The pounding rain echoed his question, "why?” Why did she leave, taking all of the laughter and warmth with her? A vacuum of loneliness was left. Why did the flowers on the table still bloom, showing that beauty still existed in such a dark space?

He pressed his forehead against the window, watching his teardrops merge with raindrops.

A bird landed on the windowsill, feathers ruffled, seeking shelter. He opened the window, and in that shared moment of vulnerability, found an answer-"To make space for new beginnings."

Dr. Smith tried to keep a smile on her face, her pen hovering above the notepad. "And you say these urges are what brought you here?"

Across the desk, Ethan shrugged, "I can't help it. They're like whispers in my head."

Smith’s pen resumed, but this time a little more nervously. She asked, "you've acted on these urges?"

Ethan's smile slowly returned with a chill. "Oh yes, many times."

The next thing Dr. Smith knew, a cold hand had clamped around her wrist. Ethan's eyes, once vacant, now gleamed with a predatory light. "The whispers are telling me you’re next.”

The pen fell to the floor as Smith attempted to scream. Ethan had wrapped his hand around her windpipe, silencing her.

"Hush, I’m hearing the whispers.”

Her lifeless body fell to the floor. Ethan straightened, his smile widening. The whispers had grown louder.

Alone in the secluded cabin, Sarah lay sound asleep until the rustling leaves stirred her awake. The wind howled outside, trying to hide the sound of unknown footsteps pacing outside. Fear entered her heart. At first she hesitated, then peeked through the frosted window. The cabin’s outside light created shadows that concealed the figure in the whirling snow. A silhouette appeared. Was it a mysterious wanderer, a mythical Bigfoot, or a mere woodland creature? With pounding heartbeats, she wrapped herself tighter in her blanket, unable to move because of the mystery that lingered outside.

He awoke to the sounds of creaking floorboards. “It sounds like someone walking around in the living room,” he thought. He remembered the aluminum bat he had under his bed. “Thank God,” he thought. He reached under his bed searching for the bat. It was a 30-inch aluminum little league bat he bought at a garage sale.

He grabbed hold of the top of the bat and slowly withdrew it. He rolled back over and clutched the handle with his right hand with all his strength. If he could see his knuckles around the bat, he’d notice how white they were.

He slowly rose from his bed and made his way to the entryway of the bedroom and froze. He brought the bat up from his side and held it with one hand next to his head, ready to take a swing. He stood, listening for any sign of movement coming down the hall. He glanced over at his sleeping wife, “thank God she’s still asleep,” he thought.

He turned the corner from his bedroom and slowly made his way down the hall toward the living room. He was in a batter's stance as he eased down the hallway, leading with his left shoulder, ready to take a swing as if he were in the batter’s box.

The stairs creaked. “He’s going downstairs,” he thought. He began to slowly move down the hallway again toward the living room, bat cocked in the ready position. Scanning the room, he noticed nothing had been moved. Everything, as far as he could tell, was in its place. The furniture hadn’t been moved. The lamps were all in place. Nothing was different. “The intruder must be downstairs” he reasoned. He moved out into the living room. He could hear feet shuffling on the floor downstairs.

He made his way over to one of the lamps in the living room, reached under the shade and turned the switch. The lamp clicked on. There was no response from downstairs. “Perhaps they hadn’t seen the light,” he thought. He went over the stairway light and flipped the switch, illuminating the stairway and part of the downstairs family room. Still nothing. Was he greatly mistaken? Were the events of the night all in his head? Was there an intruder in his home?

He slowly made his way down the stairs and flipped a switch, turning on the ceiling lamp. There was no one here. It was at the moment he let out a sigh of relief that he heard the sliding closet door in the spare bedroom close.

He took a moment to listen carefully for any movement from inside the closet, nothing. With a swoosh, he slid the door open. He opened it so hard that it made a loud bang against the opposing wall. There was nothing. He stared at the inside of an empty closet. “Wow, I really must be losing it,” he whispered to himself.

Just as he finished the thought and turned around, his eyes fell upon a figure, all in black from head to toe. A black ski mask covered the face. Shocked, he jumped back while at the same time taking a swing with his bat. The first swing missed the intruder, but the swing that followed found its mark, striking the intruder on the side of the head, stunning the figure, causing him to stumble.

He didn’t wait for the intruder to gain his composure, he swung a third time and a fourth. The sounds of an aluminum bat striking the skull echoed in the room. Again and again he swung, the bat finding its mark each time. But the intruder didn’t go down, instead, merely stumbling around the room. He paused for a moment, out of breath from the attack. “Oh my god, who is this guy?” The intruder was regaining his composure and coming at him, this time taking a knife from his pants pocket. Blood began soaking the intruder’s mask. The two eye holes and mouth openings revealed a blood-soaked face. One last swing sent the intruder crashing to the floor.

