Thing in the night part 2

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
Harold Jennings thought that his life was pretty good... Until he had his dream.

Submitted: January 22, 2014

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Submitted: January 22, 2014

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Thing in the night

Part 2

Death's perfume

By: Benjerman Blankhart 


Harold's dream was Dark and Demonic. His eyes shifted behind his eyelids frantically, sweat glistened and soiled his pillow covers. His body kept convulsing. Angrily jerking in short spasms. 
In his dream Harold was on a boat in the middle of a lake. Mist was settled just above the water obscuring any vision farther than Ten feet. He looked around at the water and watched the waves ripple across the surface. "Save me!"  
Harold's whole body tensed. The voice sounded soft like a whisper and distinctly female. "Save me Harold!"
Squinting through the mist, Harold's eyes could faintly see a small glow about 100 yards or so away. "Harold... I love you!" The voice seemed to be drifting away becoming softer and softer. The light finally vanished all together and Harold could no longer see anything but mist. Moments passed when he heard a sniffle. The noise this time seemed to be coming from right next to him. Jerking he looked around but saw nothing. The sniffle came again followed by a sob. 
Harold had no idea why he did what he did next. For some reason he felt guilty for the girl crying as if it was his fault. A hard knock came from under the boat making Harold jump. His heart was racing in his throat, his mind was working furiously and screaming. "Get the fuck out of here!" Something made him do it. He did not know why. He did not know how. But he did it. Reaching slowly for the edge of the boat a glanced over and into the water. 
At the bottom was a light. The same one from the whispering girl. And next to the light sat a small figure in a princess outfit. Her back was facing toward Harold. He tried to cry out but his voice was refusing to work. His mind was now pumping thoughts of escaping. Harold couldn't help but stare as the little girl stopped crying and slowly turned her head. Harold was at the brink of years by the shear terror he felt when his eyes studied the face of the little girl in the princess dress. Or what she had of a face. Where the face should've been instead had a film of skin. Just thin enough to make out the eyes and the screaming lips. The skin looked as if it were suffocating her. The girl held Harold's gaze as she reached up and began to peel the skin off. For a moment blood pooled to the top of the water. Then a head appeared from the middle of it. Harold felt the warm tears stream down his cheeks  "leave me the fuck alone!" He screamed. He hated this girl. It was t her. He would never love something so horrible. 
Margaret's mouth opened wider and wider until the corners of the mouth was beginning to tear. 
Suddenly something slammed against him and a jolted awake. 
"Oh Harold it's horrible!" Margret had her face buried in his chest and violently shaking.  
"What is it dear? What's wrong?" 
"It's Ralph."
That was all that escaped her lips before Harold was up and grabbing his rifle. "Stay here!" He told Margret as he headed into the guest bedroom. He slammed open the door but it was vacant. Only a couple of beer cans were strewn across the floor. Harold began to get worried. Ralph may be a drunken ol' Fool, but he was a good friend of his since when they were small farm boys. "Ralph!" He yelled. But to this there was no reply. He began to head down the stairs and into the kitchen. Still nothing. Then he toured into the living room where the radio was still playing. The station had shut off long ago, going to sleep most likely, leaving just a static noise. Walking over he turned the knob until he heard a click shutting it off. 
That was when he heard the creaking noise from the porch. Bringing his rifle up Harold walked to the front door. It was slightly ajar and already he could see a pool of blood on the other side. Opening the door Harold broke. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. Who could do this? Who could do something so black and heartless to a guy like Ralph? Harold fell to his knee he cried. And he didnt stop crying until the police came and discarded the body. 
On the front side of the porch usually hangs a flower pot. Hanging from the ceiling so it would be reached by the rabbits and other pests. But tonight in its place was a body. 
Ralph's body. 
Or what's left of it.
The hook for the pot had been pressed through the back of the head leaving the front to stick out the mouth. Already something had feasted on his eyes. And all four limbs were detached. Discarded and chewed. The lower body had torn from the neck some, sliding down the spine and being held by only a few ligaments. 
Harold didn't thing this night could get any worse. 
Then Margret screamed. 

End of Part 2


© Copyright 2017 Benjerman Blankhart. All rights reserved.