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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: October 31, 2018

A A A | A A A

Submitted: October 31, 2018



As the trees outside moaned and groaned with the heavy wind, the leaves fell to the ground in blankets of spinning red, yellow and green. The cars still outside crunched over the leaves and creaked as they turned. A man walked down the path outside the old cottage on Windily Avenue, with a large trench coat pulled over his face. The wind attacked him, but the man pressed on. George, the boy who was alone in the cottage this Halloween, stared out the window at the chaos that made his parents leave to check on his grandparents, who were staying in town for a while. George rarely saw his grandparents, but when he did they usually stayed for a longer time. The man outside looked up at George’s house, almost in awe, and started to come closer to it. George knew what to do if the man rang the doorbell, and he knew to hide and make it look like no one was home, so he did. The man walked up to the house, looked as if he were going to ring the doorbell, then left. George, curious if the man was still there, came out from his hiding place to see the man walking away. George watched as the man walked down the path and left the view of the house. George, relieved, sat back and turned on the TV.


The TV blared and screamed as George turned through the channels, but all had the same report on the screen, a man looking very serious talking about George’s county, Hemford, and how a man was lose in the neighborhoods. He mentioned three avenues, Charlie Ave, Carver Ave, and Windily Ave. George felt dread almost immediately, then he realized that the man that came up to his house must have been the man the newsman was looking for. A list of crimes came up on the TV, all of which the man was responsible for. Armed robbery, petty theft, first and second degree murder, and then the screen blew up with murders. The man was a serial killer basically, the newsman said, and he was lose in the town. George turned off the TV and went to the porch. He couldn’t see anything now through the window, because the street light was dead, so George flicked on the porch light. As the light flickered on, George jumped back in fright as he say the man in the window, looking right at him! George stumbled back and ran through his house to the basement, where the panic room was. He climbed in and looked the door, but the room wasn’t sound proof. George heard his front door getting pounded, hit over and over again. The door started to crack and fall again, and suddenly a very heavy object hit the ground. The door! He heard heavy footsteps stomp through the house, and glass and other objects breaking. The man came stomping down into the basement, and started to walk slowly, slowly, closer and closer to the panic room door. He heard the man right next to the door, and he knocked.


“Come out…nothing will happen…”


George held his breathe and did nothing. He sat absolutely still. Then the man’s hand reached through the metal door and grabbed George then yanked him towards the door. But George didn’t go through. He was smacked against the metal door and knocked unconscious.


George woke up in a dark room, it looked like the panic room, but larger. There was many others in the room, but only one other was awake. The other person looked shocked, terrified, and most of all, insane. They looked about in a twitching manner, like a small bird, and their eyes focused on nothing for small periods of time, or maybe focusing on something than no one else could see. The person looked over to the person next to them in a way a wild animal would look at prey. The person woke up slightly, and the person started to yell.


“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! But I have to do this! I have to do this!”


Then the person grabbed a sharp stone and swung with it viciously at the barely awake man, who yelled and screamed in pain as the heavy stone struck him over and over again. Blood ran to the drain in the middle of the room and the man was killed. The screams woke everyone who wasn’t awake up, and they were horrified by the torn, bleeding man and the person next to him, yelling at them. Each one was chained to the wall, except for the one with the stone. Each met a similar death as the first one, each more numbing for George than the last. At last, it came to him, and George pleaded, but the person was unresponsive. They raised the stone, and George struck them in the stomach. The person dropped the stone, and George, realizing this was his only option, took the stone, and bashed the person’s head. Over and over, until he couldn’t anymore. Suddenly the door opened, and the killer came through.


“Congratulations, you are the last one standing. You have shown that if you have to, you will kill. I now am too well known in the world to attack anymore, but you can kill and not be noticed. So, if you accept, you will be my, how do you say, ‘messenger’.” He chuckled at his “joke” then continued, “Or, you can be left in this room forever, tortured by the bodies, and this door, which could open with me behind it, or another person fighting for their freedom, the choice is yours, George.”


To this day George wonders streets of towns on Halloween, looking for people to take his place. You wouldn’t recognize him, for years of torture are terrible on your appearance, but he is there, and here, and everywhere.

© Copyright 2019 Jack Garvey. All rights reserved.

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