The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!
by A.F. Stewart
You could see it from the road as you drove past my neighbour’s farm.
A weathered hut, cement and stone with a tin roof, and a rusted metal door. A locked door, sealed shut with a chain and a corroded padlock. You can’t see the lock from the road of course, but I’ve had a closer view.
Maybe it was trespassing, sneaking on to his farm and inspecting his old shed, but I needed to know. The whole town whispered about my neighbour, how he wasn’t right, how he kept to himself; most folk thought he was making moonshine or cooking drugs in his shed.
I didn’t, but I needed to be sure.
That night I went to the shed, and with the only window blacked out, I broke in to confirm my suspicions. Picking the lock was easy; one of many skills I learned during a misspent youth. And the rusty old door opened on all his secrets.
I found what I was looking for.
Rows of knives, hacksaws and other weapons hanging the walls, covered in dried blood, Red stains on the floor. A crooked shelf with nine jars of liquid with a pair of eyeballs floating in each one. I stared at a set in particular, a familiar shade of green staring back at me. Her eyes. Her beautiful, gentle eyes, the only thing he left me.
I had my proof.
I know now why my neighbour’s storage shed was always padlocked.
I was right about him.
It’s where he killed his victims.
It’s where I killed him for what he did to my sister.
Fiction © Copyright A.F. Stewart
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com
More from A.F. Stewart:
In the shadows—voices.
Calling, screaming, moaning.
Countless tongues telling tales…
and Unnatural Things
Come chase the dark words, fall into the spell of terror and sit with the poetic weaver as you watch the world burn. Horror Haiku Pas de Deux is a volume of poetry mixing horror with haiku and verse to chill your bones.
Poetic beauty lives forever with the undead.