A Collection of Short Stories

4am

Lydia woke up with a jolt. Her hands were clenched, her nails biting into the soft cotton of her blanket. Her throat was sore from screaming. Her back was beaded with sweat and her hair moist and damp. She slowly turned her head left and right, checking her surroundings. She let out a loud suffering sigh and looked at the ceiling. The room was fairly lit by the night-flowers on her window sill, its beauty captivating to one's eyes. Lydia stretched her hands and legs and sat up groggily. She still has dreams of her little brother and the car crash that took his life. How could God be so cruel to take away her only connection to family, the one dearest to her? She looked at the clock on her study table, it was 4 in the morning. Perfect time to go out to buy breakfast. She stood up, put on her grey coat, slipped on her jet-black boots and step out to the endless black night.

The street was covered with a white fluffy sheet of snow. Snowflakes fluttered around her, some sticking on her golden hair. Lydia laughed quietly to herself as she walked down the still street. Soft, dazzling streetlights illuminate her way, trees bent towards her as if it was welcoming a queen. Her boots softly crunched leaves on the ground. The chilly wind whispered through the night, pushing clouds of the darkest grey, to show the ever-glowing moon. The moon cast a shadow which trailed Lydia behind, a wavy black mist on the ground. Lydia walked ahead, towards the supermarket down the street, its neon head-lights flaring up like a signal. Cars were covered with snow-colored capes, traffic lights changing colors in a blink of an eye. It was a night that is peaceful and still, but it was broken by the whispers of her name.

Lydia abruptly stopped and slowly turned around. She saw no one on the street except for snow-coated leaves to float down from the trees and the chilly wind blowing on her face. She shrugged, thinking it was the wind who coarsely whispered her name. She turned back and headed on, towards the supermarket but again, the whispers of her name echoed through the street, its silent vibration sending shivers up her spine. Her heart was hammering against her chest like a beat of a drum. Suddenly she was turned around with brute force, and came face-to-face with a monster.

His face was blue in color, the color of the sea on the beach, his eyes red-rimmed with pupils changing color every second that ticked by. His hands on Lydia's shoulders has a grip like stone, squeezing too hard. His hands, however, was bandaged with white linen as used in mummifying the mummies in the tomb of Egypt. He reeked of a coppery smell which Lydia couldn't put a finger on the familiar scent. She tried to break free, but as she looked down, his body was ... just ... gone, like there's no substance that made up his body. Lydia gaped in horror. As she looked up, the monster held a gleaming knife on the other hand, that shone under the moonlight, his eyes full of glee and his mouth turning into a malicious grin.

Lydia screamed as the monster constantly jabbed through her flesh, her blood splattering on the monster's face. At last, she fell onto the street, her blood staining the snow underneath her like roses in a garden, her green eyes staring blankly at the moon, a spotlight on her limp bloody body. The monster slowly drifted away, his face and hands not to be seen.

Suddenly, her eyes blinked, but they were no longer green, but a dark hollow.