushed against his manhood. His struggling ceased as the woman gave him an enchanted look and winked at him as she started pulling his hand.

Foreplay, that’s all it really was. The young woman wanted him and he wanted her. He played her game for a bit. Until he decided to push himself on her and they went at it. That was when the screaming began. At first he thought that someone had stepped on someone or broken a piece of glass. But more screams followed. Someone in pain sings a different tune than one who is in fear, he should know for he worked in an ER where people were constantly being brought in screaming in pain. These were not the songs of people in pain, but people who were in fear. And then he heard ‘it’. A sharp wail, a shriek not made for human ears. It was as if ‘it’ was laughing. The wail was more than he or his female companion could bear. With ears ringing in pain, they both collapsed off the bed in a tangle of sheets and pillows. The woman hurries up off the floor, arm outstretched reaching for the door, but stops inches from the handle. Her hand was trembling; he could see the fear in her eyes. Truthfully, he was about to soil his pants himself. The screaming continued. Some were cut short others, however, were not so lucky. He could hear some screams turn to gurgles and whimpers as they struggled for their last breathe. Then he heard the creak of the stairs as whatever ‘it’ was ascended the stairs. He heard a woman, pleading for her life, right outside the door. He grabbed the girl from the door and rushed into the walk-in closet beside the bed. He shut the double doors behind him as he heard ‘it’ shriek and a violent snap. The woman’s pleas were heard no more.

And now he sits in the dark room, listening, waiting. The woman continues to tremble in his arms. The whimpers and gurgles were all but gone. ‘It’ shuffles through the house, knocking over pieces of furniture. It seems to be searching, but for what? Was it he or the girl? Or maybe it was searching for a specific item. The shuffling stops outside the door. He hears the fumbling of a door nob and the unmistakable creak of a door opening. He could see ‘it’s’ shadow through the double door’s threshold. He held his breath as the shuffling inched closer to the door. Could ‘it’ know where he was? Could ‘it’ smell him? He could hear ‘it’ panting outside his room. ‘It’ shrieked again. He and his companion collapsed in pain to the floor. The shriek lasted for what seemed like an eternity. His ears popped and thought he felt blood. It was more than he could bear. He feinted…

His thoughts were uneasy ones. There was blood on his hands and around his feet. He freaked at the sight of it, his blood? He looked himself over yet could not find the source of the blood. A hand shout out and grabbed his foot. Startled, he stumbled back and fell over. He looked down to find a woman, her face hidden behind her hair, grasping his leg. She was dressed in a red stained white night gown. She moaned and groaned as her grip tightened. She whispered “why”. He tried to kick the woman away but found he was unable to move his legs. She continued to repeat that three-letter word, over and over. The voice seemed so familiar, and then he saw it. The ring on her finger, an amethyst butterfly ring, oh how his wife loved butterflies. To his horror, he saw bloody handprints on her neck and a knife protruding from her stomach.  He tried to speak but he couldn’t move his mouth. She continued to repeat, in a soft whisper, “why”. He found himself pushing himself towards her. He had lost all control of his body as he watched his hands reaching for her neck. His eyes widened in terror “No, oh please no not again. You should be dead.” His anger rising, “I killed you once I can kill you again you w***e.” She looked up to him and gave him a very bloody wry smile with bloodshot eyes boring into his soul.

He awoke, lying on the couch with a book in his hand. He quickly sat up and looked around. Everything he had just experienced was gone. The party, the girl, the screams, and ‘it’, all of it disappeared. Was everything really just a dream? He struggled with hazy memories however one thing he could not seem to forget was the ear splitting shriek. He shuddered at the thought of ‘it’. He didn’t feel right, like something was off. He sat up from the couch and ventured into the kitchen. It seemed everything was normal however, as if the nothing ever happened. He started to make himself some food. Walked to the fridge and brought out some leftover soup he found. His stomach was in knots, which he chalked up to being hungry. Despite everything appearing to be okay, he could not shake this feeling of uneasiness. He warmed up his soup and headed upstairs to his room. With the soup in one hand and his phone in the other, he checked to see how long he had been sleeping. He stopped at the foot of the stairs. His eyes widened in confusion. The date on his phone read July 5, the day after the party. He was still trying to puzzle everything out when out of the corner of his eye, he saw something shiny drop down the stairs. It bounced down the steps and landed by his feet. He saw, to his horror, a beautiful amethyst butterfly ring specked with blood. He let out a breathe of air, as everything seemed to piece itself together. Everything was begging to make a twisted sort of sense. His skin crawled as he felt the eyes of someone on him. No, not someone, but something. He slowly raised his eyes to the top of the stairs.

‘It’ was staring at its bare feet, skin gray and lifeless. Hair muddled with grime and dried caked blood. Its white night gown was stained with blood. He was frozen in place. His legs refused to move, whether from fear or from the power this thing possessed. It slowly raised its head and with bloodshot eyes it stared at him, with what almost seemed like pleasure. It’s mouth twisted into a very bloody and wry smile. ‘It’ shrieked curling his blood and splitting his ears as his bowl of soup shattered on the floor. Oh how his wife loved butterflies…-end

 

Author's Note

Constructive Criticism is appreciated =)

Reviews

[Obsidian Wave]

I feel like suspense is hard to pull off through a written medium, however you did an excellent job with the timing. Prolonging just enough to arouse the sense, but not to the point of overkill.

[Carrie]

I love this piece, you did a great job combining thrilling suspense and mystery with reality when it hits him at the end that he is the killer. Great job!

[Reform69]

Thank you =)