Fiction Friday: [The Photo]

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Working late was bad enough without feeling guilty every time he looked at the photo on his desk. In it, Holly’s eyes sparkled, radiating warmth and, as always, her smile spread tightly across her face as she always made a point to keep her lips pressed together. Even now, despite the events of the morning, he was drawn in by her face.

Mark couldn’t remember what the fight was about, but he was sure it was over something stupid. And if he was being totally honest, he also knew it had been his fault. It wasn’t the first time he allowed stress from work to creep into his home life.

His eyes wandered once again over to his wife’s face after tapping away at his keyboard for almost an hour. His fingers froze and it felt as though his heart had, too.  His eyes burned and watered as he stared, unblinking at the photo. The same photo that had adorned his desk for almost ten years. Well, not the same.

Not anymore.

The only spark left in Holly’s eyes was one that ignited fear. Her tightly pressed lips now flung apart in a frozen scream of terror. Mark squeezed his eyes shut and convinced himself that he was just tired. Too many hours staring at a computer screen.

When he opened them, not only was Holly still clutched in the grip of fear, but Mark had to lean in closer because he noticed something else that hadn’t been in the photo before. A shadowy figure lurked behind her. His mind was sluggish with confusion and he reached forward, rubbing the glass with his thumb to make sure it wasn’t just a smudge.

His stomach knotted when the image remained and he scrambled for his phone, dialing his wife with quaking fingers.

“Hello?”

Relief washed through Mark when he heard her voice.

“Hey, it’s me. I just…I just wanted to make sure you were alright.”

“Yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” Holly said with a slight edge in her voice. The remnant of their unresolved fight.

“No reason. I was just…”

Mark’s words trailed off as he took another look at the photo. He was shocked to find that the shadowy mass had grown larger. As if it had drawn closer to Holly. As if it was right behind her.

“Mark? Are you still there?”

Before he could respond, the phone—and every molecule in his body—flooded with the sound of her scream. Mark watched in horror as the black outline of a hand slid over Holly’s mouth in the photo and his heart raced as his wife’s scream grew muffled in his ear.

“Holly, I’m coming,” he yelled over and over as he bolted from his desk.

Consumed with getting home and saving her, Mark never heard Holly’s phone hit the floor or the sounds of her struggling end. 

Moxie Monday: Never Settle

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Fiction Friday: [Galloway House pt. 2]

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[Today's Fiction Friday is a continuation of the story I posted last week. If you haven't read part one, you can find it HERE. As always....thanks for reading!]

Arriving just ahead of the ominous clouds and darkening skies, a car far fancier than ever seen in Townsley before rolled onto the village’s streets. With its emerald body sparkling under the last of the sun’s rays, it drew the attention of everyone it passed. Tinted windows only added to the mystery of who was behind the wheel.

The car eased slowly down Main Street and by the time the first drops of rain pelted the ground and turned dust to paste, everyone knew of the mysterious visitor. They watched, mesmerized and stunned, as the car took a sharp right turn and made its ascent up the hill toward Galloway House. The closer the car drew the more foreboding the enigmatic home appeared as the storm clouds settled over its slate roof and stripped away the details of its patterned bricks.

The car pulled to a stop and the villagers held their collective breath. The brake lights flicked off and they waited for the brave soul—or the fool—to reveal themselves. The driver’s side door eased open and something long and narrow and black advanced from the vehicle. Imaginations, along with the angle of the hill and limited sight from cloud cover, aided in the illusion that it was surely something sinister. Several people jumped when the object snapped open and then laughed nervously upon realizing it was just an umbrella. A black-panted leg was spotted briefly before lightning cracked blindingly across the sky.

So blinding that when everyone opened their eyes white spots floated lazily in their line of sight. After blinking them away, disappointment rippled through the villagers as they looked up the hill. The stranger was gone, no doubt already inside the house. With barely a glimpse, they had no idea if the person had been male or female, short or tall, but they would be the main topic at every dinner table that evening nonetheless. Theories and speculation would be tossed around. Embellishments would be added. By morning, the mysteries surrounding Galloway House would have many new chapters. 

Moxie Monday: Always

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Kick start  your week with a lil' moxie!
[Happy MLK Day!]

Fiction Friday: [Galloway House]

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Perched atop the hill protruding in the middle of the village, Galloway House loomed over Townsley. No one had been seen leaving or entering the home in years. Yet, every night, after the sun dug itself into the horizon and the moon cast a pale blue over the village, warm light glowed between the green shutters of the eerie, eye-like windows. And although shadows never crossed those windows, every villager bore the uneasy feeling that they were being watched.

The Galloway family’s history was steeped in mystery. Aside from their ancestors being the first to settle in Townsley, little more was known of them. Speculation and tall tales had been passed down from generation to generation. Each year the stories grew more fantastical and cautionary like a morbid, decades-long game of telephone.

To this day it was believed that no one could ever escape the long gaze of Galloway House. Those who have traveled far beyond the village’s borders claim that its image still flashed through their nightmares and questions about who resided behind its wall still tumbled noisily through their thoughts, even years after cutting the cord and moving away.

Younger children often stared up the hill, eyes wide with wonder before their parents yanked them away and explained to them—in hushed tones—that they were never to approach the house. As these children grew older those words turned into dares of ringing the bell which always ended with teasing. No one had ever summoned the courage to go past the middle of the hill.

In the distance dark clouds gathered and aimed their sights on Townsley. As they eased closer, an uneasiness spread amongst the town. A sense of dread that was as thick as the murky gray sky following in the clouds wake. An energy swept through the village and with it, the knowledge that they needed to brace themselves. The storm on their horizon would prove to be unlike any they had ever faced before. 

READ PART TWO HERE.

Moxie Monday: Be Limitless

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Fiction Friday: [Consumed]

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It didn’t come softly like a whisper. It announced itself with a startling bang meant to disarm and chase away all signs of rationale and sensibility, replacing each with an unrelenting tremble at the very core of who I was.

I now understood that nightmares existed solely to soften the blow. A baby step to the big show so that when it was on my doorstep, it wouldn’t create such a bounding bloat of fear that my heart would forget its purpose.

Hands trembled. Tears puddled. Heart pounded in a soup of disbelief and terror. But it was the feet that betrayed me most of all. Planted firmly in place, concreted to their forever spot. The spot where I would cease to exist, where I would morph into the very thing that tore a streak of heat through my gut.

And there would be no mercy.

The tearing. The cutting. The ripping.

Each flick and punch delivered so solidly I gasped for air and closed my eyes. In the darkness, pain and panic unified and foretold of the true torture to come. I fought hard to find comfort in my memories for as long as I could. I thought of sunlight dancing on water, of snow covered park benches, and of the rich colors of fall. I thought of smiling faces, of warm hugs, and of soft kisses.

Knowing I would never recognize the value of love anymore was the cruelest blow of them all. The weight of sorrow from the realization was too much to bear and my memories flickered. As the darkness oozed into the last vestige of who I was, I was almost grateful.

Moxie Monday: Find Your Way

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