Courtesy Google Artist: Ian Joyner
We've all seen them I think, shadows that dart just outside our field of vision. They live somewhere behind our eyes perhaps, both in and outside of time. They are the old ones, older than time itself, ageless, wraithlike demons drawing us into the darkness of our souls. Or is it their souls that we are drawn into...do they live in us, or we in them? They lurk there somewhere in the ether, our nightmares give them form.
The cats can see them, I'm sure... You can see it in their eyes, looks furtive and secretive. You can feel them in the woods at night, their existence a mere whisper at times, yet real and somehow overpowering. Formless, yet with form. Like the spirits of the dead, coalesced and as cold and desolate as the grave. It was in the woods just outside of Portsmouth that I first became aware of their presence.
It was on the mile or so walk along the dirt road that traversed the wood that led to the big house by the bay. The road that separated the woods from the old cemetery. The house itself was a pretty cheerless place, devoid of the usual hominess that generally pervades such places. I was staying there with my friends Jimmy and Frank. They were normal enough but their parents were austere New England folk...the last of that generation of true New Englanders.
The summer's eve felt cold and empty as I plodded along the old dirt road, lit only by the gibbous moon. I became aware of something other present, something palpable yet ethereal...known but unknown in the wood to my left. Tentacles of terror gripped me from behind the trees; gone during the daylight hours but so very real in the night. The presence came not from the cemetery as one might think, but from within the woods. My pace quickened as I peered into the trees searching for something...anything.
I tried to summon my courage, as much as available to a 16 year old, small town boy. The terror consumed me now, a cold sweat broke out and the hairs at the nape of my neck stood on end. I was running now, the house only a few hundred yards away. The trees and what was behind them became a blur as I sped toward the house. As bleak as it seemed, it was a welcome presence to me now. I could see the lights in the windows beckoning. I was safe at last...for now.
But that was then and this is now... My name is Eddie Phillips, inmate #180748. I'm doing 15 consecutive life sentences plus 100 years. They say I'm a serial killer, but I didn't kill anybody, but I remember what happened. I'll die in prison, that I'm sure of. Before I do, I have to tell what really happened.
Very intrigued!
Thanks! I've always wanted to write a horror story, but everything has been done to death. I think I came up with something fairly original. The part about the walk on the dirt road actually happened so it was easy to write...There was something in those woods!
I enjoyed this! Very intriguing! The picture really set the stage too. Hope to read more.
Thank you...I've been writing for many years and have always wanted to do a horror story...I really hope you enjoy it!
wow, well done, @richq11 ! I love especially the "break" (I don't know if I'm using the right terms in English, I hope you understand ^_^) between the atmosphere in the first part and the sentences where the characther explain who he is (this last part is sharp as a knife). It's so intrigued and now I really need to read the second chapter!
Thank you...Thank you!!! You got it! I was so worried about the transition being too abrupt. I wanted the first part to set the mood before I started to tell the story.
I think it's perfect, @richq11 ! I'm really a lover of some horror/noir writers (from E.A.Poe to S. King, from Ellroy to Koons, etc ), so you can believe me ;)
On this one, I'm shooting for H.P. Lovecraft meets Stephen King. I like the way Lovecraft uses ellipses.
I can understand you, Lovecraft is really a Maestro on the way to write, very interesting. About King, I love his subjects that connect something scary with something usual in the daily life, something usual for us that becomes a nightmare ;) Now I'm reading " The Fantastic: A Structural Approach to a Literary Genre" by Todorov, it's an old book (1970) and a bit boring, but the author examine the fantastic genre in the 1800, full of interesting input and tought ;)
Poe was the master of the 1800 horror genre, in my opinion. What I like best about King is his sense of humor... in the midst of describing some horrific scene, he'll throw in some absolutely inappropriate piece of humor. For example, he was describing a cop at a gory crime scene and says something like "he couldn't find his ass with both hands and a flashlight."
As a writer, he really isn't that good (technically). If you read his dialogues, there's seldom any adverbs. It's all "he said" or "she said." There's nothing like "he exclaimed excitedly," or anything like that. BUT, he's such a masterful storyteller, you never even notice. I probably read 20 books or more before I even noticed.
I totally agree with you. I admit that, the first time that I read a King's book (the dead zone), my thought was "There's something poor in his "way to write", even if I like the subject", so I don't read other of his books for 1 or 2 years. I decided to give him another chance and I read Carrie. It was intrigued, with some of scary and something to think about it, the charachters was very interesting (I think this is one of his strong points) and, even if it's not very good in the write, I thought his imagination is really impressive. From that moment I decide to read more and more books, except Cujo (Yes, I can't read a book where a dog is a monster :D )
Love your writing style; was just searching your blog for part 2...is it up yet?
Remember...the rest is fiction based off of that experience. Some of the people are real, but I'm NOT a serial killer lol!!!