Web Fiction Directory
The Visit
Author/Pen Name
Jess Hartley
Rating
General(16+)
Status
Complete
Derivation
Original
URL (Web Link)
Votes
1
Visited
67
Meta Keys
vampire, fiction, short story, jess hartley
Excerpt
You wake, suddenly, disoriented from the depth of a dream which vanishes as your eyes flutter open blindly. The room is dark, too dark, not a hint of starlight creeping around window shades or door frame. The ebon unlight is thick, possessing a weight and life of its own, intangible sable across your senses. You strain, lids batting like a moth beating against lamp glass, even as you know it will be pointless. The dark will remain.
Then you hear it. The noise which must have drawn you from your dream comes again, a single footstep, bare skin against carpet. Whatever woke you is now one step closer. Mind whirling, eyes still straining against the unyielding night, your body remains perfectly still, a marble sepulcher statue, marking the place where you laid yourself to rest.
The air around you is still, and yet the sudden misting of fearsweat which crosses your brow feels cool in the evening heat. Fight or flight, your body prepares you, muscles tensing imperceptibly beneath the smooth cotton sheet.
And then, another sound. Almost inaudible, the gentle cooing of a mother’s whisper, the reassurance of a lover’s sigh, and against your will, you relax. One step closer still, and still there is no light, no hint of form of the intruder who’s dusky murmur seems to be insinuating it’s unseen way around your soul.
Your eyes, wide with trepidation, seek desperately for some differencing, some gauge of height or width or depth, but their journey is bootless, and still the wraithful whisper approaches.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Read the complete story at: http://tinyurl.com/TheVisit
Then you hear it. The noise which must have drawn you from your dream comes again, a single footstep, bare skin against carpet. Whatever woke you is now one step closer. Mind whirling, eyes still straining against the unyielding night, your body remains perfectly still, a marble sepulcher statue, marking the place where you laid yourself to rest.
The air around you is still, and yet the sudden misting of fearsweat which crosses your brow feels cool in the evening heat. Fight or flight, your body prepares you, muscles tensing imperceptibly beneath the smooth cotton sheet.
And then, another sound. Almost inaudible, the gentle cooing of a mother’s whisper, the reassurance of a lover’s sigh, and against your will, you relax. One step closer still, and still there is no light, no hint of form of the intruder who’s dusky murmur seems to be insinuating it’s unseen way around your soul.
Your eyes, wide with trepidation, seek desperately for some differencing, some gauge of height or width or depth, but their journey is bootless, and still the wraithful whisper approaches.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Read the complete story at: http://tinyurl.com/TheVisit
