A Collection of Short and Unfinished Stories

Horror Genre?

This was another story I had written around Halloween, maybe two years ago. 

Much Love!

        Tangent Arrow

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A thin, pale man screamed in rage, his translucent skin seeming to glow in the full moon's light. He brandished a large knife, wielding it threateningly in the direction of a young man, cowering in the corner of an alley. The boy begs the man, known as "the Wigmaker," to spare his life. Tears streamed down his face, falling to the cold cobblestones beneath him. A stab wound on his lower stomach oozed blood, coating his hands and clothing.

"You dare speak to my dearest? Young man, I trusted you. I brought you into my home, I gave you food, drink, clothing, a bed to sleep in at night, and this is how you repay me?" The Wigmaker walked slowly toward him, moonlight glinting off the blade in his palm. He stood in front of his prey for a moment, then crouched down. With a crazed look in his eyes, Wigmaker held his eye contact and spoke very slowly, very softly to the boy, as if he wanted him to retain every last syllable. His breath was hot, and heavy with the stench of gin.

"No one looks at my darling Myrtle and lives, boy." Donning a sick, deranged grin, he ran the sharp knife lightly across the boy's cheek. Blood began to trickle through the thin slit. "Do you have any last words, Vergil?" He paused only a moment before plunging the knife deep into his chest, only a gurgling cry escaping Vergil's lips. "Whoops, I'm very sorry, my dear boy, my hand slipped." chuckling darkly, he disappeared into the night, his black shoes clicking softly against the sidewalk.

Blood dripped from Vergil's mouth, spilling onto the street. The Wigmaker had punctured his left lung and Vergil soon drowned in his own blood. The lad was not found until the next day, when Ms. Petrie's maid went into the alley to put out the garbage. She screamed until she couldn't breath anymore at the sight of young Vergil, dead behind the hat shop.