His next thought turned to his wife, surely all of the noise had awakened her. He turned and ran up the stairs. The intruder greeted him. “What the…,” he yelled! Just as the intruder took one step toward him, he swung his bat. Blood splattered from the openings of the mask, covering the room. He mustered up all the strength he had for one last swing. The bat found its mark on the side of the intruder’s head, “home run!” he yelled. With that swing, the intruder fell to the floor.

He ran into the bedroom to find, to his surprise, that his wife lay in the bed, sleeping. “How could she sleep through all of that?” he wondered. He called her name. She didn’t move. He went to her, still calling her name. She rolled over, revealing to his horror that she was wearing the blood soaked mask of the intruder!

The next thing he knew he was sitting up in his bed covered in a cold sweat, gasping for breath. “I had a nightmare, it was all a nightmare,” he said aloud. He turned on the light to reveal the horrifying truth. Between himself and his wife lay the aluminum bat. The bat was covered with blood.

Startled, he jumped out of bed, calling for his wife, but she did not answer. He looked down to see his blood soaked chest and hands. His face felt wet.

Touching his face and looking at his hands revealed that they were covered in blood too. The bed was covered in blood. The wall nearest his wife was splattered in blood. He ran over to her side of the bed and saw, staring at the wall, was his wife’s bludgeoned head.

Intruder

Horror

Adult

977 words

Stephen Mosley

California

Interested in horror/mystery/sci-fi

Master's Degree

He awoke to the sounds of creaking floorboards. “It sounds like someone walking around in the living room,” he thought. He remembered the aluminum bat he had under his bed. “Thank God,” he thought. He reached under his bed searching for the bat. It was a 30-inch aluminum little league bat he bought at a garage sale.

He grabbed hold of the top of the bat and slowly withdrew it. He rolled back over and clutched the handle with his right hand with all his strength. If he could see his knuckles around the bat, he’d notice how white they were.

He slowly rose from his bed and made his way to the entryway of the bedroom and froze. He brought the bat up from his side and held it with one hand next to his head, ready to take a swing. He stood, listening for any sign of movement coming down the hall. He glanced over at his sleeping wife, “thank God she’s still asleep,” he thought.

He turned the corner from his bedroom and slowly made his way down the hall toward the living room. He was in a batter's stance as he eased down the hallway, leading with his left shoulder, ready to take a swing as if he were in the batter’s box.

The stairs creaked. “He’s going downstairs,” he thought. He began to slowly move down the hallway again toward the living room, bat cocked in the ready position. Scanning the room, he noticed nothing had been moved. Everything, as far as he could tell, was in its place. The furniture hadn’t been moved. The lamps were all in place. Nothing was different. “The intruder must be downstairs” he reasoned. He moved out into the living room. He could hear feet shuffling on the floor downstairs.

He made his way over to one of the lamps in the living room, reached under the shade and turned the switch. The lamp clicked on. There was no response from downstairs. “Perhaps they hadn’t seen the light,” he thought. He went over the stairway light and flipped the switch, illuminating the stairway and part of the downstairs family room. Still nothing. Was he greatly mistaken? Were the events of the night all in his head? Was there an intruder in his home?

He slowly made his way down the stairs and flipped a switch, turning on the ceiling lamp. There was no one here. It was at the moment he let out a sigh of relief that he heard the sliding closet door in the spare bedroom close.

He took a moment to listen carefully for any movement from inside the closet, nothing. With a swoosh, he slid the door open. He opened it so hard that it made a loud bang against the opposing wall. There was nothing. He stared at the inside of an empty closet. “Wow, I really must be losing it,” he whispered to himself.

Just as he finished the thought and turned around, his eyes fell upon a figure, all in black from head to toe. A black ski mask covered the face. Shocked, he jumped back while at the same time taking a swing with his bat. The first swing missed the intruder, but the swing that followed found its mark, striking the intruder on the side of the head, stunning the figure, causing him to stumble.

He didn’t wait for the intruder to gain his composure, he swung a third time and a fourth. The sounds of an aluminum bat striking the skull echoed in the room. Again and again he swung, the bat finding its mark each time. But the intruder didn’t go down, instead, merely stumbling around the room. He paused for a moment, out of breath from the attack. “Oh my god, who is this guy?” The intruder was regaining his composure and coming at him, this time taking a knife from his pants pocket. Blood began soaking the intruder’s mask. The two eye holes and mouth openings revealed a blood-soaked face. One last swing sent the intruder crashing to the floor.

