Little short story to get into the Christmas spirit :P
A white blanket covered the trees, the roof, the late grass. A warm fire lit up the room, the people, chased away the cold. Winter lights glowed, the only joy apparent as the strangers gloomily warmed their hands at the hearth. They looked around with suspicious glances, shadows dancing around them. The door suddenly opened only to be snapped shut by the howling wind.
"You're early," a soft voice coming from the hidden armchair whispered.
"Only by a few minutes," someone from the door replied. The strangers looked at each other, huddling close to one another. "I like what you've done with the place," the newcomer continued, walking into the room with a carefree gait. They were short, covered by a black cloak and carried a huge blade darker than obsidian, as unsettling as a moonless night.
"Please touch this house the least possible," the hidden entity sighed, "I really don't want someone to have to clean your filth after we're done."
The swordperson's gaze rested on the strangers, eyes white as a star, shining even. They shivered and whimpered, muted by fear. But the newcomer only gave them a small crystal hourglass. "I'm not going to hurt you," they smiled, and then turned, the couple forgotten once again. There was a long pause as the one clad in black pulled out their sword and dramatically unsheathed it.
"Well? Go on, I've been waiting long enough," the hidden being grumbled.
"I might as well say the same," a sudden flash, a piercing cry. "Merry Christmas, love!" They said.
And that was the last thing the strangers ever saw.
YOU ARE READING
The Lost Dreams of a Broken Poet
Short StoryA collection of poems and short stories I write when I'm bored. Most of the themes are sad, so I hope that, in a hundred years when I'm long dead, students read them as part of their Literature lessons. XD ⚠Major character death in some stories⚠
