The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Pact
by A.F. Stewart

A light film of rust coated the antique typewriter; no one had used it in a long time. The proprietor had tucked it in a far corner of the thrift shop and left it to be forgotten. Yet, such things are not easily dismissed.

One autumn day, when the leaves were crisp and the wind sharp, when the scent of wood smoke and decay peppered the air, a fresh piece of white paper mysteriously appeared in the machine. Of their own accord, the keys clacked, clacked against the ribbon, spitting out five black letters of a name.

Karen.

Nothing else, only the name, but even that small action sent a shiver through the skin of the proprietor and charged the interior of the shop with electricity. The owner shuffled to the back, the tap of his cane sounding echoes much like the click of the keys. He stopped and shrugged, his head tilting.

“I thought we were done.”

The jingle of the bell above the door pulled his attention and a middle-aged woman strolled into the shop. He sighed and returned to serve his customer, a thoroughly unpleasant regular.

She plunked a damaged knickknack on the counter. “This broke after I purchased it. I want a refund!”

“All sales are final.” The old man ground his teeth. Always the same thing.

“I want a refund!”

“No refund. That piece was not broken when it left my shop.”

“What? Are you saying this is my fault?”

“Yes.” Also, you’re a cheapskate and a cheat.

“Well, I never!” The woman swept up her damaged knickknack and stormed out of the store.

In the back, the rusty keys clacked again, typing the message, Time of Death 11:55 AM. 

The proprietor glanced at his watch: 11:54 AM. He gripped the edge of the counter and waited. Tick, tick went the seconds, and then…a squeal of car brakes. A sickening thud and crunch. Screaming. 

Moving to the door, he witnessed the scene of a horrific accident, the body of his former customer crumpled under a car. Pieces of shattered porcelain surrounded her bloody head. Raising his voice loud enough to carry to the back of the shop, he remarked, “Well, she’s dead. Happy now?”

The sound of typing echoed through the emporium, keeping time with the tap of the old man’s cane. When he checked the message, it read: “Yes, I’m happy and so are you. I only kill the ones you hate. It’s what we agreed on.”

The old man nodded; he wouldn’t miss that harpy of a woman. 

“A pact is a pact. And no regrets, after all.” 

As he moved away, a whiff of sulphur and laughter echoed through the shop.

.

Fiction © Copyright A.F. Stewart
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

 

More from A.F. Stewart:

Visions and Nightmares

Tragedy spares no one… and takes no prisoners.
In the twilight shadows, secrets are revealed past the whispers of madness.

Wander into the realm of the old gods with Elenora, where humanity and marriage are a prison.
Step through a looking glass of dark horrors with an Alice you never knew.
Join with Zenna to seek the truth as her death by magic grows closer.
Journey with Olivia as she crosses paths with a monster of the forest and runs for her life.
Watch Isobel summon the faerie to solve her problem of an unwanted husband.
Shiver as Doctor Killbride experiments with corpses to create life from death.
All that and more await within the pages.

Ten stories. Ten women.
Who will survive? Who will fall? And who will succumb to their inner evil?
Find out in Visions and Nightmares.

Warning: This book contains disturbing scenes that may be upsetting to some readers.

Available on Amazon!