Categories > Original > Horror
What Happens in a Small Town
0 reviewsA one-shot, attempt at a horror story for class assignment.
0Unrated
A/n This story was written for a class assignment. Sadly part of the assignment was that it had to be submitted somewhere... so enjoy:)I guess.
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Peeking around the gnarled tree behind which I hid, I identify something moving through the bushes, coupled with raspy and uneven breathing. It steps out from the undergrowth and the source of the sounds, a humanoid form, was wearing all black, along with an animal of some sort. I sink down in my hiding place and pulled the hood of my olive green jacket over my head, hoping to blend in more with the tree. Suddenly, as the shoes begin treading lightly on the leaves and branches past my hiding spot, barely making a sound, the dog barks and growls in my direction. The shoes pause and turn around. I hold my breath, shut my eyes, and hope this is all a bad dream. Swishh. The person standing in front of me pulls out a machete with a dark viscous liquid smeared on it, dripping onto the dead leaves. It bends down and looks into my cranny in the branches of the weeping willow. The moon suddenly comes out of hiding behind the dark storm clouds. The man’s beard lowered into my view. His facial hair was quickly followed by his face, with high cheekbones, a crisscrossing of scars marring his skin, and glittering, deepset black eyes.
I can barely tell that some of the scars were recent scratches extending down his face in the moonlight. His clothes show signs some recent struggles. I yell out in shock, thinking this man was a murderer. Then I noticed the wrinkles on his face and his bald head. Now I sit here warily, hoping this is all a misunderstanding. I slowly back farther away from him around the tree, while he stares at me. His hand is reaching towards me now. He has big knuckles and ragged nails with dirt under them. His hands are smudged with something sinister. I hope it is mud. With eyes tightly shut, I can feel the rough skin of his hand grabbing at my fleece covered arm. He yanks me up to my feet and grunts when he sees my face.
“You’re that new girl in town”, he leers at me.
“Yes sir. I moved here a couple days ago.”
“Well then,” his eye is twitching, “let’s just take you down to my cabin and get you warm. It’s an awfully cold night out to be wandering around in my woods.”
“Um. No thanks. This jacket I have is some type of new technology. It’s keeping me very warm.” I take several steps away from this guy. My instincts are telling me to get my butt out of this situation, it’s about to get ugly.
“Oh really now?” He matches my stride, following me around the wide trunk of the tree. “And what would happen if I decided that I want that jacket?”
“We-well,” I stutter. “I guess I would tell you where I bought it?” I stick my trembling hands in my hoodie pocket, and feel around for my cell phone. DAMN! I left it at home! On the counter! Even AFTER Dad reminded me about it! “Excuse me sir,” I muttered. “I just remembered that my dad wanted me back by 2 o’clock. So I think I’ll just leave now. I don’t like it when he’s angry. So… Bye!” I take a couple steps away and turn and I am sprinting as fast as I can away from this guy.
GrrrrARF ARF! the dog's barks are accompanied with the sounds of the beast running.
‘Oh No! The dog! I forgot about the dog!’
"Sick 'em Brutus! Show her who's boss."
The dull, rythmic thudding of the dog running is getting louder and closer to my own feet. Suddenly, a blinding pain radiats from my hamstring,
"AEeehh!" I scream. I trip over a tree branch that I can't see. "Ooumph" the solid, cold ground doesn't provide a soft landing for me. My hands get cut up by thorns and branches. I try to stand back up, but my leg will not let me. I can feel the warm drizzle of blood dripping down my thigh and the back of my knee. I reach out blindly on the ground, looking for a stick of some sort that I can use to defend myself.
‘Aha’! My hand closes around a stout peice of wood, so thick I can barely fit my hand around it. As I grab the stick, I can tell that the dog has left me alone, laying on my stomach. Rolling over slowly first i see the dog, with huge globs of drool and spittle dripping out of his mouth. Like his owner, he is covered in scars. In its silhouette against the moon, I notice one ear is absoultuly shredded and his tail broken in several places. My gaze moves on to the man standing over me. He has his knife out again.
Holding it up mockingly he asks, "What is your least favorite feature on your body? I just want to help you." He says this with a crazed look in his eye, nervously licking his lips.
“Um,” I eloquently gasp, “I like myself. And I don’t believe in changing your body.”
“Oh no. This is the big thing I hear. Everyone’s getting it done.” His nasty hand grabs my hand. “Why don’t we start with something small. Like your, lets say, a hand?”
He drags me along the ground, I claw and do everything in my power to escape. But my lack of leverage and injuries prevent me from actually hurting him. We stop. I am laying on my back next to a large fallen tree. Holding my wrist, he pins my hand against the trunk of the tree. I glance at the dog, who is uninterested in the events happening around it.
My eyes dart back to the man, just in time to see the flash of rusted metal slicing through the air.
Sssss. Thwack!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The echo of the shrill feminine scream reverberats throughout the forest, frightening the birds from their perches within the dark foliage. CAWW. The murder of crows flocks up the mountain towards the crevice in the rocky face. The bright light of the full moon begins to flicker over the leaves. The man sends quick glance upwards, which shows the moon’s glow being blocked by the pitch black bodies of the crows. He sees the outlines of hundreds of wings, flapping together in unison.
