Michael Morgan
Fantasm: Horror Fiction
language
( Aug. 24, 2015)
As she fell through the air, Claire reassured herself the fall would not be enough to kill her and that the real killer would find her fast enough. But once she hit the ground, she laid there, numb and motionless, pools of red hot blood accumulating all throughout her body. As she knew the blood loss was too much to recover from, she recalled everything about the incident that consumed her every waking moment. The petrified look on her friends faces, their chokes of pain and desperation, the slight hint of almonds in the air.
Almonds…?
She scent of almonds suddenly triggered a new memory, unlocked it. She remembered smelling it in the party. Where exactly? She struggled to pinpoint the exact moment she smelled the hint of almonds. Suddenly, an image began to resurface behind her closed eyelids - the bottle of poison.
Hydrogen cyanide gave off the slight hint of almonds. Claire now remembers glancing at the poison as she searched for a weapon to use against Rev, how she knocked the bottle over while grasping for her bag for a can of pepper spray. She remembers it spilling across the ground and seeping into the pool but she was too disoriented to notice and too preoccupied to warn her friends. She realizes she killed them by accident, in the attempt to save them. Claire felt like her entire world was collapsing down on her, spiraling into her and smashing into her being. I killed them, Claire thought to herself. The autumn leaves blew around the crisp air, floating softly and slowly, as if to pay tribute to the tragedy below them.
“I am so sorry.” She whispered.
Claire felt as if this was the proper end. Perhaps this ending was the only way to do justice to what she had done. And so she stopped fighting. Slowly, but surely, she fell deeper and deeper into unconsciousness, as her eyelids struggled to keep open and her vision began tunneling. Suddenly, she was snapped back from her peaceful departure into awareness, as she heard a rustle in the leaves, then footsteps.
“How could you do this to me, dear Claire?” A liquid soft voice crooned from a distance.
She thought she was simply imagining things, hearing voices. Perhaps she had already entered the next life, and this voice was not real. But the sudden shadow that covered the light pouring from the lampshade proved Claire otherwise. There was definitely a dark figure standing right above her head - a man.
“If I wanted you to die quick and easy, I would have pushed you out that building myself. Instead I felt you deserved a more… dignified end. But we don’t always get what we want, or what we deserve, do we? We don’t get our happy endings because after all...
This is reality.”
Almonds…?
She scent of almonds suddenly triggered a new memory, unlocked it. She remembered smelling it in the party. Where exactly? She struggled to pinpoint the exact moment she smelled the hint of almonds. Suddenly, an image began to resurface behind her closed eyelids - the bottle of poison.
Hydrogen cyanide gave off the slight hint of almonds. Claire now remembers glancing at the poison as she searched for a weapon to use against Rev, how she knocked the bottle over while grasping for her bag for a can of pepper spray. She remembers it spilling across the ground and seeping into the pool but she was too disoriented to notice and too preoccupied to warn her friends. She realizes she killed them by accident, in the attempt to save them. Claire felt like her entire world was collapsing down on her, spiraling into her and smashing into her being. I killed them, Claire thought to herself. The autumn leaves blew around the crisp air, floating softly and slowly, as if to pay tribute to the tragedy below them.
“I am so sorry.” She whispered.
Claire felt as if this was the proper end. Perhaps this ending was the only way to do justice to what she had done. And so she stopped fighting. Slowly, but surely, she fell deeper and deeper into unconsciousness, as her eyelids struggled to keep open and her vision began tunneling. Suddenly, she was snapped back from her peaceful departure into awareness, as she heard a rustle in the leaves, then footsteps.
“How could you do this to me, dear Claire?” A liquid soft voice crooned from a distance.
She thought she was simply imagining things, hearing voices. Perhaps she had already entered the next life, and this voice was not real. But the sudden shadow that covered the light pouring from the lampshade proved Claire otherwise. There was definitely a dark figure standing right above her head - a man.
“If I wanted you to die quick and easy, I would have pushed you out that building myself. Instead I felt you deserved a more… dignified end. But we don’t always get what we want, or what we deserve, do we? We don’t get our happy endings because after all...
This is reality.”
- Pages
- 26
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