Shadow and the Chair

Man is visited by a dark specter

He woke up at midnight, it felt as if hell had woken up with him. His chair cradled him like a mistress and the clock was chiming like a jealous lover. He didn't know why he was there, or even how, he just knew that he was. He got up in his crimson satin robe and approached the snow covered window, he did so with grace, and with a quiet dissatisfaction.

Everything outside was white, it was as if god had grown tired of it and was slowly erasing the world. He turned from the window to the fire place that stood in front of the chair he woke up in. The fire faced the front of the chair, but now he was facing the back, he imagined that even though the back was still engulfed in darkness the front must be shining like a new coin. The fire roared with an intensity seldom seen in a fire, at that moment is when the man figured he must be dreaming.

He found a mirror hanging next to a door. He moved towards it only to discover that he was not looking his best. His short black hair was badly in need of a brush, and it appeared to have been a day or two since his last shave. The wall behind him, but in front of him through the mirror erupted in a shadow of him caused by the fire, but the shadow was not obeying his movements.

He found his shadow going towards the door. He turned from the mirror and ran towards the shadow. It stopped, pointing at the clock. It was still midnight, the witching hour, and the most feared time of any. He turned back to the shadow, which sunk to the floor and slipped through under the space between the floor and the door.

The man turned the handle, and the door opened smoothly, but still creaked open as if the its joints were rusty. There were now stairs in front of the man, and the shadow glided up the stairs and continued to elude the man. He began running up the stairs, and they began to circle as if he were in some sort of tower. Thoughts of kings, queens and traitors being sent to the tower of London came to his mind. "Never mind that, I must find the specter, and discover his intentions." He thought to himself.

There was a door at the end of the stairs, and once again he opened it. There was an empty attic facing him, except for one thing. There was a chair facing him, one that looked exactly like the one down in the parlor, and his shadow sat down, and began to take form, and it's form was that of the reaper, and he knew what it had come for.

Richard McLin 2006

Author's Note

My good friend "Kit Kat" wrote a great piece in a Poe style. That made me want to re-post this tale I wrote years ago as a tribute for one of the all time greats, so if you like this piece thank her for her inspiration, unless Kit Kat you are reading this, then I thank you.

Reviews

[deeps]

Aw well thank you, you didn't have to mention me that was sweet.

Now this is creepy really, I had a dream once I have it posted in one of my books.
About my encounter with the Reaper. it's a book called "Para-Nights" in which
I wrote and still am adding my chapters in.

But Wow! this was totally amazing. I really enjoyed this write.

[SM Davis]

you did it justice! I really enjoy your stories. You've got a good feel for the twists and turns of the Poe style. Well written.

[Doctor JKC]

I despise clocks that are unbroken.

In ways better than Poe, who I love, but find so verbose.
This was nailed.
Jack