Dead silence fills the dark Halls of the estate manor Elizabeth Freighwarner. The Freighwarner Manor was quite an old building, built by an architect named John Balmswen in 1886. The cool, crisp autumn air blows through the withering trees, gently swinging their branches to and fro.
It was the middle of the night, the full moon shown brightly through the blood-red curtains of Elizabeth's bedroom. The 23-year-old tossed and turned in her Victoria Era bed. From the age of eight, Elizabeth has had terrible nightmares. Most of them have been repetitive, and those nightmares were horrifying for Elizabeth that it was almost haunting for her...and she was having that same nightmare now. She tossed and turned in her bed. A storm had kicked up, just outside her bedroom window. The wind was howling, pounding against the window pane, almost like it was demanding to be let in. Elizabeth continued to toss and turn. She was running. Running for her life from danger, Running from a man she never knew. Then her windows burst open. The cold, icy wind forcing itself inside. At the same time, Elizabeth had jolted awake from the nightmare. She pants heavily, closing her eyes and trying to catch her breath. After calming herself down, Elizabeth climbs out of bed and walks to the kitchen for a glass of water. What she sees next worries her. In the kitchen, there is a door that leads to the backyard. She knew she had tightly locked that door before she went to bed, but she saw that the door was wide open. She walked over to the door to close it, but before she did, she inspected the door first. The door handle was frayed. Someone had broken into her home! She quickly shuts the door and locks it tight, not hearing the click of a Colt .45 pistol being ready to fire. By the time Elizabeth turned around, the gun fired, and she landed on the floor. A square mark bullet hole was all that remained in her head, with nobody seen in the house but Elizabeth. And Elizabeth alone…
End of Part One
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Untold Thoughts: A Collection of Short Stories
Algemene fictieTitle says it all. These stories were written when I was attending a conference near my town called Pen In Hand. Today marks the two years since I've been there and I miss it dearly, so I wanted to show you guys my short stories I wrote there. Enjoy...
