Tuesday, May 12, 2009

"The Letter" Continued...

I'm practicing fiction this week. At one of my reader's requests, I'm continuing this story from yesterday. Here is part two where I try to get scary...If you like it I'll keep going tomorrow, but I need today to think about it. Send me your comments. I appreciate your feedback! By the way, Hell Hound didn't write this. I just caught her logged on, attempting to email PETA and forgot to sign her out. :)-Loren

Jack closes up the antique shop a whole two hours after his mother leaves early with a headache.

On her way home, Sherry is talking on the Blackberry while driving even though her husband Tom made her swear never to do it. She lies.

"No I'm parked right now. Yeah, It's this buzzing electric feeling at the back of my neck, like bees or something, and then coldness, like there are ice cubes there suddenly. It happens over and over again...Just today after I had that third cup of coffee. No, just the usual stuff. Yes, I took Advil. I don't know, I hope it's not arthritis in my shoulders. Okay, love you,
bye."

The Advil doesn't work. By the time she goes to bed, Sherry is so irritated. She takes two Motrin and closes her eyes. Finally, she relaxes.

It's the sensation of being shoved forcefully by frail white-gloved hands, breath on the back of her neck, the smell of brandy. For a moment, like a spectator in her own nightmare, Sherry watches herself being pushed out of the house and down the street by an old woman with the strength of an ox. She stumbles barefoot at the fast-forward speed that only takes place in panic dreams. The hands are like ice on the back of her shoulders. She reaches the door of her shop.

"Open it!" Sherry shivers as the breath of this creature numbs her left ear.

She fumbles with the key, still feeling the shock of cold hands on her shoulders. The door swings open and she feels her body propelled forward to the front desk. The garbage pail flips over spilling its contents. An empty 7-11 coffee cup rolls under her desk chair. The bag was changed.

Sherry feels herself lifted, icy hands cutting off her windpipe, she gasps for air.
"Jack changed the bag." She struggles to say, coughing, and frozen in horror. Her head hits the old tin ceiling. "Please." She cries.

No letter means no rest from this thing. The creature lets go. Sherry falls to the floor of her shop, hitting her head on her desk.

"Sherry? Are you okay?!" Tom shouts. Sherry looks up, tears flooding her eyes. The bedroom is dark, but birds are beginning to chirp outside.

"Sherry, Sweetheart, You were having a bad dream." Tom reaches over to pull her up, half-asleep himself.

"No, I made a mistake yesterday. I threw something out that I shouldn't have." Sherry opens her dresser drawer and pulls out a pair of slacks.

"What are you doing? It's three in the morning?" Tom whines.

"I have to go to work and get the garbage back before it gets picked up."

Before Tom can protest, Sherry has left the room.

6 comments:

rhymeswithplague said...

The first chapter was intriguing, but this one gave me shivers. I don't usually care for this sort of story, but I can hardly wait to learn what happens next.

rhymeswithplague said...

Just an aside: I like past tense better than present, although I see why you used present; it's so...present.

Loren Christie said...

Aw, Thanks Mr. Brague, Rhymes with Plague! I don't really like serious horror stories. I guess I just like to flirt with this genre. Certain things I won't watch or read. I stopped reading Stephan King's IT and never watched The Ring. The Shining, which was SO well written and played, kept me sleeping with the light on for weeks. I feel more comfortable writing in present tense. It is easier for me to make sure the tense is all the same when it is written in the present. However, some stories sound better in the past tense. Do you think this one would? Another element that can be varied is point of view. I have trouble deciding on that. It takes a lot for a work of fiction to grip me. That's why I'm so reluctant to try writing them myself. The plot can get predictable. Okay, I'll try this again tomorrow and lets hope I can keep it interesting and not get predictable and dumb.

Putz said...

oh this time you ARE writing about slacks and not shacks, can never keep you straight loren...keep writing

Loren Christie said...

Haha, I thought of you Mr. Putz, when I wrote "slacks."

Elizabeth Kathryn Gerold-Miller said...

Well present tense makes sense right now, because you are presently making up the story as you go along, so for you it is the present. You can always go back and change it all the past tense when you are done. I am really enjoying this!

Dear Internet Traveler,

Welcome to my writer's blog, started about six years ago for fun. Over time, the writing I have posted has ranged from personal reflection, to Long Island history research, to tall tales for my own amusement, to feature articles for local newspapers. As you can see from topics listed here, I travel in many mental directions in regard to interests. Click on the tabs and labels to explore my strange mind which senses that you may be having a criss-cross day. If so, perhaps this blog will distract you. However, please note that if you tell me my blog is beautiful just to get me to advertise rhinoplasty surgery and cheap drugs from Canada in your comment, I will ask the gods to give you a tail that cannot be concealed.

Fondly,

Loren Christie

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