(This post has been imported from an old blog of mine.)
Dark brown stains led down the hallway, a sticky substance showing the path my victim took. The stench of blood rose into the air. I followed the trail, heard ragged breathing from behind the closet door.
He tried to lunge for my knife as I exposed his hiding place, but the furry paws of a teddy bear are not very strong. I stabbed down, and more dark liquid poured from his wounds.
The sound of police sirens came from somewhere in the distance, I grabbed an arm and squeezed the blood into a container before running. Chocolate is so good.
Drabble is a form of extremely short storytelling, where you are limited to exactly 100 words. I wrote this one a long time ago.
(This post has been imported from an old blog of mine. Warning: Contains graphic descriptions.)
Somewhere in the distance I see her eyes, glowing green in the darkness. “Tes!” I call out for her, but she is already gone. I stand in the swirling black, watching the pine trees around me sway in the winds.
The world slowly rips apart, brightening and darkening in an erratic fashion. I know what is going to happen next, it happens the same way every time. A glowing white doorway opens in front of me.
I reach out, silently asking for help. A shadow comes to the doorway from the other side. Their eyes briefly show in clarity, an extremely pale blue. Then everything starts to fade, and the shadow’s eyes turn red.
I fall to the floor, and feel the stab wounds on my back. I reach for the doorway, seeing light reflect off of my hand. My hand is wet. With my other hand, I feel for where my guts were a moment ago.
I try to ask for help, but my throat only lets out the sound of a weak gargle. I taste bitter salt, my own blood and bile rising up. I feel ice water dashed across the back of my head, my face slams into the ground. It is concrete.
The cinder-block slides off of the back of my head. I wonder how I can withstand this much pain, and die.