Horror and Thriller Flash Fiction posted January 1, 2018 |
May E. A. Poe NOT roll over in his grave.
The Stranger in the Crimson Hood
by RodG
At the first stroke of midnight I awoke in my chair, feeling a frigid presence. I leaned toward the hearth to stir the remaining embers of the raging fire that warmed the darkened room much earlier.
When I turned to glance at the still chiming Grandfather’s clock, its wan face stared at me from deep within a crimson hood.
The tall figure stood silently beside the coffin window. The deep furrows of its long cowl shivered when brushed by the currents in the air . . . as did my flesh.
“Who or what are you?” I asked.
It slinked toward me, yet no voice came forth.
Feeling my limbs freeze solid, I grimaced.
As it approached, I saw mottled blood around the numerals on its face. The sable hands, shaped like upraised daggers, twitched apart.
“Why have you come?” I cried.
Bong!
“I am . . .”
Bong!
“. . . the . . .”
Bong!
“. . . New Year.”
The last chime echoed.
I gawked at the ghastly face now inches away.
“No!” I screamed. “Not another year like the last. More death? Violence and terror?”
It nodded.
Then came bone-chilling silence.
HOrror writing prompt entry
At the first stroke of midnight I awoke in my chair, feeling a frigid presence. I leaned toward the hearth to stir the remaining embers of the raging fire that warmed the darkened room much earlier.
When I turned to glance at the still chiming Grandfather’s clock, its wan face stared at me from deep within a crimson hood.
The tall figure stood silently beside the coffin window. The deep furrows of its long cowl shivered when brushed by the currents in the air . . . as did my flesh.
“Who or what are you?” I asked.
It slinked toward me, yet no voice came forth.
Feeling my limbs freeze solid, I grimaced.
As it approached, I saw mottled blood around the numerals on its face. The sable hands, shaped like upraised daggers, twitched apart.
“Why have you come?” I cried.
Bong!
“I am . . .”
Bong!
“. . . the . . .”
Bong!
“. . . New Year.”
The last chime echoed.
I gawked at the ghastly face now inches away.
“No!” I screamed. “Not another year like the last. More death? Violence and terror?”
It nodded.
Then came bone-chilling silence.
Writing Prompt Write a short flash fiction story between 100 to 200 words based on the themes specified in contest details. |
This is a pastiche of and a tribute to Edgar Allan Poe's famous short story "Masque of the Red Death."
coffin window: ala "witches window" often found in old New England homes, especially Vermont. The window, narrow and shaped like a coffin, is usually found on the gabled end of the house.
cowl: a hooded robe (or the actual hood) typically worn by monks.
WORD COUNT: APPLE PAGES 198
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