His next thought turned to his wife, surely all of the noise had awakened her. He turned and ran up the stairs. The intruder greeted him. “What the…,” he yelled! Just as the intruder took one step toward him, he swung his bat. Blood splattered from the openings of the mask, covering the room. He mustered up all the strength he had for one last swing. The bat found its mark on the side of the intruder’s head, “home run!” he yelled. With that swing, the intruder fell to the floor.

He ran into the bedroom to find, to his surprise, that his wife lay in the bed, sleeping. “How could she sleep through all of that?” he wondered. He called her name. She didn’t move. He went to her, still calling her name. She rolled over, revealing to his horror that she was wearing the blood soaked mask of the intruder!

The next thing he knew he was sitting up in his bed covered in a cold sweat, gasping for breath. “I had a nightmare, it was all a nightmare,” he said aloud. He turned on the light to reveal the horrifying truth. Between himself and his wife lay the aluminum bat. The bat was covered with blood. Startled, he jumped out of bed, calling for his wife, but she did not answer. He looked down to see his blood soaked chest and hands. His face felt wet.

Touching his face and looking at his hands revealed that they were covered in blood too. The bed was covered in blood. The wall nearest his wife was splattered in blood. He ran over to her side of the bed and saw, staring at the wall, was his wife’s bludgeoned head.

He awoke to the sounds of creaking floorboards. “It sounds like someone walking around in the living room,” he thought. He remembered the aluminum bat he had under his bed. “Thank God,” he thought. He reached under his bed searching for the bat. It was a 30-inch aluminum little league bat he bought at a garage sale.

He grabbed hold of the top of the bat and slowly withdrew it. He rolled back over and clutched the handle with his right hand with all his strength. If he could see his knuckles around the bat, he’d notice how white they were.

He slowly rose from his bed and made his way to the entryway of the bedroom and froze. He brought the bat up from his side and held it with one hand next to his head, ready to take a swing. He stood, listening for any sign of movement coming down the hall. He glanced over at his sleeping wife, “thank God she’s still asleep,” he thought.

He turned the corner from his bedroom and slowly made his way down the hall toward the living room. He was in a batter's stance as he eased down the hallway, leading with his left shoulder, ready to take a swing as if he were in the batter’s box.

The stairs creaked. “He’s going downstairs,” he thought. He began to slowly move down the hallway again toward the living room, bat cocked in the ready position. Scanning the room, he noticed nothing had been moved. Everything, as far as he could tell, was in its place. The furniture hadn’t been moved. The lamps were all in place. Nothing was different. “The intruder must be downstairs” he reasoned. He moved out into the living room. He could hear feet shuffling on the floor downstairs.

He made his way over to one of the lamps in the living room, reached under the shade and turned the switch. The lamp clicked on. There was no response from downstairs. “Perhaps they hadn’t seen the light,” he thought. He went over the stairway light and flipped the switch, illuminating the stairway and part of the downstairs family room. Still nothing. Was he greatly mistaken? Were the events of the night all in his head? Was there an intruder in his home?

He slowly made his way down the stairs and flipped a switch, turning on the ceiling lamp. There was no one here. It was at the moment he let out a sigh of relief that he heard the sliding closet door in the spare bedroom close.

He took a moment to listen carefully for any movement from inside the closet, nothing. With a swoosh, he slid the door open. He opened it so hard that it made a loud bang against the opposing wall. There was nothing. He stared at the inside of an empty closet. “Wow, I really must be losing it,” he whispered to himself.

Just as he finished the thought and turned around, his eyes fell upon a figure, all in black from head to toe. A black ski mask covered the face. Shocked, he jumped back while at the same time taking a swing with his bat. The first swing missed the intruder, but the swing that followed found its mark, striking the intruder on the side of the head, stunning the figure, causing him to stumble.

He didn’t wait for the intruder to gain his composure, he swung a third time and a fourth. The sounds of an aluminum bat striking the skull echoed in the room. Again and again he swung, the bat finding its mark each time. But the intruder didn’t go down, instead, merely stumbling around the room. He paused for a moment, out of breath from the attack. “Oh my god, who is this guy?” The intruder was regaining his composure and coming at him, this time taking a knife from his pants pocket. Blood began soaking the intruder’s mask. The two eye holes and mouth openings revealed a blood-soaked face. One last swing sent the intruder crashing to the floor.

His next thought turned to his wife, surely all of the noise had awakened her. He turned and ran up the stairs. The intruder greeted him. “What the…,” he yelled! Just as the intruder took one step toward him, he swung his bat. Blood splattered from the openings of the mask, covering the room. He mustered up all the strength he had for one last swing. The bat found its mark on the side of the intruder’s head, “home run!” he yelled. With that swing, the intruder fell to the floor.

