Skip to main content

Everything about her was a lie

 Everything about her was a lie. At least, that’s what common sense told me.

There was absolutely no way that this woman was real. 


Her red hair flowed in the wind looking more like fire than the actual flames that devoured the structure of the house that surrounded us. Her porcelain skin reflected the flames as she reached her dainty hand out to me, silently telling me to grab onto her blood-stained flesh. Her eyes, though empty sockets, filled me with what I can only describe as an intense sense of peace.


Something had to be wrong here. My skeptic brain screamed at me as I reached out and allowed her to wrap her deathly cold fingers around my hand and pull me effortlessly out of the rubble that had trapped me for so long that I’d started losing feeling in my feet.


“Who-” I had so many questions for this strangely beautiful woman whom I now owed my life to.


She smiled a truly chilling smile, her red-painted lips curling up to reveal gnarled teeth that would be any dentist’s nightmare.


Then, she was gone, leaving only the chill from her touch lingering on my hand for way longer than what seemed possible.


“Over here! I heard a voice! There’s a survivor!” Rustling and voices started moving towards me, and my heart lept to my throat.


“I-I’m here! I’m here!” I called out as loud as I could to lead them to me.
Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Fine. You can make the coffee.

  The screeching of tires filled the air, shattering the calm that had previously enveloped the house. An ear-piercing scream was next, rattling the windows. Sticky wetness splattered against her skin and clothes.  This was probably the first time in her life she would ever be grateful she couldn’t see. It was the first time she wished she was deaf too, so she wouldn’t have to hear his nauseating scream-crying. A gasp escaped her lips as she woke. “Fuck…” she ran her fingers through her hair, sitting up, the silk blankets falling around her waist. Breathing out, she lowered her hand back to the bed. She swung her legs over the edge, slipping her feet into her slippers. She entered the kitchen and maneuvered to the coffee pot, but when she went to grab the pot, her hand only grabbed air. “Greg, you mother fucker!”  “Whu- Yeah?” Greg’s confused voice sounded from the couch. “Where is the coffee pot?” “Oh shit.” The rustling of jeans being put on while a grown man wa...
Post a Comment
Read more

To save his own life, he would have to kill

  To save his own life, he would have to kill. That’s what the game master had said. Arlo had been thinking about this, letting it stew in his mind for a very long time, and he’d finally come to a conclusion; the game master had never specified what exactly he had to kill. So now, here Arlo stood, anxiously waiting for the large, iron bars to slowly rise so he could enter the arena and see if he could get away with this. There came the thunderous applause, which was his cue to run into the arena and gather the attention of the audience, which he would really be relying on to help him survive. He was all too aware of the fact that having the audience’s favor usually secured your survival, and he needed all the help he could realistically get. The excited screaming of the audience, clearly fueled by alcohol, was easier than Arlo anticipated to bring to a decibel that felt like if it went on for too long, it could deafen a man, and more importantly, shook the arena a not-insignificant...
Post a Comment
Read more

It was time. She'd fought against it for so long

  It was time. She'd fought against it for so long, but now, she was putting her foot down. “John. You are absolutely not naming the baby; ‘Justin Thyme’. Please. I am begging. Stop with the joke names. You’re hurting me.” “I’m going to be a dad, Susan, I have to get my funny bones dusted off and oiled up. I’m all rusty from my years of being an edgy shut-in!”  While it was nice to see John glowing and having fun with life again, Susan could not help but wish he would stop with the puns, they were becoming a bit much. “I, for one,” Thomas butted in, bringing the teas into the room, “am a fan of waiting at least until we know the sex for the baby before we decide on a possible name for the gremlin.” John huffed. “You’re not any fun. You don’t have any names in your life that mean something to you, or that you’d always liked as an idea for a future child?” Thomas sat on the couch, blowing on his teacup in thought for a moment. “Well, to be honest, I never thought I’d make it t...
Post a Comment
Read more