Gothic Short Stories

She appeared like an apparition in the mist, walking in the dark. It was after midnight and not a soul could be seen on the desolate street, aside from her. She peered around, breathing heavily, as clouds escaped her mouth in the cool air, like dragon's fiery breath.

Up the hill, around the bend and out of the light, the only sound for miles was the rustle of leaves in the breeze, on this dark and eerie night. She crept along, as an owl hooted in the distance, past the rock wall of the abandoned park, a branch snapped somewhere to the right, a fearful journey to embark.

That moment a thought came to her as she glanced around with fright, an image so terrifying crept up within her sight. Decaying fleshy fingers protruding from the leaves left her walking this road with unease.

In the alley, she glances down, finding leaves of olive brown. Creepy lingering mist, in this distinct ghost town. Nervousness in everything she sees, timid of shadows belonging to the trees.

She quickens her pace as her heart begins to race. Only another mile until she reaches home, safe. Down toward the store, a creaking of a door, passed an open window a deep and growling snore. On she continues as it begins to rain, in the distance the clacking of a train. As the horn begins to blow, her footfalls slow. A patch of pure dark, ears so sharp, somewhere in the distance a Rottweiler's bark.

Across the road, and over the bridge, high and enclosed like the bars of a baby's crib. Fearful of the man who comes toward, passed undisturbed, breathing restored. On she presses, the more she stresses. Traffic much thicker, despite the hour. A night so silent, it makes her cower.

Her feet pounds the pavement to a steady beat. Persistently homeward-bound, her instinct never wrong. Head down, she walks, footsteps of a song. An alteration in the street, a shrill and booming voice, searching for another path, but there is no other