Story Sunday: What Happens Next? (The Lurking Visitor)

 

Just had to do this one!  This prompt is taken from Liam J Cross Writing and Editing:

The Prompt

Time to take out the trash.

You sigh as you walk down your driveway. You sigh all the way to the trash can. But when you lift the lid, your sigh dissipates, and you scream.

* * *

What Happens Next?

The lid fell to the cemented ground with a loud *CLANG!* as the sound seemingly echoes throughout the subdivision.  You knew you’d opened your mouth to scream, but only air rose from it.

Blinking hard and furious, you peer down once more…

…to see the wide brown eyes staring back.

Your own eyes.

The eyes held the look of terror with the bloodied mouth framed to look as if it was silently screaming.  You force yourself to see if the rest of the body was in the garbage can, but the neck had been cut in such a way that it appears like someone had torn the head from the body.

“What sick joke is this?!?” You said.

The only thing you hear was more silence until a breeze sweeps through the grids of cookie-cutter houses, and you swear you hear someone whispering in your ear–

“Behold, your future.”

 

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Story Saturday: Something in the Fog

Photo Credit: Pixabay Free Images

This story is taken from the prompt created by Liam J Cross Writing & Editing:

There is a lot to learn from inquisitiveness. And as you look through the binoculars, you find out just how much.

***

It was just a stupid dare.

I was visiting a friend who lived near the coast.  Crissy.  We hadn’t seen each other since high school.  I was on break from college, and she had a day off from work.

We were on our way to town when she took a detour out in the middle of nowhere.

“Hey, where are we going?” I asked.

“There’s someplace I want to show you first.” She said.

And pulled off the graveled road.  All I saw was this open grassy meadow only I couldn’t see very far as it was covered in this heavy fog.  In the distance I could hear a low roar.

“Is that the ocean I hear?” I asked.

“Yep.” Crissy replied.

“So, why are we here?”

“There’s this local urban legend about this place.” She said.

Oh, great.  She hadn’t changed much at all since high school.

“Crissy, I don’t want to do this.” I remembered all too well the last time she did this to me.

“No worries, Bec.  I promise you won’t end up in the ER this time.” She smiled.

I rolled my eyes at her, and then let out a loud sigh.  “I give up. What’s this local urban legend?”

“Some years ago, twenty I think, police picked up a man roaming this field.” She began. “He was shoeless, and mumbling about a girl haunting him.  After further prodding, the police learned that a year prior this man had kidnapped a girl, raped and then killed her, and dumped her body into the ocean nearby.  He claimed that every night since she would climb up out of the ocean, and go after him in his dreams.  He returned to look for her body, but couldn’t find it.  He begged the police to help.”

Crissy paused, and looked over at me.

“Did the police help him?”

“Yes, they called in a crime unit to search up and down the coast, but they never found a body.”

“And what happened to the man?”

“The police had him committed to a psyche ward.” Crissy said. “He died a few months later. He was found in bed, strangled to death.”

“Creepy.” I said.

“Yeah.  They say that if you come to this place on a foggy day, and look towards the ocean, you may see a girl climb up from the ledge, and then disappear in to the fog.”

“Oh?”

“Here.” She handed me a pair of binoculars. “I dare you to look.”

“This is crazy, Cris.”

“I double dare you.” She said with a grin.

I yanked the item from her hands. “For the record, I didn’t want to do this.”

“Be a good sport.” She said.

“Whatever.” I muttered and looked through the binoculars.  All I saw was this thick white mist, and nothing beyond. “I can’t see a thing.  Now, can we go?”

“You didn’t even really try.” She said. “Scared you’ll actually see something?”

“No, just bored.”

“Try harder.”

This damn girl…if she wasn’t a friend…

“I hate you.” I said, and stormed away and out in to the meadow.

I walked until I was completely enveloped in the mist.  The roaring now much louder.  I dared not to venture any further for fear of falling off the ledge.

Crissy loved doing these sort of things to friends.  She get off on them mostly by our reactions.   Being the only child, I’m sure she did these kinds of stuff for attention since her parents rarely paid any to her.

I took a deep breath, and looked through the binoculars once more.

This time the fog diminished just before the drop off to the expansive ocean where the rolling gray water spread as far as the eyes could see until it met the sky.

I saw nothing else.

Yet, I couldn’t remove the binoculars from my eyes as I continued to stare out towards the horizon.  Morbid curiosity pulsed through me as I remained rooted to the spot.

I closed my eyes for a moment.

One more look and then I’ll head back to the car.

Opening my eyes, I scanned the view ahead.

Oh, crap.

A pair of dirtied hands appeared on the ledge, grasping at grass and dirt.

Something in the Fog photo-1503925802536-c9451dcd87b5

Photo Credit: unsplash.com

 

My god…oh my god…

My hands shook as the binoculars shuttered on my face and the view blurred.

No, I don’t want to see her face.

