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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/868582
by Tabby
Rated: ASR · Fiction · Action/Adventure · #868582
A nightmare on a cold, rainy night.
It was a cold night, and all I was doing was looking out the window at the road, as the hail hit the ground. I held the candle close to my chest as the amber flame licked at the air, the wax melting down the sides as it melted in time. With my free hand, I pushed back, some of my messy brown hair behind my ear. I watched a car fly by, and smirked. I knew that the car was asking for trouble, asking for death. I placed the plate of the candle down on the table next to me, and folded my arms over one another laying my chin on them. Tapping my fingers idly in an unknown rhythm on the windowsill, I watched a cat dart from underneath the house to the street, but ran as quickly as it had run into the street back into my yard; I was worried. Pushing myself to stand, I slipped on my black fuzzy slippers. Picking up the candle and cupping my hand over the flame as so it would not blow out. I began to make my way down the dark hall of the house, my candle my only light. An eye darting around, as I kept seeing shadows pass by, but I knew it was only my imagination. I came to the front door, and as I reached my hand out to grab the doorknob, something just then happened; skeletal digits clasped onto my wrist. I screamed, but nothing came out as another hand clasped over my mouth. In that action, I dropped the candle from the shock; and as it dropped, I could see the many skeletal forms around me. The candle hit the floor, and bounced lightly as it broke in half, as a result the flame flickered out. I felt millions of skeletal hands grasping at my clothes, and tearing them. Skin cut and scratched. Trying to scream, but nothing came out.

          Waking up to that horrible nightmare, I could not breathe. Gasping for oxygen, clasping my hands over my chest, feeling my heart beating a thousand miles per hour, feeling the sweat roll down my forehead, my breathes were sharp and short. I looked around, grabbed the box of matches, and took one out. I stroke the match against the box, and touched the flickering flame to the wick of my candle, setting it aflame, dancing silently in the air. It was hailing outside, and I was just sitting there, watching it fall to the ground …
© Copyright 2004 Tabby (lachrymose at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/868582