He ran into the bedroom to find, to his surprise, that his wife lay in the bed, sleeping. “How could she sleep through all of that?” he wondered. He called her name. She didn’t move. He went to her, still calling her name. She rolled over, revealing to his horror that she was wearing the blood soaked mask of the intruder!

The next thing he knew he was sitting up in his bed covered in a cold sweat, gasping for breath. “I had a nightmare, it was all a nightmare,” he said aloud. He turned on the light to reveal the horrifying truth. Between himself and his wife lay the aluminum bat. The bat was covered with blood. Startled, he jumped out of bed, calling for his wife, but she did not answer. He looked down to see his blood soaked chest and hands. His face felt wet. Touching his face and looking at his hands revealed that they were covered in blood too. The bed was covered in blood. The wall nearest his wife was splattered in blood. He ran over to her side of the bed and saw, staring at the wall, was his wife’s bludgeoned head.

In the dimly lit restaurant, Harry and Sally sat across from each other at a table, exchanging jokes. But there was tension in the air. Sally's laughter echoed eerily through the room, sending shivers down Harry's spine. Suddenly, Sally's face contorted into an expression of sheer terror, her eyes turning pitch black. A demonic voice escaped her lips as she pointed a trembling finger at Harry, accusing him of being a monster.

The surrounding patrons gasped, their faces twisted in horror as they realized they must kill the beast. They descended upon Harry, tearing him apart with their bare hands. Harry’s blood covered the floor of the diner. Harry was no more.

I am the Morgue, a place shrouded in an eerie silence. I am the final resting place for those who have taken their last breath, a witness to the nature of life. Within my cold walls, emotions cease to exist. All that remains is a solemn melancholy that hangs heavy in the air.

Countless souls have graced my presence, each with their own stories. Some have the marks of tragedy and violence. Some have the remnants of a life cut short. Others are a testament to the passage of time, having lived a long life. There are those who succumbed to illness, their final moments consumed by pain, and those whose lives were snuffed out in unforeseen accidents.

I have seen it all - the faces of the young and old, the rich and poor. I have welcomed victims of war and the victims of natural disasters. I have housed the famous and the nameless as well as the good and bad. I treat them all with the same impartiality.

I feel a connection to those who have passed through my doors. I am a silent confidant to those within my walls, aware of secrets that will never be spoken. I hold all of their stories within me. And as the days turn into years, my walls stand witness to the never ending cycle of life.

My October,

Words fail to express the warmth and affection I hold for you. In the tapestry of the year, you stand out like a vibrant thread, embracing everything I adore. With each passing year, my love for you deepens, and my gratitude for your existence grows.

With you, the world around me transforms into a breathtaking canvas, as golden leaves are pushed by the breeze. The trees, once green, now paint the sky with amber. The crispness in the air fills my soul.

The days shorten. The sun's warm glow embraces me, while the cool nights comfort me. October, you soothe my spirit.

Halloween accompanies your arrival, filling my heart with joy. The streets come alive with the laughter of costume wearing children. It is a time for pumpkin patches and apple cider, for carving jack-o'-lanterns and savoring sweet treats.

Through the falling leaves you remind me that change is inevitable, shedding old leaves to make room for new possibilities. Through the change of the season, you invite me to look to the future. With a smile I take your hand and willingly follow your lead.

October, you are my trusty companion. You always captivate me with your charm and allure. I am grateful for each moment we share, for you remind me to cherish the fleeting beauty of life and to look forward to what the future may bring.

With all my love,

Stephen

One fateful day, a horde of metallic spaceships darkened the Earth's blue sky. The alien force arrived unannounced, their intentions veiled in their eerie silence. Earth was left to wonder as efforts to communicate with the invaders went unanswered.

The world's armies united, firing a series of missiles at the invaders, only to witness them dissolve mid-air, leaving no trace of their existence. The invaders retaliated, releasing a beam of light that turned everything it touched to dust. Panic ensued, chaos reigned, and the once bustling earth fell into an eerie silence, succumbing to the defeat.

As humanity's end neared, the alien ships concentrated their firepower on the Earth's moon. The moon began to break up and the pieces plummeted toward the Earth. The sky, once a symbol of infinity and hope was filled with falling fragments of the moon. People watched in horror, their hearts sinking with every impact on the Earth's surface. The sky that was once full of stars and dreams, was now a menacing entity, falling upon them. Their last sight was of the descending fragments. The final chapter of human history started with humanity's last words, "and then, the sky fell."