Happy Halloween!
Time for the Write, Edit, Publish blog-hop, Dark Places.
WEP was started by my friend Denise Covy who is an awesome writer and lives down under in Australia. Yolanda Renee, another terrific writer co-host the challenge. So, when your done reading my creepy story head over and read what others have written. There's still time to join the fun and whip a spooky tail of your own.
To read other stories or join go here.
Time for the Write, Edit, Publish blog-hop, Dark Places.
WEP was started by my friend Denise Covy who is an awesome writer and lives down under in Australia. Yolanda Renee, another terrific writer co-host the challenge. So, when your done reading my creepy story head over and read what others have written. There's still time to join the fun and whip a spooky tail of your own.
To read other stories or join go here.
Unforgiven
I always walked through the tunnel under the highway to
get home. Strange, I didn’t remember riding the bus, yet here I was at the
tunnel entrance with the bus depot behind me. The tunnel was constructed of
cement with lights overhead and benches along the side. It was about three city
blocks long and saved more than a dozen blocks walking along a busy street and
over the bridge. But, today the lights were all burned out. I peered into
darkness.
Rain
pelted my umbrella. Perhaps the rain had shorted out the lights. The tunnel
leaked when it rained and there would be puddles of water. Above me, the street
light gave off a soft glow and I could see the other light far in the distance.
No one joined me. There were usually a dozen or more other commuters. Not
today.
I took
a breath and entered alone. My foot stepped into a puddle and splashed against
my ankle. The emptiness made me anxious and I bit my lower lip.
I
lived alone. After twenty-seven years in an abusive marriage I didn’t miss his
companionship and I had no plans to remarry. I did miss my girls. Both in their
twenties, they had busy lives. I tried to keep them safe from their father, but
abuse is learned and each of my girls could lay it on like peanut butter on
toast. The more you put on, the more you choked with the gooey substance sticking
to the roof of your mouth.
The
light up ahead started to flicker. A sudden darkness made me turn. The street
light behind me was completely out. When I turned back I counted how many times
the light hesitated. One, two, three, four and it was out. I stood in utter
darkness.
My
heart began to pound so loud that my ears throbbed. The ground shuddered. I
stepped forward and fell. A vast chasm had opened in the tunnel floor. My
scream echoed against the rock wall. I didn’t remember dropping the umbrella or
my purse.
I grabbed
at the rocks that jutted away from the wall. My fingers bled from the attempt
to slow my speed down. An orange glow started to dance off the obsidian
boulders. I landed and fell forward. My breath rushed out of my lungs. I sat
up, checking for injury. Nothing seemed to be broken. Then a hissing, gurgling
noise surrounded me. Glowing eyes advanced. Alarmed, I stood. Turning in a
circle, a horde approached. Distorted shapes. Some like wolves and others human
with elongated features, arms, legs and fingers.
I put out my hands.
“Don’t come near.”
They rushed me. Snarling,
cursing, I felt sharp teeth dig into my legs. Hands pulled me down. Eyes bore
into mine. Foul smells surrounded me. One of them licked my face. I screamed.
They laughed. The dog like creatures sounded like hyenas.
“Be gone!” A voice spoke.
Smooth as chocolate syrup.
I sat up. My clothes were
torn, my skin bruised and ripped, bleeding.
“Come, come. What did you
expect?” A man stood before me. In appearance, he was my younger self’s
identical twin, blond and tall.
I stood. “Who are you?
Where am I?”
His smile caused his lips
to split and distort. His eyebrows lifted a little on the ends and blue eyes
turned black. “Let me give you a tour.”
“No,” I said. He took my
arm anyway and instantly we stood on a precipice overlooking a burning lake. Something
moved in the flames but I couldn’t make out what is was.
“I had to work hard with
you.” His grin appeared more like a snake ready to bite. “Your husband wore you
down, but still you persisted. Your parents never hugged you or gave the
encouragement they lathered on your brother.”
As he spoke visions
formed in my mind. I saw first my husband and then my parents followed by my
brother’s grin. I felt him pinch me hard as he often did when I was a child.
“But your children.” His
words came out as a hiss. “First the oldest.” My Sally appeared before me and I
heard her speaking. “Mom, you never loved me. You always…” the rest would get
nasty. I turned away.
