Into The Woods

They must come soon.

Crouching in the shadows I peer into the gloom.

The moon dark night smothers my sight. Nothing is visible, but patterns still emerge as my brain stubbornly struggles to makes shapes from the sheltering woodland. The wind rustles the trees and a man sized shape looms in the distance before vanishing with the next random movement of the branches. Even the shadows writhe, shifting shapes, greater darkness vying with lesser to make phantom apparitions manifest before me.

I squeeze my eyes tight shut, seeking the refuge of total darkness, but even that eludes me as I watch the shadows continue their sinuous dance on the backs of my eyelids before slowly, imperceptibly, developing impossible colours that swirl before me like oil on water.

They must come soon. I know they are hunting me.

I force myself to focus on my other senses. The rustling leaves whisper secrets to each other. Sharp, sibilant secrets of the cruel, cold, silent hours, half-heard tales of horrors undreamt of under the sun’s happy domain. They call to me, sirens of desolation, urging me to shout, to drive away their murmured roar. Instead I release another slow, measured breath, so faint that I barely hear it.

The musky loam scent of years-old leaf litter, mixed with faint pine scents of the needles beneath me, tickle my nostrils. Those same needles prick me through my heavy woollen sweater with every slight movement I make.

Damp, rising from my shallow scrape hole wicks through to my shirt, clasping my skin in a lukewarm embrace. The loss of heat from my core, slowly stolen by the unyielding ground, brings a shiver, causing twigs to crackle beneath me in protest.

But colder still is my sole companion. It has adapted better than I, swiftly settling to ambient temperature. A whiff of light oil drifts from it and steals into the night, scouting for other unnatural aromas. The night terrors and sounds of the dark wood hold no sway over its angular perfection. No hooting owl distracts it from its singular purpose. It waits, patiently as I cannot, for them to come.

A pale glow flickers between the distant boughs, jumping and dancing. And another. And another.

A line of battery powered fireflies in the darkness.

Slowly, cautiously they quarter the ground, seeking sign of my spoor.

My breath comes sharper now. My heart pounds and blood whooshes in my ears.

They are here.

I reach out to clasp my unsleeping companion one last time, enfolding it in the comforting, familiar embrace of long practice. I nuzzle my cheek against its cold flank and steady my breathing.

I work the bolt with infinite soundless care, and wait for them to come into my crosshairs.

 455 words

@nickjohns999

This story was written for Jeff Tsuruoka's Mid-Week Blues Buster . This week's prompt is Dark Road by Sarah Jarosz 
It received an Honourable Mention from judge Laura James, who said:- 
I’m also giving a wee Honourable Mention to Nick Johns, very clever writing – I didn’t truly get it till the last line.

The Sound of Silence

The Sound of Silence

He had been a storm. Thunder followed him. The booming collapse of singularities as he banished them and all their chattels had been enough for him back then. Vengeance was less satisfying than he had imagined in the heat of his rage. All he had now was eternal echoes of thunder in the empty streets.

55 words

@nickjohns999

This story was written for Lisa McCourt-Hollar's 55 word challenge.
It received an honourable mention from judge Jeff Hollar, who said -
Its exceptionally difficult with such a minimal word count to craft a complete story. That being said, Nick did the next best thing and established a coherent and continuous overall emotion/tone that was truly ominous. Spooky! 

 

Never Go Back

“...but that’s the one place in the world where she’s not going to be. It’s five years since we missed her when she ran... Yes, fair enough, I missed her, but the fact remains... Yes... It’s just, if we have a new location, perhaps I should go there. Make amends so to speak... No. of course I’m not defying you, Sir... Yes, I understand perfectly. I’ll be there by this evening.”

***

Stone’s breath was clearly visible and the windows were starting to mist over. To start the engine and un-fog the glass or to sit here freezing outside a building he would soon no longer be able see? Not that he needed to see it. He knew it like his own reflection. He’d even been back a few times, reflecting on his first visit.

He checked again that the interior light switch in the rental car was off before getting out. She wouldn’t come back.

Before the wind stole their warmth away, Stone thrust his hands deep into the pockets of his heavy winter coat. The hammer of the revolver had caught on the hole in the lining he kept forgetting to patch. He fingered the small piece of polished tigers eye. His lucky charm. Stone’s stone.

The sounds of footsteps carried clear and sharp in the icy night air.

Stilettos.

An uneven rhythm.

Drunk? No.

Moving slowly, cautiously.

He took a step back into the shadow of a high Yew hedge and waited, still.

As she came level with his position he saw her head sweep from side to side, a precaution severely limited by the Pashmina that shrouded her head and shoulders. But he didn’t need to see her face.

