#SoCS Oct 10/30 The Stranger: A Short Story for #Halloween
This short story for Halloween was written in response to Linda G. Hill’s Stream of consciousness Saturday prompt
This weeks’ prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is: “strange/stranger/strangest.” Use one, use ’em all, or just let them inspire you. Have fun!
The stranger: A Disquieting Short Story for Halloween.
Last night I was alone. I’m always alone, until the stranger comes. I was waiting by the unlit fireplace feeling the chill in my soul. My coat was drenched. Water slid down my hair and dripped onto the floor. The front door swung open and footsteps approached. I hid behind the heavy curtains and waited. What was this stranger doing in my house? He swiped his hands across his face, and then grasped the mantelpiece.
‘Where are you?’ He asked.
I dared not speak.
‘I can feel you,’ he whispered.
He turned to the window. I shuddered. He pulled back the heavy fabric and stood just inches away from me.
‘Why are you doing this?’
Thank God he couldn’t see me either, but I made sure he heard me. I blew as hard as I could. The wind brushed his face and shook the paintings on the wall behind him. They fell instantly.
‘Can’t we get on?’
I pushed him with all my might. He hit the mantelpiece.
‘Couldn’t you forgive me?’
I kicked the table. It flew across the room.
I pulled the lamp off the ceiling. It crashed by his side.
‘I didn’t see you. If I had seen you, I’d have stopped.’
I wanted to tell him how I felt. Alone. Nobody can see me or hear me, and I’m cold and wet, all the time. I’m in hell since he summoned me!
‘Your husband felt guilty, too. He sold the house and I bought it.’
I threw a glass jar against the mirror, above the fireplace.The splinters showered to his feet. All turns to silver glass.
‘I’m not leaving. You’re angry, but it wasn’t my fault. You were upset because he was leaving you.”
I flung a heavy book into his stomach. He doubled up in pain. I almost felt sorry for him, but he continued, breathing heavily.
‘So you went out in the rain, walked along the lonely country road, and I ran you over.’
I needed to silence his feverish mind, so I threw the kitchen knife. The blade brushed his ear and sunk into the bookshelf all the way down to the wooden handle.
‘Perhaps you’re right. I deserve to die. Then you’ll forgive me at last.’
I watched him pull the knife out of the wall and thrust it into his heart.
I was free to leave his psychotic mind forever, but I needed a new master.
I wonder which type of stranger will adopt me now?
I’ve had all day to think about this story before writing it down (as I looked after my grandchild and prepared Jack o’ Lanterns, etc.).
Nevertheless, I must admit. Although most of it did ‘flow’ straight off, I later went back and corrected much more than I normally would for a Stream-of-Consciousness piece. But being Halloween, and being a literary piece today, I allowed myself this small departure from the rules. I hope you don’t mind, Linda, and other participants.
If you’d like to read some of the other responses check out this link.