I spun around and jogged back to the car.  Crissy sat on top of the hood. I could see a smirk forming on her mouth.

“See something?”

I shove the binoculars at her. “Yeah. Now it’s time to go.”

 

 

 

Story Sunday: The Moments Before

Photo Credit: Pixabay Free Images

 

 

The fire is consuming the world.

Yet, here I stand, in a place still untouched.

I inhale the sweet breath of nature.  Not a scent of smoke or sulfur…for now.

The sun rays dash between the gray billows of the reddening sky.   I spy a pair of sea gulls interweaving with one another near a calm lake.

It’s the silence before chaos.

My legs are quivering.  The need to flee filling my essence.

To where?

Flames and oceans of lava are bludgeoning everything, and soon even this tiny haven will be claimed by their instinctual desire to burn all to ashes.

Of all the ways to die…

Oh, to fly high like the birds, to outrun the hell that’s swiftly coming my way.

It’s not death that I fear.

No, it’s the thought of the agony of my flesh melting and sliding off my bones while I’m still alive.

For days, I have tried to outrun this terrible destiny, but now there is no where else to hide to.

A gentle breeze caresses my wet skin, cooling on contact as I stifle a shiver.  Closing my eyes, the melodious cries of birds drift through me.

Have mercy…let it be quick.


 

 

 

 

The Unknown (Micro-Story)

Creepy eye and road-3298889_1280 Pixabay Free Images

Photo Credit: Pixabay Free Images

 

Somewhere down that road, is the unknown.

The heavy mist conceals its true nature.

All I know is that anyone who enters, never comes back.

What lies in there?

My mind races with possibilities.

None of them, good.

Morbid curiosity now getting the best of me.

Without consulting, my feet begin to move…towards it.

The threshold nearing, my heart’s racing.

A part of me doesn’t want to go in there…the words raging in my mind like a siren:

No, no, no!

Yet, there’s this quiet voice, beckoning me on.

Why do you think people don’t return? Perhaps they did NOT want to.

Yes, that must be it.  I want to see what they’re seeing.

I’m standing in front of the murky barrier.  It’s cool breaths radiating over my body.

Just one step, and I’ll be there.

But…

Like a plant, I’m rooted to the spot.

My chest hurts.  My head, throbs.

A hand reaches out as I watch my fingers disappear into the whiteness.

Icy cold as a shiver pulses through me, rattling my teeth.

I close my eyes and a gentle tug on the hand slowly propels me forward.

This is it.  I will soon see what’s on the other side.

I notice the voices are now silent. I should feel relieved.  At peace.

Why don’t I?

My body now completely immerses in the mist, its wetness trickles over the exposed skin.

I hear sounds.  Loud muffled sounds.  They drum through my chest like a separate heart beat.

Music? A thunderous water fall?

My ears popped as if the plugs are pulled and the sounds grow clearer.

Screams.

Not music nor a water fall.

Something’s creeping up my body.  They feel like hot tendrils with claws.

Every outward sound melts in to a deafening silence.

Until…

All I can hear are my own screams.

 


 

Want to see this in a video format?  Click HERE.

 

 

 

 

#Poetry: Desolation

 

Desolation

 

Even tho the sun shines,

I feel no warmth

 

While the moon rises at night,

my eyes are shuttered against its rays

 

My heart’s hard and

the red fluid of my flesh runs cold

 

I long for the quickening

of my essence once more

 

But all I see is darkness

and the way back now forever shut

 

 

#Writing is a Journey

P

Photo Credit: Pixabay Free Images CCO

 

You may have noticed a few subtle changes on this blog.  One’s the color.  The other is the name.

Since 2007, I’ve been blogging and (seriously) writing, and have used “a writer and her adolescent muse” as a title because I was still exploring genres and forms to see which were the best fit for me.

It’s now 2018 and I believe I’m close to the answers  I’ve been seeking.

Close.

I enjoy writing horror and dark stories and dark poetry.  And I plan to continue. As for writing books, I will be focusing on inspirational romance-suspense.  Hence, the name change of this blog to A writer and her sentimental muse to reflect this shift.

I also have a memoir in me that wants to be written.  This will be titled, The Whispering Shadows.  I already have a blog by that name, and will be revamping it in the near future to start the memoir.  I will share more on this in the future.

Sunday Story: The Vanishing

Click on image for original story

*Author’s Note: I wrote this short story over five years ago.  It’s dark.  It’s creepy.  It’s one of my secular, mainstream stories that I decided NOT to submit for publication now on Wattpad. 

 

Story Blurb:

Leesa, a mother and wife, contemplates on the undesirable state of her life…but one should be careful, you might just get what you wished for in the most unexpected of ways.

