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Death Comes Knocking – Horror Flash Fiction

February 10, 2016

Picture prompt from the FB Group Elements of Genre Writing

Angels of Death

Death Comes Knocking

They say you don’t know when your time is up. Some speculate that you wouldn’t want to know even if you could. I didn’t want to know, but I knew.

The weeks leading up to my demise should have been normal for a teenager. School. Friends. Fighting with the parents. Staying out past curfew. Getting grounded. I wish my days had been so care-free. So normal.

It began on a Tuesday. Chem class. I was sitting by the window and happened to look outside. Three eerily creepy women stood on the school common. Their hair billowing in the early morning breeze. Their faces stoic. They just stared at me. I glanced around the room to see if anyone else noticed them, but no one had. I turned back and they were gone. At the time, I just shrugged it off as a prank, even though Halloween was still weeks away.

The next incident occurred during football practice three days later. I’d just finished my round of catches and sat down on a bench. A shiver went down my spine even though it was a warm afternoon. I felt a shift in the air, almost like an electrical current and then they appeared again. Their faces switched from flesh to skulls and back to flesh, over and over again. I nearly shit my pants. One of the women opened her mouth and a booming screech filled my ears. I shook my head. Looked around at the others, but no one seemed concerned. I placed my hands over my ears and ducked my head down between my legs. Cried out in agony. The sound stopped. I lifted my head and the women were gone.

Their appearances came more frequently after that. Every day. Sometimes once a day, other times two or three times a day. They showed up during classes, while I hung-out with friends, during dinner, or when I was alone in my bedroom. They followed me as I walked down the street. Never saying a word. Just that annoying high pitched screech. And their faces. Always flashing back and forth. Their eyes just staring at me. No one else saw them or heard them. Just me.

I kept this to myself. Schizophrenia runs in the family. I didn’t want anyone to lock me away. Fill me full of pills. Dull my senses.

Near the end, I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t eat. My grades suffered. I alienated my friends. Dropped out of football. Holed-up in my bedroom. I just knew something deadly was about to happen to me.

And it did.

I woke up in the middle of the night, sweating. My head pounded. I felt weary. Hopeless. I got out of bed and dressed. Maybe a walk would help me sleep. I headed toward the nearby park. My feet felt like lead. My heart raced. I gasped for air. Each step was torturous. Finally, I just stopped. Stood still.

Lightning cracked in the distance. The night sky clouded over. A mighty wind nearly knocked me off of my feet. And then they appeared.

“Just leave me alone!” I screamed in despair. I’d had enough. I couldn’t bear it any long.

“It’s your time, Jason,” one of the women said, but her lips didn’t move. I heard her in my head.

“Fuck you! Fuck all three of you!” I screamed again and began running.

I headed toward the small pond in the center of the park. They followed behind me. Just slowly walking. After a few feet, I glanced over my shoulder to see how far behind me they were and slammed full force into one of them. I fell to the ground. Crawled away with my hands behind my body and pushing backwards with my legs.

“Why are you torturing me?” I pleaded.

“It’s your time, Jason.”

I stopped crawling and cried. Tears streamed down my face.

“But I’m not ready,” I said between sobs.

“It’s still your time, Jason,” they all three whispered into my head.

I stood up, brushed the tears from my face. “When?”

“Tomorrow morning.”

“Will it be a horrible death?”

“You won’t feel a thing,” they whispered and then disappeared.

So mom and dad, if you are reading this, please remember that I love you. I have surrendered to my fate. But they were wrong. I felt every bone crush. The snap of my spine. The explosion of my head as it hit the roof of the car. My blood draining. I felt it all.

©February 2016 Lori Carlson. All rights reserved.

(754 words)

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