The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!
I woke again in the middle of night, not sure why.
Then I heard it. I listened, my heart pounding. There it was again. A definite creaking like… like someone was walking.
I sat up and listened again. Nothing. Okay, I was hearing things. I had to stop eating so late. I settled back under the covers again, trying to still my thoughts, turn off my brain. I had to get some sleep.
This restlessness had begun last week. I’d be in a deep sleep and then I’d pop awake. I’d lay there, eyes wide open, waiting, watching, thinking that something was out there. It was like the old childhood fear of a monster hiding in the closet waiting to get me, except this was ten times worse.
I’d mentioned it to my friend, who typically laughed such things off. “The boogie man? Or maybe it’s the man of your dreams – or nightmares? Haaaa!”
Her laughter still grated.
I did try to shake it off. I tried to ignore the odd feeling of dread that came over me at bedtime. I drank a hot toddy, enjoying the warmth of the whiskey. I took a hot bath. I rubbed Vicks on my feet thinking maybe I’d caught a bug or something.
I fell into a deep sleep and then wham! My eyes popped open. I sat up and stared at the closet door, my heart pounding even harder. It-it was partly open! But I’d closed it. I swore I did. I had!
I trembled, thinking about what I should do. Close the door, or run and fling it open? Or should I just get up and go watch TV?
The partly open door mocked me. It lured me. I remembered my friend laughing at me. Anger spurred me on.
I flung my feet over the edge of the bed and slid into my slippers. Slowly, my hand feeling along the edge of the bed, I made my way toward the closet. One foot. Two feet. Closer and closer. I stood within inches of the door and listened. All I heard was the heavy thump-thump-thump of my heart.
“You’re being silly,” I whispered. “There’s nothing there. Nothing.”
I reached out, grabbed the knob, and pulled the door open. Nothing jumped out at me. The room remained quiet. I flicked on the light switch and stared at… nothing. A jumble of clothes. Piles of shoes and handbags. I really needed to clean that up.
Disgusted with myself, I turned off the light and shut the door. I was awake, so I decided to go make some coffee. I turned and…
There! I heard it again.
I stood still, unable to move as I heard the sound again.
Something moved. I could hear it sliding around. It thumped against the bed frame. It scratched and clicked the wood floor.
I began to shiver, thoughts of long, sharp nails digging in the floor as it tried to make its way out to get me.
The sounds grew louder. I screamed and grabbed at the door, my sweaty hands sliding. I couldn’t get hold of the doorknob. I couldn’t get the door open!
I turned and saw a long, scaly limb snaking out. I grabbed at the wall, my hand pushing the light on, revealing…
Nothing. I was alone.
No—wait! I screamed at the reflection in the mirror across the way. My face! “What happened to me? What’s happening?”
The eerie black and white face, something that looked like a distorted X-ray, stared back. But it wasn’t me. It was… I backed up, trying to get away.
“No, No! Someone help, hellllllllllll—”
Fiction © Copyright Ashley Davis
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com
One hot August morning in 1892, Lizzie Borden picked up an axe and murdered her father and stepmother. Newspapers claim she did it for the oldest of reasons: family conflicts, jealousy and greed. But what if her parents were already dead? What if Lizzie slaughtered them because they’d become zombies?
Thrust into a horrific world where the walking dead are part of a shocking conspiracy to infect not only Fall River, Massachusetts, but also the world beyond, Lizzie battles to protect her sister, Emma, and her hometown from nightmarish ghouls and the evil forces controlling them.