Happy Halloween Ghouls!
I have a little spooky short story for your perusal on this wonderfully creepy night, so without further ado, curl up next to the fireplace or electric heater and read away! The Last Winter By Elliott Thomas Clyde Terrence's hands were frozen. No blood wished to continue flowing through the veins that snaked under the skin of his spindly fingers, thick knuckles and wide open palms. Yes, they shook, indicating that life still went on within those hands of his, but the cold rendered them incapable of anything other than an uncontrollable shake. "C'mon." Clyde mumbled under his quivering breath. "C'mon, c'mon, c'mon." There was an uncomfortable tension spreading across the back of his neck. It seemed as if his body was reminding him that there were a million other things he could be doing other than standing outside on a street corner in the middle of the coldest winter the country had seen in the last decade. But if Clyde was doing something else, he wouldn't have the chance to score this big. He shifted uncomfortably on his feet and leant up against a street light, it was flickering on and off in the cold dark. Clyde continued to shake as he brought his hands together, he began to rub them against each other in an attempt to warm them and stop the jitters; he'd need these hands working soon enough. Clyde kept his eyes focused on the large house situated across the damp, sleet covered road. It was a typical two storey brick house, one large window on the top floor made it look like a large Cyclops. The lights were still on inside and a black Sedan was parked in its driveway. Everyone was still home. Clyde breathed in and out slowly, his breath clouding out as if he were smoking a cigar. Winters embrace bit into his skin, through the jacket, jumper and heavy t shirt he was wearing, its icy fingers massaged his head through the beanie. Fabric be damned. It had been about ten years since Clyde started robbing houses, he'd been fired from his job and was left wandering the streets angrily, raging at the world for his screw ups. Clyde remembered he'd pounded pavement until he realised he'd run so far out of the neighbourhood that he wound up in an area he didn't know. Clyde had looked up at all the posh houses and despised the people inside, knowing they were rich and well off, while he faced day after day of poverty and struggle. So Clyde reacted, before he could register what he was doing, he walked up to the first house he saw and kicked the door in. Surprised at his own strength, the door had splintered and caved to his attack. No alarms went off, no one was inside. And so he went from room to room, taking as many valuables as he could carry. That was the first score. Over the years, there had been countless more, and he had gotten better, more seasoned with each job. He hadn't had to work another day in his life, he didn't have any family to take care of and so Clyde went where he pleased, never staying in one area too long, never arousing suspicion, never getting caught. Clyde snapped out of his daydreaming as he heard a car starting, he looked up and saw the lights had gone off and the Sedan was now backing out of the driveway. It was just about time. Clyde watched the car take off and disappear around the corner before he slowly started to cross the street towards the looming house. He heard thunder rumbling, deep and ominous, he looked up and couldn't see the night sky through the clouds, with each step droplets of rain began to fall, and by the time he reached the driveway, it quickly developed into a downpour. "Shit." Clyde muttered angrily as he trudged up the driveway, silently thanking the owners that their front yard was entirely concrete. By the time he reached the front door, Clyde was soaking wet from head to toe and shivering all over, he hated the cold, and he hated being wet. He sighed and tried to think of happy things, like how much loot he was going to get from this house. Clyde was about to produce his lock picks when the door swung open, startling him. He took a step back instinctively, heart hammering against his chest. Sucking in a breath, he stood his ground and peered inside, it was pitch black, he couldn't see a thing. "Well, hello there young man." A sultry voice called from the blackness, over the pouring rain. "You look quite a mess." Clyde frowned, and gasped quietly as a figure began to slink out of that darkness, as if they were materializing in front of him. Clearly of female form and quite seductive. Then lightning flashed and lit up the figure, it was a beautiful woman, wearing a tight red dress, enticing and voluptuous. Clyde swallowed heavily and tried to speak, in an attempt to explain what he was doing out the front of a house he'd planned to rob, but the woman raised a hand. Clyde saw a smile flick across her full red lips, her emerald eyes gleaming. "Please, don't say anything; you must come inside to get warm again." Clyde was about to protest but then decided, why the hell not? He was frozen to the bone, he needed to warm up, and being alone in a house with a beautiful woman didn't sound too bad at all. "Thanks." Clyde answered in a gravelly voice and stepped inside, "Appreciate it." "It's my pleasure." The woman beckoned him inside and closed the door. Clyde stood