He shivers slightly before turning quickly and sprinting back into the small town to notify the police that the Crazy Indian has claimed another victim to his deranged medical tests. Tests that demonstrate how the body responds to loosing vital components.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Peeking around the gnarled tree behind which I hid, I identify something moving through the bushes, coupled with raspy and uneven breathing. It steps out from the undergrowth and the source of the sounds, a humanoid form, was wearing all black, along with an animal of some sort. I sink down in my hiding place and pulled the hood of my olive green jacket over my head, hoping to blend in more with the tree. Suddenly, as the shoes begin treading lightly on the leaves and branches past my hiding spot, barely making a sound, the dog barks and growls in my direction. The shoes pause and turn around. I hold my breath, shut my eyes, and hope this is all a bad dream. Swishh. The person standing in front of me pulls out a machete with a dark viscous liquid smeared on it, dripping onto the dead leaves. It bends down and looks into my cranny in the branches of the weeping willow. The moon suddenly comes out of hiding behind the dark storm clouds. The man’s beard lowered into my view. His facial hair was quickly followed by his face, with high cheekbones, a crisscrossing of scars marring his skin, and glittering, deepset black eyes.
I can barely tell that some of the scars were recent scratches extending down his face in the moonlight. His clothes show signs some recent struggles. I yell out in shock, thinking this man was a murderer. Then I noticed the wrinkles on his face and his bald head. Now I sit here warily, hoping this is all a misunderstanding. I slowly back farther away from him around the tree, while he stares at me. His hand is reaching towards me now. He has big knuckles and ragged nails with dirt under them. His hands are smudged with something sinister. I hope it is mud. With eyes tightly shut, I can feel the rough skin of his hand grabbing at my fleece covered arm. He yanks me up to my feet and grunts when he sees my face.
“You’re that new girl in town”, he leers at me.
“Yes sir. I moved here a couple days ago.”
“Well then,” his eye is twitching, “let’s just take you down to my cabin and get you warm. It’s an awfully cold night out to be wandering around in my woods.”
“Um. No thanks. This jacket I have is some type of new technology. It’s keeping me very warm.” I take several steps away from this guy. My instincts are telling me to get my butt out of this situation, it’s about to get ugly.
“Oh really now?” He matches my stride, following me around the wide trunk of the tree. “And what would happen if I decided that I want that jacket?”
“We-well,” I stutter. “I guess I would tell you where I bought it?” I stick my trembling hands in my hoodie pocket, and feel around for my cell phone. DAMN! I left it at home! On the counter! Even AFTER Dad reminded me about it! “Excuse me sir,” I muttered. “I just remembered that my dad wanted me back by 2 o’clock. So I think I’ll just leave now. I don’t like it when he’s angry. So… Bye!” I take a couple steps away and turn and I am sprinting as fast as I can away from this guy.
GrrrrARF ARF! the dog's barks are accompanied with the sounds of the beast running.
‘Oh No! The dog! I forgot about the dog!’
"Sick 'em Brutus! Show her who's boss."
The dull, rythmic thudding of the dog running is getting louder and closer to my own feet. Suddenly, a blinding pain radiats from my hamstring,
"AEeehh!" I scream. I trip over a tree branch that I can't see. "Ooumph" the solid, cold ground doesn't provide a soft landing for me. My hands get cut up by thorns and branches. I try to stand back up, but my leg will not let me. I can feel the warm drizzle of blood dripping down my thigh and the back of my knee. I reach out blindly on the ground, looking for a stick of some sort that I can use to defend myself.
‘Aha’! My hand closes around a stout peice of wood, so thick I can barely fit my hand around it. As I grab the stick, I can tell that the dog has left me alone, laying on my stomach. Rolling over slowly first i see the dog, with huge globs of drool and spittle dripping out of his mouth. Like his owner, he is covered in scars. In its silhouette against the moon, I notice one ear is absoultuly shredded and his tail broken in several places. My gaze moves on to the man standing over me. He has his knife out again.
Holding it up mockingly he asks, "What is your least favorite feature on your body? I just want to help you." He says this with a crazed look in his eye, nervously licking his lips.
“Um,” I eloquently gasp, “I like myself. And I don’t believe in changing your body.”
“Oh no. This is the big thing I hear. Everyone’s getting it done.” His nasty hand grabs my hand. “Why don’t we start with something small. Like your, lets say, a hand?”
He drags me along the ground, I claw and do everything in my power to escape. But my lack of leverage and injuries prevent me from actually hurting him. We stop. I am laying on my back next to a large fallen tree. Holding my wrist, he pins my hand against the trunk of the tree. I glance at the dog, who is uninterested in the events happening around it.
My eyes dart back to the man, just in time to see the flash of rusted metal slicing through the air.
Sssss. Thwack!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The echo of the shrill feminine scream reverberats throughout the forest, frightening the birds from their perches within the dark foliage. CAWW. The murder of crows flocks up the mountain towards the crevice in the rocky face. The bright light of the full moon begins to flicker over the leaves. The man sends quick glance upwards, which shows the moon’s glow being blocked by the pitch black bodies of the crows. He sees the outlines of hundreds of wings, flapping together in unison.
He shivers slightly before turning quickly and sprinting back into the small town to notify the police that the Crazy Indian has claimed another victim to his deranged medical tests. Tests that demonstrate how the body responds to loosing vital components.
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