PhillisCreziles

I hope you enjoy this short story, and also enjoy your month of Spooktober! Also, favorites are much appreciated, thanks.

There was, this one night, outside was dark, gloomy, and in delight.

There was an od of chill, for a lonely child stood still, in a dim-lit cabin on a hill.

There was silence and no soundings, as nothing stood amongst his surroundings.

A rumble was suddenly felt through his legs, petrifying his every muscle without a line.

With such rattling and intense force. Ferocious as a lion on its very final course.

The trees in the distance shook in fear, and the child searched through his windows for what was drawing near.

The thunders of each step became more apparent, through his very own windows, which were truly transparent.

As speckled dust shook off of places and edges, that are never touched, the child thought about the staring darkness, a little too much.

For the storm was nearing its end, there was nothing he could do to savor his life, as there were no helping hands to lend.

The monstrous breaths were now so near, and everything was now so clear.

In an instant, with an instinctive, instinct of fear, he dashed under the only table he knew near.

But.

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Too.

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Late.

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The ceiling suddenly crumbled apart, and the rubble tumbled, from above like darts.

Revealing the crescent's light, still outside was night, and down came a giant hand reeking of tremendous fright.

Upon entry, its movements slowly ceased to a hesitating halt.

With bare-bone-fingers strung in torn flesh, that dare stoned a struggling thresh.

With rotting joints that twitched, and rugged points that itched.

From above this hand of death, the child felt a monstrous breath. It croaked the sounds of a decaying dead frog, and yet huffed like a dead drowned man buried in a bog.

A massive silhouette then overshadowed the moon.

It wasn’t a cloud nor a mountain, but impending doom.

Its lifeless and pale beady eye blinked forth into view, 

and stuffed fangs glistened in the wet gums of a maw that could chew.

It drew closer, 

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and closer, 

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and closer. 

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Yet so ever closer.

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Yet so cleverly closer.

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The child’s eyes could not see the ever-looming doom,

though his heart could certainly feel the weight of the ever-looming gloom.

With a muffled beat of his heart proved,

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the hand then moved...

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