in the hallway and took in his surroundings, the darkness would have been overpowering if it weren't for the crackling fireplace illuminating the room at the far end of where he was standing. He felt the woman touch his shoulder lightly and he shivered, her fingers chilled him to the bone. "I apologize." She answered in a playful tone, "I think I may need to warm up too." Clyde nodded slightly. "Sure." The Woman moved past his shivering, wet body and stalked down the hallway towards the flickering fireplace, shadows danced with her, caressing her full figure, causing a wave of desire to wash over Clyde, it had been a very long time since he'd been with a woman. "This way, young man." She urged, Clyde smirked at the thought of being called a young man again. At forty eight years of age, he wasn't exactly sure if he qualified for that anymore. Either way, he followed the woman, onward to the next room. Clyde could feel the warmth emanating from the fireplace as he stepped into the vast room whilst following the alluring woman. Although his rational mind was screaming out that something was wrong here, he paid it no heed. Not when he could see the outline of the woman's body as the firelight caressed her figure. Outside, the rain was as relentless as the lightning and thunder, the wind had picked up and it felt as if the entire house were shaking. Clyde took in what he could see of the room, it felt cavernous and was almost bare save for a plush looking couch off to one side and the ornate fireplace itself. A large window with curtains drawn let the full moon shone through, but it didn't seem to be doing much in brightening the place up. Clyde frowned at the emptiness surrounding him; there would be nothing to steal here. He disregarded the gnawing at the pit of his stomach and figured other rooms would hold valuables. "Come closer." The woman beckoned, bringing him back to his current situation, any ideas of theft fell away as he took a few tentative steps towards the woman who now stood near the fireplace with a serene smile on her face. As Clyde neared the woman he could hear the wind howling from outside, an unholy cacophony that sent a shiver up his spine. The woman rested an elbow upon the top edge of the crackling fireplace, her swelling breasts pushing up to a point where Clyde thought they would burst out. He wouldn't mind in the slightest. Finally he reached her, the woman continued to stare at Clyde with curious emerald eyes, they were intoxicating. "Please, warm your hands." She spoke soothingly, "You need to keep warm." Damn right, Clyde thought, and cautiously brought his hands close to the fire, his shaking had subsided and his muscles and joints began to relax. "That's good." She purred. Clyde detected a slight bit of excitement in her voice, "Very good." Clyde stared at the fire, mesmerised by the crackling flames, feeling his energy renew, at this moment, it was just about the greatest feeling ever. "We've been waiting a long time for you Clyde." Dread gripped Clyde and his head snapped up to the woman and his screams were drowned out by the heavy rain and thunder. Clyde looked into empty eye sockets. He saw charred flesh and white bone. Her face had rotted away and all that was left was a grinning skull. Before the terrified Clyde could react, the monster grabbed him by the wrists, her grip was like being caught in a vice and to his utter horror, she drove them into the flames. Clyde let out an ungodly howl as his hands burned. The flames seared away his flesh and ate away at his veins; he experienced an agony no one should have to endure. He shook and tried to escape, but the monster held him tight and he continued to burn. Then without warning, she yanked him out of the flames and threw him with an unnatural force away from the fireplace. Clyde soared through the air and came down hard on his shoulder and felt something snap. Clyde registered the snap but didn't feel anything; he was in too much shock and shaking uncontrollably. He twisted onto his back and moaned as he looked at his hands, they were black and charred, white bone jutted out at the end of his fingertips and he cried out at the awful sight of his ruined hands. Then he heard the monster begin to chuckle. Clyde whimpered as it came upon him, its ugly grin and hanging clumps of skin burning into his retinas, it held a butchers knife in its hands. "Wh- wh- wh- what...." Clyde stuttered, trying to find the words. "As I said, Clyde Terrance." The skull's jaw moved creaked. Each word was pronounced slow and deliberate and sounded like a mixture of different voices and burning leaves crackling. "We've been waiting for you, for a very long time. You've been very naughty." Clyde's shaking intensified as the creature began to caress the butcher's knife. "You have lied, you have cheated, and you have.....stolen." The creature straddled Clyde; he was now beginning to slip further into a state of shock, powerless to do anything else. "What does a thief value most?" The creature chuckled and ran a finger across the edge of the butcher's knife. "Ah yes, lovely hands. Lovely, lovely hands." Clyde let out a low moan as he began to slip away, knowing full well he wasn't about to come back. The skull was all he could see. "We are going to enjoy this one." It said.
