The Fingers of Darkness

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
Read and let your darkerside take over MAHAHA. lol

Submitted: April 02, 2007

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Submitted: April 02, 2007



The Fingers of Darkness:

Allow me to introduce you to yourself.Your name is Orlanda Dempster, the year 1812, you are in England.  You find yourself in what seems to you to be a castle.  Please, indulge your morbid thoughts and let your imaginations run wild…

 In this room, the air is still and you choke of dusty breaths of stale recycled oxygen.  You are alone but yet you hear voices.  “It is jus the wind,” you tell yourself, but listen to what the wind is saying to you;  it is telling a gruesome tale of days long gone past, of romance and corruption and yes even murder.  This talking wind moans with sadness as it tells you secrets long forgotten by most and wails in sorrow of the memories that are not your own. 

 “What am I doing?” you ask yourself with some shame, my imagination is much too vivid for my own good.  You hear something scurrying away from the sound of your voice…in silent horror you think, “A RAT!?”

 The silence of the small dusty room is now broken with squeaking and scurrying of the feet of many rats. 

 You must get out of this room, away from this choking air, and this thick darkness that caresses you, and from these rats.

 You through yourself against the door, which will not budge, it remains locked and you can barely breathe.A wave of claustrophobia washes over you and you try to scream, but no sound escapes your lips, the silence returns.

 You hear a sound or did you imagine it?

 The darkness touches your face and you gasp but only seem to breathe it in.  That noise you hear it again, closer this time. Though the darkness you can see a mere shadow approaches you.

 “Who’s there?” you ask in a terrified moan. 

 “A friend of Darkness,”

 “Who’s there?” you ask again, but this time you can see for yourself; it is a man in fancy suit.  He grabs your arm and you struggle to get away from him…he is so close you can smell his breath…you struggle again but his grasp holds true. 

“What are you doing in my house?”  he asks, his voices runs shivers down your spine.

 “I do not know!  I am sorry, PLEASE let me go!” you beg him.

 “Did you hear anything, unusual?”

 “Only the wind,” you reply.

 “Then why did you try to scream?”

 “How did you know that?” you ask with growing alarm.

 “Because, I have been here the whole time, watching you, waiting for the perfect moment…”

 You cannot force yourself to ask him, the perfect moment for what.

He laughs if you could call it that, its more of an evil chuckle and asks, “Scared?”

 No words come to answer him and you cannot move to nod.

 “The wind?!” he laughs again, “My dear Lady, what you foolishly thought was the winds was really the last story of a dieing man.”  You hear a match being struck, and you do scream as you are thrown from the grip of this madman to stare into the eyes cold empty eyes of a dead man. 

 Your fear turns to rage and you ask, “WHY?”

 “Because it had to be… My Dear I have some sad news for you.”

 Your fear returns and you remain silent as he grabs your arm again.

 Nearly choking on his laughter he said, “You are next.”  He reaches for your throat, you feel the pressure of his fingers, you gasp and choke, your eyes begin to bulge…

 When you wake up… You cannot believe that it was all just a dream;  you can still see it, smell  it, feel it, and even taste it…Was it just a dream, at all?

© Copyright 2018 Winged Stober. All rights reserved.

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