From my ongoing attempt to complete a first novel or at the very least short story….
“Margie Stamper almost made it to her porch. The motherless widow of forty-five didn’t stand a chance against the fierce and swift force that came at her just feet from her own front porch steps. She tried to scream out. Nothing happened. Dry soundless air released from her throat as the sharp stabbing sensation struck her in the back, knocking her to the ground. Again she tried to cry out as she felt her self lifted into the air. Her lungs began to feel with heaviness. Blood filling my lungs, she imagined. She twisted her head around to face the thing that now had her in it’s grasp. She might have died from the panic and terror of what she thought she was now looking at.
The mist seemed to grow densely around her body and flicker between dark night like smoke and grey mist. Margie thought she could make out a figure but there was nothing there, just the mist. Suddenly she dropped to the ground, was flipped over onto her back and the sharp stabbing pain of talons that formed out nothing dug deeper into her chest. Once again she was lifted up into the air a head thrown back saw nothing but the mist and a fast approaching darkness that seemed to speed toward her. The hills, it’s taking me into the hills…oh god this is it I am gonna die! Dear God what is this …how can this be…She screamed these words out inside her mind. If only they would have come out in the air from her mouth then maybe she would stand a chance.
She felt her body forcibly pushed down against the dead leaves and branches. She was in the hills now, still covered by this dark grey creature that swirled like smoke and she felt the life slowly drain from her body. Just before the darkness set in for good Margie Stamper saw the thick black almond eyes form from somewhere deep within the mist and stare down at her. The cold fear set in and suddenly she saw the steel like shimmer of teeth, like daggers, they came from the mist just as the eyes had and moved down toward her. Margie felt the harsh pain as those teeth sank into her flesh and began to drink from her.
Lifeless against the fall debris lay the corpse of Margie Stamper, only feet from the very porch that she had tried so desperately to get moments earlier. The dark and unnatural thing that had torn at her flesh and drank from her body now moved on to some new unsuspecting victim in the cold misty night just yards away and almost, just as Margie Stamper had been, close to the safety of the porch light beyond the demons grasp.”
By Rickey Russell
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