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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2211755
Rated: E · Short Story · Horror/Scary · #2211755
Based on news feed post by Unbear here on Writing.com - i was so inspired I penned this.
"The Clock"
Inspired by a news feed Comment by UNBEAR of Writing.com
N.A Miller

"Dum, dum, dummmmmmmmmmmmmmm!" - Unbear

An old grandfather clock chimed on a stormy night in the old house as it stood in the hallway. Flashes of lightning sparked in the night sky from the billowing black clouds that hovered like demons in the night. Thunder rumbled quickly after each spark of lightning, making eerie shadows upon the gnarled trees that stood around the dilapidated home. Rain drops pattered nosily on the roof as the rain literally was dispensed from the sky, water free flowing everywhere making the gravel road a stream and impassible by visitors to its doors.

Except one: Billy Ray Smith huddled in the corner of the living room with his younger sister Catherine, soaked and shivering as they listened with wide eyes to the creaks and groans of the old house. There is no lights save a lantern Billy had found in the kitchen and he thought he could hear moaning somewhere in the rooms around him.

Another creak and groan, and he thought he heard footsteps walking above him. He reached for the revolver that he had brought with him.

“Someone is there Billy!” His younger sister whispered and he turned his head to frown.

“Shush.” He told her annoyed, “If anyone is here, we don’t want them to find us very quickly. Besides if they come, I have the revolver.”

“I don’t like it here, can’t we risk the storm?” She whined, and he grimaced.

“We are very far from where the town we passed through, I think, and I don’t think I want to risk the storm or an accident before we know where we are.”

Another flash brightened the room, and another crackling thunderclap echoed through the forest around them. More creaks and what sounded like footsteps echoed through the eerie old house. Billy, lifting the revolver, held it steady, checking it briefly over.

“Good loaded.” He thought, flipping the chamber closed with a click.

Together they could hear the constant ticking of the clock in the next room, driving them mad by the annoying sound that it made. Nodding to his sister, they both stood up and he motioned for her to follow.

“We should see if there is anything here we can use.” He told her, “Let me go first, since I have the revolver.”

“Okay Billy.” She replied, taking his offered hand and they stealthily crept to the door. Leading with the pistol, both slipped through the door, and crouched with the light behind the table. Listening intently, they paused before they moved through the hallway toward the stairs. Together they climbed them quickly, and at the top of the stairs they positioned themselves out of sight near the edge of the wall.

They had left the lantern on the bottom floor, and he slowly poked his head to peek around the corner.

“Okay sis, this way.” He said, and carefully they made their way down the hallway, careful around the open doors. Peering in each door, they saw no one in them and together they entered the Master Bedroom. Here, they found another lantern and lighting it, the light spilled brightly over the interior of the room.

Little did they know that something sinister waited for them in the adjacent bathroom, a tall, transparent, specter-like creature that sucked souls that was trapped here in this house as a prisoner, feeding off the visitors and stragglers that would come to the interior of this place for refuge.

It is about six feet in height, its body covered in a shell of what appeared to be leather and lace over the thin silk shirt, and woolen pants, that it wore over its body. The creature had no face, just a sinister set of red eyes, a hint of a nose, and no other distinguishing marks that would identify sex, or gender of this creature. All it was is pure evil, a blood sucker as it would latch on and literally drain the life force from the very human soul. There were always no witnesses of the victims, their demise of death ultimately their fate.

“I want to go home.” Billy’s sister whined, and he turned his head, regarding her ashen face, and the look of fear that appeared there. He had not seen the sinister red eyes that peered at them in the darkness, but she had and had fought down a scream.

The young man turned and pointed the revolver at the specter-like creature, challenging it as it approached, giving the clear intention that he would shoot to kill as needed.
“Stay back or I will kill you dead.” The youth warned, “Stay back I say!”
The entity listen, or seemed not to not care, and continued its approach.
Billy took aim at the ghost-like image that had appeared in the darkness before them and pulled the trigger.
'Blam! Blam! Blam!'

Three shots rang out from the thirty eight caliber pistol and yet the specter did not seem to falter or slow. The youth prepared to pull the trigger once more, but before he did, glanced at his sister as she slumped against the wall.
“Sis!” He shouted in alarm, as he quickly felt for a pulse, and felt the rapid thrumming in her neck. She had only fainted.

They had to get the hell out of here, but did not know how. The creature was almost upon them, the youth held the pistol and prepared to shoot it point blank, aware that it probably was not going to help or matter.

Abruptly there was a bell and a shout echoed across the room.

“CUT!” A voice said, “I said CUT Goddamn it. Who are those idiots?”

Everyone turned and the fluorescent lights flashed on as another bell sounded. They peered at a young man with an older lady walked onto the set, they were holding hands. Stewart, the young man playing Billy, peered at the duo he recognized as his mother, and his young brother Sal. It had been on the movie set where Stewart had been selected for this part, a horror piece called ‘Where the Specter roams at Midnight.’ It is where he played the part of a brother, who with his sister was lost, finding their way to this deserted, spooky, and very haunted house. He turned again when the bell sounded and glanced at Shirley, the actress playing his sister, not getting up from the floor. He saw blood on her costume and rushed to her side.

“What the hell?” He thought to himself as he examined her quickly. The spot of blood was seeping into the white dress, making it a deep red.

“Holy hell! Get the paramedics over here right away. Shirley’s been shot!”

He had fired the gun with blanks, and as he had done so, had not heard two shots at the same time by an assailant in the darkened studio wings.

There was a shout and everyone ran toward the young woman who slumped against the wall. Paramedics always were on standby for movies, on hand for dangerous stunts that could go wrong. They ran across the set arriving quickly to assess the damage.

“She’s been hit in the lower abdomen.” The one paramedic said, working feverishly as he cut the costume. He peered at the wound in silence, at the gaping spurting wound, as the other put in an IV and put on the monitors for heart, breath, and other monitors of the body. A steady beep beep beep sounded on the machine.

“Get security over here stat!” The director yelled and the assistant motioned to the two men at the door, and to several others who took position around the set.

“They are already here, Mr. Burns.” A voice said.

Stewart ran to his mother and brother, taking up their hands.

“You guys should not be here, and should have waited in the outer wing near the door. There was a small lounge there.” He told them, “Also, I think a murder was committed too. Did you see anyone when you entered the set?”

“What do you mean?” His mother asked.

“Anyone look like they were in the wings or looked out of place.” The teen-actor asked again, “Someone must of shot her from the darkened wings.”

“No… I don't know... I didn't see anyone.” His mother said, and he motioned them back toward the lounge as he heard sirens. The police were here, coming in force, sounding like three or four cars coming to this location. In addition, to probably fire and an ambulance also arriving to help.

In the room, again the chime on the clock rang out, as if on cue:

Dooong! Doooong! Doooong! It chimed, followed by the incessant ticking but this time no-one was listening.
© Copyright 2020 N.A Miller (nathaniel451 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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