|  LuridHope | Jun 15, 2007 2:20pm | | It was cold for october. My car had broken down in front of a cemetary on a little isolated road 10 miles from the nearest gas station. Fotunately the moon was full and it lit my way as I pulled my jacket tight and began to walk... |
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Sponsor |  MumZau | Jun 15, 2007 8:37pm | | ..I don't know why, but some places give me the creeps. In the no-nonsense light of day, you'd cop an earful from me if you even suggested that such things as ghosts, spirits, all that superstitious rot existed. I would go out of my way to let you know exactly WHAT I felt on the subject. Ask my friends if you don't believe me, they'll all tell you that their good old mate Bentley Shubaster knows what he's on about, even if they do say it with smirks plastered all over their goofy faces. - I'm a scientist after all and my job is finding and fitting the FACTS together. Still.. of all the frigging places to break down.. |
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| | LuridHope | Jun 15, 2007 10:34pm | An owl hoots from the bare branch of an old dead tree as silhouettes of bats pass across the full moon.
As Bently continued on he bagan to hear and ever loudening creaking sound which belonged to the gate of a small graveyard as it blew in the wind |
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Sponsor | | MumZau | Jun 16, 2007 6:19am | | Bentley's heart was in his mouth and he quickened his pace. A band of steel seemed to grip his chest and he felt real fear. Thirty eight and fit as a fiddle and about to die of a heart attack ten freaking miles from nowhere. The wind was playing a malicious game of shriek and chill as it battered his bony frame and his old jacket was a pitiful defence against the onslaught. "Get me out of here" the hoarse whisper was lost to the heavens and unaware of having put voice to his fears, Bentley continued to walk.. |
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| | Zephyr-The-Zeph | Jun 16, 2007 6:20am | | "Oh Snap Nigga", Those were his last words. |
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Sponsor | | MumZau | Jun 16, 2007 6:48am | | .. the pain was frightening. His life was condensed into this moment, this thud thud one foot in front of another onward march. Bentley felt violated, helpless against forces beyond his control. Throughout the years, he had taken for granted the seamless unrolling of his life. No budding genius by any stretch of the imagination, but a studious approach had seen the hard toil pay off as Bentley plodded past the finish line of academia and then to land a place in a plum institution like Sciegro - to have it all end now.. Bentley gave an involuntary gasp, startling a shadowy bird into heart lurching flight.. |
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| | LuridHope | Jun 16, 2007 11:51am | As clouds pass in front of the moon, the monster changes back into shivering frightened man, "My God! What have I done!!! Not again!"
He began to run toward an old victorian house which sat atop a hill behind the grave yard. Suddenly a rotting hand reaches out from below a grave. |
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Sponsor | | MumZau | Jun 16, 2007 5:51pm | The moonlight picked out the wild flight of the running man, the old house seemed to be extending arms of welcome, perhaps it was the dance of shadows and the movement of life amongst the shadowy trees, but to the frightened man, it was manna from heaven on this terrifying night - he HAD seen a shrouded form emerge from a crumbling crypt in the graveyard, it had been plain as day.
Unaware of the other man's presence, Bentley felt only relief as the band of steel loosened it's grip on his chest. His breathing resumed the comforting pace that ordinarily passed unnoticed. As he walked, Bentley noted an old mansion looming in the distance, it's elevation suggested that it sat atop a hill at the back of the graveyard. That meant people and a telephone.. Bentley shrugged off his unexplained fear of the night and headed towards the distant bulk. He could have kicked himself for forgetting his mobile but all's well that ends well.. Bentley smiled in the moonlight.. |
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| | newgirl2u2 | Mar 19, 4:07am | | Upon reaching the mansion, he noticed he is bleeding. What the heck? How did this happen, did something snag his arm? Blood ran down, he licked is off. Not a bad wound, but a wound nonetheless. He scurried up the hill, in fear of whatever grabbed him would do so again. At least he was just about out of the graveyard and near the living. |
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The Art of Short Stories → Discussion