 

Shadows wavered in the expansive backyard as the woman peered through the round window in front of her.  The reflection within the twilight didn’t reveal a happy face.  The skin under her brown eyes, fixed on the deck that spread beneath the small set of panes, sagged with a purplish hue.  Premature wrinkles lined her eyes and mouth.  No, she definitely wasn’t a happy person.  Her hands mindlessly moved each dish from the stainless steel sink, rinsed under cool water, and then carefully placed in the racks of the dishwasher.  She then reached for the knife and grabbed the wrong end.

“Damn it!”  She recoiled and placed the bleeding finger into her mouth.

Nope, it’s been the week from hell, and this was just another reminder that it hasn’t end yet.

Voices drifted into the room from a nearby television.

“Here are our top news of the hour.” A male news anchor said. “State and Federal law officials are investigating multiple cases involving children who have gone missing in the past three days. In every cases, each child reported to have disappeared sometime between bedtime and morning…”

“Frank.” She turned her head towards the living room. “Please turn it to something else.”

“Yes, dear.” A man’s voice said.

A click sounded and a commercial about a brand of soda came on.  She went back to rinsing a coffee mug with the uninjured hand when the floor board creaked.  She turned and smiled at her four-year old daughter who stood, wearing a pink nightgown, at the entrance of the kitchen.

Renee.  The small child was the only source of joy in her otherwise joyless life.

“What’s the matter, Renee? Did you have a bad dream?”

The girl shook her head, locks of blonde curls waved over her petite shoulders. “No, mummy.”

Mother picked up a towel to dry her hands. “What’s wrong then?

“There’s a boogeyman in my room.”

Click here to read rest of the story on Wattpad…

 


 

 

I have two other short stories also on Wattpad.  These two have been previously published.

His world was ending. How will he choose to go out? (Click on image to read the story)

Four college-aged people are dead on an island. The killer? Unknown, but definitely not human. Anna Mae Hart and her partner are called to help with the investigation and things get bloody from there. (Click on image for story)

 

 

 

#IWSG: Why I Love #Romance

Click on the image to access this group’s official page

 

Question for this month: What do you love about the genre you write in most often?

 

 

When I discovered writing as a girl, my first story I ever wrote was horror.  Ever since then, I’ve mostly wrote horror stories, or dark fantasy, or dark poetry.  Nothing truly had a happy ending.

Was this how I really felt about life in general?

Yeah, for a long time, I did.

But, there was always this other side of me that dared to hope, and dream, and wonder about the magical and beautiful aspects of life; and many times these involved this concept called…love.

I’ve always enjoyed reading both fantasy and horror books.

Romance novels?  I devoured them.  I never could get enough.  It was a wonderful feeling when you get to the end of a book, and there’s a happy ending!

Real life doesn’t always have a happy ending.  In fact, for many there’s only sadness and pain and emptiness.  It’s nice to be able to open up a book and get lost in it, in another person’s life, and be able to feel what they feel, and experience what they experience, and leave your own unhappy reality behind for a while.

These are some of the reasons why I love the Romance genre.  And why I’ve decided to write in this genre for my very first book.

What about you?  Which genre do you enjoy most, and why?

Writing: Favorite Story Type

Gabriela covers the story types in chapter eleven in her DIY MFA Book. Just click on the image for the book.

In this prompt: “Are you like me and a sucker for underdog stories? Do you love that classic boy-meets-girl Rom-Com formula? Are you crazy for epic quests about heroes saving the world? For today’s prompt, tell us which story type you love and why.”

Oh, this one is so tough as I enjoy all of them!  My writing background, so far, has been horror short stories (where many times the protagonist does NOT survive or win in the end), dark poetry, and dark fantasy stories (these would include the epic quest types).  Now that I’m thinking of it, for some reason, I’ve yet to complete a fantasy story.  Well, I do know the reason.  The stories tend to grow too big, too complicated, and overwhelm me to the point that I stop writing them.  These have all been written in the serial-format.  I’ve come to a realization that perhaps serial fiction may not be for me.  Not at this time anyway.

The only romance story I’ve written is a screenplay (“Storms of the Heart”) which I will be converting to a book this year.  This one has comedic scenes throughout, but probably not enough to be truly called a “rom-com.”   There are dramatic parts, and suspense too.  The heroine has both internal and external conflicts to wrestle with.  It’s a love story, and it’s a survival story.  It’s a story that keeps pestering me since it’s birth back in 2008.  It’s a story that will deal with PTSD.  And losses.

It’s the type of story that has won my heart.  And it is the one I will write in the coming months ahead.

So, to answer the prompt question above.  The type of story I love most is the survivalist kind, the underdog where the conflict/antagonist that the protagonist has to face is so much stronger than she is, but she’s determined to survive.  And this particular story also has a love story intertwined which makes it all the more endearing since I love watching something bloom between two people in-spite of all the roadblocks standing in their way.

Why this type?  Probably because I consider myself a survivor.  I’ve been an underdog all my life.  And I’m still fighting, and I suppose I always will, but that’s fine.  I don’t think I would have it any other way.  🙂