His hand on her shoulder spun her around and she teetered on her heels, before grabbing his other arm for support. The gun’s weight thumped against his thigh. He didn’t need the gun with her.

“Hello Diana.”

“Stone!”

“Get in the car – now.”

He bundled her in, offering her the seatbelt, and watching her buckle it. He flipped the kiddie lock and slammed the door.

He drummed his fingers on the wheel as the heater cleared the screen, sneaking sideways glances at her. He roared away as soon as he had a decent circle of vision, even if he had to hunch to see through it.

“Stone...”

“Shut up!”

“Do you still have it?”

“I mean it! Shut up!” His glare convinced her and she subsided.

Out of town, he turned the car onto a narrow farm road. He drove slowly, both because of the icy surface, and because he had switched to side lights and didn’t want to light up the brake lamps.

“Stone?”

“What?”

“Where are we going?”

“We aren’t going anywhere. I’m going back to the main road. After I’ve crashed and burned this car.”

He stopped, facing the ditch at a sharp bend.

“Are you stupid? Why the hell did you come back? Here, of all places?”

“I had to...”

“...there was always going to be me, or someone like me, waiting for you. I told you that... last time. And yes, it’s in my pocket. Always.”

He turned her chin towards him and kissed her.

She pulled back.

“But the call said you were here, but in trouble. Big trouble.”

“Call? What call?”

The cough of an engine and flare of full headlights pinned them to their seats.

“Keep your hands where I can see them, if you please, Mr Stone.”

He grabbed for to his pocket and cursed the snagged hammer as gun refused to come free. He heard a stone drop into the foot well just as the windscreen crazed. The echoes of two shots chased each other into the night.

 “Yes, Sir... Both of them... If you recall, at the time I suspected... Yes, Sir... We’ll take care of it... Oh, a crash on a slippery road and a fire, I fancy, Sir.”

654 words

@nickjohns999

This story was written for Jeff Tsuruoka's Mid-Week Blues Buster #33 and was inspired by this week's track 'Missing' by Everything But The Girl
The story received an Honourable Mention from judge @ang_writes, who said
"My honourable mention is 'Never Go Back' for getting Bang Bang by Nancy Sinatra stuck in my head. (Nick Johns)"

The Devil's Alternative

 

The Devil’s Alternative

The shooting’s stopped.

I told him. He wouldn’t listen.

If the army couldn’t stop them, how would he, or our walls around the house?

They’ll be crossing the bridge about now.

“OK kids, time to come in now.”

Only three shells left in this old pistol.

“Quiet! We’re going to meet Daddy.”

Lord forgive me.

55 words

@nickjohns999

This story was written for Lisa McCourt-Hollar's 55 Word Challenge #75 
It received an Honourable Mention in the judging.
" Chilling story and gave me the heebie-jeebies."

A Walk on the Wild Side

A Walk on the Wild Side

“Don’t look back. Run, quick sticks, and hide in the woods with Missy. No, don’t stop. I’ll come find you.”

I hoped I would, anyway.

His hand was a dead weight on my shoulder. The bridge boards creaked beneath his weight.

Red rimmed eyes peered from a thicket of beard and wild hair. His breath rattled and bubbled like a broken down old steam engine. I wrinkled my nose as he leaned closer. He was one of the bad ones. Seeping sores scattered his sweatshirt with red and yellow patches. One bloody, weeping toe peeked through his ripped tennis shoe.

“Now then Sweetheart, I kept my word, let the little ones go. Now it’s your turn.”

His grin was a ruined castle of broken teeth, and he smelled like the cesspit after Daddy got too sick to empty it.

He bent down. A filthy, nail bitten finger raised my chin.

“Hell, you’re pretty! How come you didn’t get the sickness?”

I clenched my muscles, tried breathing through my mouth. It didn’t help.

How long had it been? Had Missy and Laura reached the woods yet? I tried to sneak a peek across the bridge but the finger stopped my head turning.

“No Honey, it’s you and me now. What you got for me?”

I tried to smile at him. Like I’d seen Momma look at Daddy before they got sick.

“I’ll show you.”

I untied the front of my coat - and showed him.

The roar of the sawed-off twenty gauge made my ears ring, but the finger was gone, and the smell was now of gunpowder. He reeled back, toppling from the bridge.

I sprinted for the woods.

“Girls! Let’s play hide and seek! We must be quiet as mice.”

The gunshot would attract more of them, I knew.

300 words

@nickjohns999

This story was written for Rebekah Postupak's Flash! Friday Challenge #40 
It received an Honourable Mention from judge Anthony Marchese
who said:-
“A Walk on the Wild Side.” A horrifying post-apocalyptic world featuring a strong-hearted girl who will do anything to get her siblings through it. That’s the kind of sister you want.