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So I've been tinkering with this idea for a little while now, I've actually planned this short story to be a possible prologue for a full length novel, I just wanted to share this with you fine people to see if it resonates and intrigues.
I'm looking forward to your reviews and hopefully one day soon The Slicers will be back in an even more gruesome way ;) The slicers By Elliott Thomas Keith sighed heavily as he killed the ignition of the Ford, its low purring ceased and he was left in silence. The tired man closed his eyes and raised a hand to pinch his nose for a moment before dropping it heavily to his lap. It had been quite a day at the office and all Keith wanted was some rest. He exhaled and opened his eyes, taking in the darkened garage, Keith noticed all the cars were parked in their usual spots, everybody was home. Keith was already plotting how to avoid human contact when the back door opened and his father Stanley wandered out. He was getting on now, Keith realized, noticing that what little hair the old man had left was completely white now; it gave Stanley a comical, clown like appearance and put Keith at ease instantly. Not caring about his plot anymore, Keith opened the door of his Ford and stepped out. He smiled as Stanley jumped slightly at the sight of the younger, more tired man. "Jesus, son," Stanley breathed roughly, "Don't fuckin scare me like that." "How did you not see me here?" Keith replied, "My car is right here." "I don't know and I don't care." Stanley brushed Keith's question aside, "Just don't do it!" Keith chuckled at Stanley's exasperation, "OK, dad." He acquiesced. Stanley nodded and crouched down to fish out a pair of shoes from his shoe-box; Stanley had a special shoe-box that no one was allowed to touch, lest they face the wrath of the old man. Although Stanley always insisted that he only kept shoes in there, Keith wondered, not for the first time, if he actually kept money or drugs in there. "Your mother wants to see you by the way." Stanley grunted, "Don't keep her waiting." "Yes, sir." Keith obeyed as he slipped off his sneakers and opened the back door. "See you inside, have fun with.... Whatever the hell you're doing." He finished with a smile. "Yeah, yeah, piss off." Stanley smiled back; Keith went inside, leaving the old man to his devices. Keith ambled through the house to where his mother sat ensconced watching TV. Yvonne's eyes were glued to the program she was currently addicted to, even as she grabbed a handful of popcorn from the bowl on her lap, she did not waver in attention to the happenings on screen. "Hey, mom." Keith sighed tiredly as he came up near her, "Dad says you want to see me?" "Hey honey," Yvonne answered, attention still fixed on the screen. "Did you bring the sardines home?" "Crap." Keith groaned, "I completely forgot." Yvonne turned to face Keith, finally averting her eyes from the TV. "It's been a long day mom." Keith mumbled. "I promise I'll grab em tomorrow." Yvonne sensed her son's fatigue and her features softened, "It's ok sweetie, I only need them for Friday." Keith smiled weakly and rubbed his jaw, "Thanks mom, appreciate it." "Look whose home." A voice called from the hallway, Keith looked over and saw his brother Sam strutting into the room, a pompous look across his face. "Yeah, after a long day at work." Keith murmured. It wasn't as if Keith hated Sam, on the contrary, he loved his younger brother; it was just that Sam always tended to get difficult most hours of the day. "Well Mr. Workerman." Drawled Sam, "You should get in the shower and straight to bed, you probably need your beauty sleep." "Shut up Sam." Keith sighed, "Not in the mood." "Boys." Yvonne warned, "No fighting tonight, OK?" Sam looked like he was about to burst into a tirade, but he stopped himself and glanced over to his mother. "Yeah, yeah." He looked over at Keith and shrugged his shoulders. The argument wasn't over; it was just delayed for a short time. Keith pushed past his brother and made his way to his room, after gently closing the door, he flopped down onto his bed, utterly spent. Keith turned over onto his stomach and buried his face into the pillow, he really should shower, but the call of sleep was intoxicating, maybe if he slept now, he'd be able to wake up early for a shower before work. His thoughts were interrupted by screaming. It was his mother. Keith twisted onto his back and bolted upright. "Mom?!" Keith