'10 Till Midnight' - Spooky Story Challenge

   Halloween is on the rise - it's the time of year for candy, getting ready for NaNoWriMo (we're not thinking about that right now), costumes, and spooky stories. And I'm joining in Jenelle Schmidt's Spooky Story Challenge (unfortunately I couldn't get her graphic to work, so you don't get to see it), which ... is fairly self-explanatory. Enjoy.

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   There was no wind that night. Only silence and shadows and the angry moon, watching over the world with its stony eye.

   And they alone saw the strange creatures creeping down the trail, set free and hungry. They had not eaten for three years.

   So hungry.

   The book’s worn pages crinkled beneath Lucy Aberon’s fingers. The house was still except for the noise of her breathing. Her older brother had gone out to roam the street and cause ruckus, while she preferred to stay home and read. Besides, they had just moved into the neighborhood and she didn’t know anyone.  Halloween night wasn’t really for her. But it was good for a book. 

   She pulled her blankets closer to her chin and scooted towards the tiny candle she had lit. Her family called her old-fashioned, reading by candle light, but she liked the way the candle flame danced.

   She turned to the next page. Whoosh, and the candle blew out.

   She sighed. Maybe her family was right. She stood up and was about to go turn on the light when moonbeams reached through the window and illuminated the book’s pages.

    There was a post-it note attached to them.

   Squinting in the dim light, she reached down and pulled it off.

   10 minutes was scrawled across it in spidery handwriting. 10 minutes. Her eyes flickered up to the digital clock on her nightstand.

   11:50. Ten minutes till midni –

   Something hit the window. She whirled around, dread knotting her stomach. The wind had started up and pale papers were blowing up against the window.

   10 minutes, 10 minutes, 10 minutes read every one. Her bedroom door was thrown open of its own accord. More paper blew in –  10 minutes, 10 minutes, 10 minutes, 10 –

   She stumbled backwards and hit the headboard, post-it note clenched in her hand, and screamed. Screamed and screamed and screamed, until she couldn’t hear the paper whirlwind anymore.

   And when she stopped, it was silent. Too silent. The papers fell to the floor like dead moths. She shivered in the freezing air, waiting, too scared to move.

   And then the shadows quivered.

   A whirlpool of blackness formed in the middle of her room. The shadow straightened like a deathly flower blooming and looked at her with two blood-red eyes. The inky figure pointed one long finger at the paper she held.

   “You have been warned,” it rumbled. “Aberon blood will be spilt this night.”  

   And then the figure burst, sending shard of shadow across the room. She didn’t even have time to scream. Only to stand and stare, bits of black caught in her hair and eyelashes.

   As the dark faded from her skin, all she could think was I have been warned.

   Lucy Aberon had been warned.

   But her brother hadn’t been.

   Throwing on a white coat and jeans, she dashed out of the house and into the frozen night.

   And three thin pieces of paper floated listlessly on the wind. Above the trees and into the midnight sky, like wandering birds. 10 minutes, 10 minutes, 10 minutes.

   The leader raised his nose and sniffed. They were close. He could smell human flesh.

   Human flesh. It had been so long. Three years.

   So long.

   He gestured with one long, grotesque hand and lurched down the path, following the human-flesh scent.

   So close.

   She had forgotten her phone. But she guessed that it wouldn’t have helped – there were strange forces at work

   She tried not to think of what 10 minutes could lead too. Only ran down the street like a ghost out for revenge, looking for her brother.

   10 minutes, 10 minutes, 10 –

   There was a crack. She skidded to a stop and tripped, shredding her hands on the cement and leaving blood trails.And she laid there, freezing, trying to still her pounding heart.

   Paranoid. That’s all it was – she was paranoid. Inhaling shakily, she climbed back to her feet and moved more slowly, wrapping her arms around herself. Her palms stung and were probably leaving stains on her clothes. She didn’t care.

   She had to find her brother. 10 minutes.

   He smelled blood. A growl built up in his throat. Blood.

   And it was close.

   A cascade of growls and insect-sounding clicks erupted from his pack. They were impatient. They wanted to feed.

   He sniffed the air again. Yes, blood. And human flesh. So close.

   It was time to hunt.

   Her feet were blistered. She didn’t know how far she had gone – she barely knew where she was anymore. She could hardly see.

   So she just kept walking and calling her brother’s name, hoping she wasn’t too lost. Then she heard a shout.

   She whirled around and dashed across whoever’s yard she was in, tripping on sticks. No one would see her – it was too dark. But she had to find out who screamed. Something about it felt wrong.

   She rounded the house, and slowed as the moon shot its dim and deathly light across the backyard. And she saw her brother. He was in the yard, crouching, hand on his leg. It looked broken. How …

   “Ashland!” She cried, rushing forward again.

   She didn’t know what time it was. But the shadows and the moon did. And they watched as every clock struck twelve and a grotesque hand clamped down around the unsuspecting girl’s arm.

   She had been warned. 

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~ Savannah Grace