MIDNIGHT SHOWINGS: A Short Story Collection

THE HONEYMOON

THE HONEYMOON

'Mark!' Sarah screamed, making her voice hoarse. She'd already shouted his name several times.
'Yeah,' he responded, 'I'm here, nothing to worry about!'
    Sarah couldn't see him but the sound of his voice was enough to satisfy her, he'd been gone for longer than two minutes to investigate the noise they'd heard outside. The other problem she faced was the darkness due to the power going out.
'Can you check the fuses?' She called over to Mark.
'It's right next to you, honey!' He called back.
Sarah looked to her left to see the ancient fuse box, the prospect of even turning the thing terrified her because it looked like it could easily electrocute her. She knelt down and opened the box, hesitating at the fuse. When she flicked it, it sparked causing her to jump back and scream. But just as quickly she began to giggle.
'At least I can make us a brew now!' She called out to Mark who didn't respond.
She walked into the kitchen and placed the steel kettle on the hob, smiling to herself and thinking herself silly for getting so scared. I suppose it is easy to get scared of these little cottages when you're used to the city she thought. She shook her head before turning to the fridge to get the milk, however when she opened it, she was greeted by the bloody decapitated head of her husband: Mark. Sarah screamed and turned around to be faced with a black masked man, wearing black gloves, carrying a bloody axe.
She pleaded with him; shaking her head. But after this encounter, she was never able to plead or shake her head again.