yelled as he leapt to his feet, tiredness obliterated by adrenaline. There was a large thumping sound against the wall of Keith's room and more screaming before it was cut short, followed by an awful gurgling sound that froze Keith's blood. He grabbed the door handle and flung it open to see Sam in the hallway, breathing heavily, face smeared with blood. "Sam!" Keith cried out, "What the-" "Move!" Sam cut him off and roughly shoved Keith back into his room, "Get out now! Out the window!" Before Keith could gather his senses, Sam had slammed the door shut, Keith ran up to open it again and then cried out as he heard Sam begin to scream. There was a wet tearing sound that caused Keith to moan in terror, he frantically tried to open the door but something was blocking it. He felt something wet at his feet, he looked down and choked out a scream, blood was seeping through under the door. Whatever had happened, Keith felt his mother and Sam were no more. Keith stumbled backwards and turned to the window, he knew he had to escape. He bounded over and opened it up, thanking God he hadn't fixed his fly screen yet, and tumbled out into the darkness. Keith grunted as he fell awkwardly headlong and slammed into the grassy surface, elbows first. As he turned over onto his back, the window above him exploded as Sam's lifeless body was launched through. Blood and glass rained down upon the shaking Keith, he screamed again and crawled backwards in an attempt to get away from whoever had tossed his brother like a rag doll. "Sam!" Was all Keith could choke out before getting to his feet and running away, he couldn't face the fact Sam was hanging lifelessly there, but he was and Keith had to escape. Keith breathlessly took off around the back of the house; he needed to make his way to the garage to find his father. Keith bounded around the corner and came around the front of the house; he saw the garage was open, the light shining out to illuminate the driveway. "Dad!" Keith yelled over and over, praying he was alive. Keith's eyes darted from left to right, searching for a sign, and then he saw him, his father standing down the driveway. Keith yelled out and took off towards him, a well of happiness springing from his heart. As Keith neared his father, that happiness died, something was wrong; his father was walking strangely, like he was fighting with his own limbs. "Dad, what's wrong? What's happened?" But Keith would not get that answer. As the figure turned around he looked upon the horror of his father's face, it was being worn by the figure that was standing there so awkwardly. Keith's stomach dropped as he laid his eyes upon the abomination, this thing had taken his father's face and was now using it as a sickening skin mask, loose flaps of torn flesh hung all around and were haphazardly plastered to the skull of this being. Keith retched and cried out his father's name. He locked eyes with the wearer and saw they were a burning coal black, Keith's knees wobbled as he stepped backwards in fear of the creature. Before he could do anything else, he felt an intense sharp pain lance through the small of his back and then puncture through his stomach. With a terrible surprise, Keith looked down dumbly and saw a blade sticking out of the front of his shirt, covered in his own blood. He gurgled and spat dark, coppery tasting fluid before tumbling to the floor. Keith's vision began to blur as he saw the shoes of the person standing in front of him; they were joined by another pair, dark bloodstained boots, and then a third, high heels. Keith couldn't believe that his family was gone from this earth, but a part of him didn't mind as he realized with an awful finality he would be joining them quite soon. As Keith began to gurgle his final breath, the wearer of the cowboy boots approached his prone body and kicked him over onto his back. Keith looked up to the night sky and could see the blurry outline of the person standing over him, they wore a wide brimmed hat, a long coat and they held what looked like a sickle. Keith knew that they were going to take his face. He just hoped he'd be gone before the pain started. He got his wish as the figure crouched down and began to slice through flesh. The collection would grow. |
About Elliott
Elliott Thomas is a native Sydney dweller who loves to write. No genre is off limits. That's all you need to know, carry on. Archive
March 2018
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