Short Horror Stories (Request/Ideas Open)

Cranberry Pity

!!Warning!! Mentions of blood, murder, and operations

It was an icy, pristine day. The last of the autumn leaves were softly falling upon the winter's white, clean sheet of snow.

Mrs. Hark always loved the cold weather. The perfect time to look outside at the chalky snowfall with a warm cup of sweet, steamy hot chocolate in hand accompanied by warm, fuzzy slippers.

Sadly Mrs. Hark was not enjoying any of that. She stared at the snow; a saddened frown plastered on her face as she anxiously waited in the living room. Her husband did not arrive home yet. Something was off. She felt it. No way would he be late on a day like this, he always got out of the office early on Thursdays.

She stood up from the sofa, overthinking all the bad things that might've happened in only a split second. Maybe he crashed his car on the ice on the highway. Maybe he got in trouble at work and is being scolded by his boss right now. No, he must've been mugged and robbed and is now all alone out there in the cold, wet sleet.

Mrs. Hark's last thought got her knees shaking now. She had to find him. She couldn't lose him.

Mrs. Hark scampered over to the landline. Calling once more till she'd decide to venture out and look for him.

The phone rang out in agony as it finally clicked, and the call ended with no answer to continue it. Mrs. Hark sighed worriedly as she raced over to the coat rack for her winter overcoat. She swiftly pulled her arms through the wooly sleeves whilst struggling to put on her hard, plastic winter boots.

Her teeth rattled against each other while she aggressively opened the front door as a bitter, sharp gust of air entered the household. Mrs. Hark however didn't move. She stood still, her gaze looking up at the individual directly in front of her. An odd, out-of-place cranberry scent coming from this towering figure.

"Honey, where are you going?"

Mr. Hark looked down at his spouse with a confused stare. Mrs. Hark explained how she got worried and concerned about why he was late and that she was going to look for him.

Mr. Hark responded harshly, not taking any mind to her feelings. "Sweetie, why the hell would I be getting scolded by my boss or getting mugged? You have to stop this overthinking stuff; it's getting a bit weird. And if you must know I was late because of traffic from a car collision that happened near Barke Road. Seriously though, how do you get this worried that you bring up the conclusion I'm getting mugged?!"

She stared down at her boots, feeling ashamed for overthinking again. She honestly disliked it, but she couldn't help it. It was just something she lost control of.

Pretty soon they both closed the door, took off their coats and shoes, and began getting ready for supper. Mrs. Hark began cooking leftovers and Mr. Hark set up the table for the two of them.

Their meal felt awkward between the two of them. No talking, nothing. Just the clattering of spoons, forks, and knives as they both quietly munched and swallowed their mashed potatoes and ham.

They went to bed, once again not a word between them both. Mrs. Hark did try to speak to him but he grunted and ignored her. It hurt her as always but it's been like this for some time now so what was the point of complaining? Plus, Mr. Hark usually was more talkative in the morning before he heads off for work.