“But the youngest, well…”
With his smile his face transformed even more while I felt shattered to the
core of my being. Betsy stood before me. A beer bottle in her hand. “Why did
you do that, Mom? Why did you say that, Mom? How could you.” Her accusations
continued for more than an hour that day. I knew I had never done the things
she was laying out before me. And, I remembered the feeling of total emptiness.
I had finally fallen into the depths of dark despair. I fought for weeks and
yet couldn’t extract myself from the numbing destruction of my heart. My girls
hadn’t called me since and I hadn’t called them.
Horns jutted out of the
man’s forehead who looked like a wrinkled evil me. I shivered and then I
hovered over my bedroom and saw myself on the bed. A pill bottle lay open next
to me.
“But, no more sorrow…” I
began to quote the verse from Revelations.
“You committed the
unforgiveable sin. You took your own life.” He laughed then, a noise that
pierced my eardrum. I felt him pushing me.
Falling, falling. I felt
the heat from the fire in the lake and then the flames swallowed me. Licking.
Burning. My skin sizzled, turned black and then red and blistered. The pain…no
words were left. I screamed.
Others burned beside me.
Hundreds, thousands, tears flowing from their eyes to turn to steam on their
cheeks. Above me, the devil laughed. And with the sound of his enjoyment sharp
blades pierced my heart. I was in hell and couldn’t undo my mistake.
Word Count 982
What did you think?
Nancy
22 comments:
Oh Nancy.
Noooooooo. I believe, I hope that hell is for the abusers, not their victims. Can I hope your protagonist wakes? Realises it is a dream? I felt her pain, but I long for her reality to be different.
Well, Elephant, the prompt was 'dark.' Hope it gave you the chills.
Nancy
Truly chilling! I've always believed that a person who commits suicide repeats their life until they get it right. The pain, the cause for that horrid decision continues on until the lesson is learned. Not sure which one is worse?
Well done, definitely dark.
To whom are we to blame
for what we seek
Yet after death
only the dead know
It's totally scary and unfair that victims of abuse should end up in a hell alongside their tormentors. Well crafted and very dark. Enjoyed reading, thanks.
Hard to know Yolanda. I hope my story isn't true.
Poignant, desk.
I certainly hope that victims will not end up in hell, Nila. But, how many would commit suicide if they believed they would be burning for eternity? We may never know.
Nancy
Hi Nancy - certainly I'd no idea where I was being taken with the story ... but could see the inferno swarming with souls ... poor things. Man's cruelty at its worst ... hate leads to hate ... poor woman - well done - very creepy - Hilary
A very interesting take on Dark Places and one that I enjoyed reading. Especially her summation that she couldn't change her decision. Excellent job.
Shalom aleichem,
Pat Garcia
What a powerful and sad story. Gave me chills. Great work!
I thought the tunnel was dark enough, then she fell. Great take on the prompt.
Thank you, Hilary, Pat, Julie and Laura. If you got the chills, I did my job.
Nancy
Disturbing, thought provoking and dark - well done!
My take on this story is that she was the victim of abuse and then her daughters turned on her too. Pretty sad. I would never say that someone who committed suicide belongs in hell or should suffer more.
No. She suffered so much; she shouldn't be in hell. Her abusive husband should be there instead.
Thank you, Donna
No victim should be held accountable so this is not real life, we hope, Deborah.
Hi Olga
I agree.
Thank you all for stopping by.
Nancy
Sure a rough fate, stuck there due to another driving her to act. Suicide and hell, ending there with tormentors would be awful.
Hi Pat
You're right about that.
Nancy
Hi Nancy. Sorry it's taken me so long to wend my way to your blog. Feeling a bit under the weather still from my long flights.
Loved your story, but I see everyone is adamant that an innocent victim of abuse shouldn't fry in Hell. But it made for a sad, terrifying, image-ridden scary story for Dark Places. Well done!
Denise :-)
Hi Denise
I understand about the time and no worries. Yes, it is a story, nothing more. And one that would scare me, not easy to do. Glad you enjoyed it.
Nancy
Horrific, and chilling. I wonder what the mother did that made her daughters dislike her so. Committing suicide is also a subject that everyone ignores until it happens. Then they say, We never knew. . .This story left me feeling not scared but terribly sad. You got the emotion stirred in me. Well done.
Thank you, D. G. High praise indeed.
Nancy
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