Close to Midnight

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
Heading home from the cinema on Halloween Lee sees something that almost stops his heart.

Submitted: September 19, 2016

A A A | A A A

Submitted: September 19, 2016



Lee Cushing stepped out into the cold night with the rest of the cinema audience. While the others headed off into the darkness Lee crossed the road to the bus stop. He checked his watch. It was a few minutes before midnight.  The horror film had been good but he still felt a bit weirded out by the tension on screen. He just wanted to get home. He studied the timetable mounted on the post. He swore.  The last bus had been just after eleven. What about all those people across the city who were out after that? Cursing the morons that planned the bus times he trudged off in the direction of home.

A shiver went through him. Heading home alone through the darkness Lee felt like he was appearing in the opening scenes of a low budget horror film. He shook his head. He always did have an overactive imagination. The spooky feeling of the film must have still been in his mind. He hummed to himself and marched on down the street.

As short while later a fog descended. His breath hung on the air in front of him. The mist gave the empty midnight streets an eerie feel. He zipped his coat upto his chin and walked a little faster. He decided that if a taxi cab went by he would flag it down. He looked around. The road was empty. He tutted and carried on walking.

The sensation that he was in a horror film was compounded when he saw the cemetery up ahead. The cemetery looming in the red mist reminded Lee of a scene from a classic Hammer horror film. He could just imagine some monster prowling the graveyard. A sense of dread washed over him. He hurried past the wrought iron gates of the graveyard.

The scraping sound from behind stopped him in his tracks. His heart pounded in his chest. There was no doubt as to what the sound was. Someone was pushing their way through the cemetery gates. He turned to see who else would be out at this hour, in the fog, and leaving a graveyard of all places. What he saw almost stopped his heart. Spilling out of the gates and out onto the pavement were dozens of people. Or at least they looked like people. They stumbled as though they didn’t have complete control of their limbs. They waved their arms out in front of them, fingers grabbing and twitching.

Was this a Halloween party heading home? If so then the make up was fantastic. But no, somehow, he knew that this was no party, no trick. The creatures shuffled towards him. One of them, a man with dead eyes bulging, tongue hanging from his mouth, moaned as one of his rotten arms simply fell to the ground. The man trudged on towards him.

Lee turned and ran. What was going on? Could it be that this was an elaborate hoax? He didn’t know what was happening but he couldn’t wait around to find out. Some deep instinct kicked in. he had to get away. His feet pounded the pavement as he ran. He looked back. He stopped for a second and stared in fascination. Countless figures, these strange creatures, swarmed towards him through the fog. Their faces were blank and decomposing, their arms outstretched, fingers clawing at the air.

One of them seemed to be leading the others. He was at the head of the pack. The leader, his features rotting like the rest of the group, wore a tattered, torn red leather jacket. He was leading the stumbling group towards Lee. Lee thought that his face was familiar but instead of hanging around to ponder where he knew him from he ran through the night. He pushed on and on. His legs hurt as he ran on. He gulped at the air.

He turned a corner, breathing hard. He was sweating yet freezing cold. The fog had cleared. He paused to catch his breath. He looked around. He didn’t seem to be being followed any longer. He was outside an old fashioned cinema house. He noticed the poster advertising the Halloween film special. Thriller, said the blood red lettering. Staring back at him from the poster, wearing a torn leather jacket, was Michael Jackson.

© Copyright 2018 CTPlatt. All rights reserved.

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