ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
Copyright © Audeney
Any portion of this book thereof should not be reproduced or used without the permission of the Author except for the use of quotations in a Book Review.
Be yourself. The world worships the original. - Ingrid Bergman
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The Sun had long since bid its adieu as Stephany wound through the forest to their home. She had just dropped her boyfriend off at the airport. She would have tagged along for the late flight, but she wanted to clean the house and prepare everything for the final meeting of her boyfriend's parents. Finally their house emerged from behind a tree. She parked and rushed inside, eager to catch the movie on HBO.
She changed and sat down to watch. After an hour her head began to bob as she nodded off and jerked herself awake. She finally consented with her body, turning the television off and dozing quietly in bed.
Hours later a jolt awakened her. She panted, felt beads of sweat form on her forehead like liquid jewels. She turned to the television, expecting the screen to be black, and saw Final Destination 5 playing in the full throes of massacre, a compilation of Death's works.
Odd, she thought. Thought I turned it off already. She stood, reaching for the kill switch once more as if she were Death himself.
A beeping sound alerted her of an incoming call, and she snatched it up, checking the caller ID. It was her boyfriend. She frowned and answered.
"Hey, how's the flight? I thought phones weren't allowed?" she wondered.
"I'll see you soon," her boyfriend's voice responded in a chillingly deep tone. The call ended.
She stared at the phone for several minutes in puzzlement.
Weird.
Sleep dehydrated her, so she left the comfort of her room to scare up a drink of water, feeling a peace in the shadowy recesses of her home, not frightened of the darkness. Nyctophilia. She started down the stairs when a motion in her periphery made her freeze.
A figure. A man stood there. She could just stare at him. His flesh was burnt down to a dripping, mottled carpet hanging from his bones. His clothes were torn, soaked in blood, and on his face he wore a macabre grin, eyes as wide as any she had ever seen.
She retreated pressing her back to the wall, and shielded her eyes from the horrid sight with her hands. She tried to slow her breathing, but there was nothing for it. Her pulse pounded in her temples and she counted by it, counting minutes. She removed her hands. Empty. Nothing and no one stood there. She searched for the man, but he had vanished.
It was just my imagination, she repeated to herself all the way to the kitchen.
She threw down a glass of water and washed the experience from her hands. By then a faint light emanated from outside the front door, gave her vision.
Stephany felt too weary to go back upstairs so she settled on the couch on front of the television. She retrieved pillows and blankets from the closet and curled up on the cushions. Creeping discomfort settled around her so she sat up, just staring at the mirror facing her front door. She blinked. And there he was again. The macabre man, grinning his grin. He waved at her.
She covered herself entirely with her blanket, shaking the irrational fear off, and shut her eyes. Soon she fell asleep. A rapping sound roused her, knocks on the door. She glanced around, sunlight seeping in through the windows.
She determined to behave rationally. Her joints popped as she approached the door and swung it open, greeting two cops with a smile. "Morning Officers," she mumbled groggily, unable to hold back a yawn.
"Morning, ma'am. Are you Stephany Saunders?" She nodded, and he shifted his weight. "We have some news."
"What is-"
"Mr. Carson was your boyfriend?" He did not wait for my response. Was? He took his hat off, held it in both hands. "I'm very sorry to have to deliver this news to you, ma'am. But Mr. Carson is dead."
Her chest tightened until she couldn't breathe. "What?" she gasped. "How is that possible? I spoke to him last night!" Her voice cracked as her throat filled with sobs, blinking blurry tears from her vision.
"He died last night. His plane crashed," he continued sadly.
"But he called!" she exclaimed, warm water running down her face. She felt vaguely dizzy. He called.
"Ma'am," the second cop finally spoke. "We aren't certain what happened last night, but..." he paused and glanced down at his shoes. "We'll investigate further."
"Our condolences."
They both gave her pitying, apologetic looks. She could barely nod, tears hot on her face.
"And ma'am," the other began sheepishly, "you might want to change this door. Mirrors. Very...unsettling." He cast the door a suspicious glance and they turned, finally leaving her to her grief. She felt a twinge on her wrist.
She leaned against the closed door and grasped her arm. Her eyes widened. The usual faded scars decorated her wrist. But they bled. The red of her life's liquid painted a poignant picture across her skin.
Impossible, she thought. These healed a long time ago.
The tears still came, sobs racking her body as she recalled her vow. Her mind traveled back in time.
"We'll be together forever," they both said, voices ringing with promise, and cut their wrists, finishing the ritual with the vow. Forever.
"Oh no." Her tears spattered onto her bloody wrist. "Oh no," she mumbled again, looking up to see her boyfriend standing there, flesh burnt in the fire of the accident. The macabre man.
"Missed me?" he asked with a deep tone, grinning and holding his bloody phone.
THE END.
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Hello! Some got butterflies in their stomach while others are still baffled, what about you? What did you get? What did you feel?
Share your thoughts, comments or just anything. I'd love to hear something from you. Though, this was based off from a real person. BUT, this hasn't happened in real life- or maybe it did? Not to me, maybe to other people. Share your paranormal experiences down below. If you had any.
Thank you. Peace. :)
