Tag Archives: short story

He tore the axe from the mud, his eyes crazed. The screams came again and again, but he could not move. Was it the girl? Was it just the dogs? The eerie whimpers crept on as the moon rose high, and soon the snarling, panting, shifting, screaming sounds of the wild, hungry hounds pacing closer in the mucky grass came to his ears.

“Ah, fuck.” Charlie’d reached for his smokes only to realize he’d forgotten to get another pack. He hadn’t walked that far, but the thought of going back into that store and facing her again was too much for him.

The walk back to town was shorter than he remembered. Something about the way the sun was sitting and the slant of the hills, he guessed. His knees protested, but the rest of him was lighter now that he’d gotten a walk in him and some time to think of nothing at all.

He woke the next morning clutching his throat, the pre-dawn sky casting an eerie pink light across the dark room. His eyes ran to the door. The door with the latch. It was closed.

But before he could enter, it started to happen again: the itching, dry, thirsty feeling in the back of his throat, the blood rushing in his ears, his eyes blurred like he was drunk. I’ve only had two beers, he thought, panicked, scratching at his neck trying to get more air in; taking a few steps further and feeling a great weight against him, as if someone was pushing him away from the door.