Dear Reader,
This piece was submitted as a contest entry for spooky Christmas fiction. I didn’t win. Send rocks. 🙂
(If you want to listen to the narrated version, find the link at the bottom)
Heavy footfall followed Emory down the narrow cobblestone steps. Throat burning, she took gasping breaths as she ran. The recent rainfall made the steps slick, and her sneakers squeaked and slipped, threatening to lose their tenuous grip on the stones. Her hands trailed against the ancient stone of the buildings that framed the steep, sloping alley to brace her against falling. Voices of the crowd heading toward the city center, and the flickering light of the candles each person held, bounced against the slick surface of the alley masonry.
Gasping and shaking, Emory continued her descent. Stealing a look above and behind her, she saw the creeping shadow of the thing pursuing her. Its thudding footsteps drew closer.
She heard the crowd above her as it surged past the entrance to the alley. She also heard the voices of the crowd rising from the street below…so close. Each voice shouted a chaotic song of the holiday. Hands grasped makeshift candlesticks within which tall, yellow, gold, or red candles sat lit for the night’s celebration. Drunk men and women squealed and shouted with merriment. They moved as one body toward the towering Christmas tree for Christmas Eve’s countdown, and no one noticed Emory’s fight against death.
Slipping and skidding, she glanced behind her to gauge the distance between her and her pursuer once more. She saw it clearly for the first time.
Pale pink skin. Dull, hay-like hair. Long, clawing fingers. Legs slick—turned backward and hinged like the legs of an animal. Its face thin, pointed. Its pink eyes lifted at the edges with lashes long, thick, and black. Its movements were fluid. Elegant. Horrifying.
It thundered toward Emory, who stood frozen in terror. She hadn’t seen it in all its awfulness in the shop earlier. She had seen only pink eyes glowing beneath the hooded cloak it wore. Acting on her instincts, she ran. But now…now that she could see it in its entirety-! It emanated such powerful malignancy that Emory’s stomach turned, and she felt the contents rise in her throat.
“Emory.”
Her eyes flew open. She lay on her back, in her bed, in her room, in her house, on her street, in her city. Sweat poured from her. Her torso thudded as her heart rollicked in her chest. Wheezing, she gulped in great volumes of air.
A dream.
She stared up at the ceiling and willed her breathing to slow, her heart to calm, and the churning in her stomach to leave. The crowd below her apartment shouted and sang “Jingle Bells” as it surged past the buildings on her street on its way to the city center. Sighing in relief, she turned to look at her bedside clock. She saw pink eyes set in a pale pink pointed face and a smile full of pointed teeth beneath a head full of dull, yellow hair. The nausea returned and Emory shook with terror.
End.
Listen to the narrated version here. <<<–
Copyright Nathina Knight 2021. All Rights Reserved.
Est. 1980 