Short Story: The Woman

Sorry if it is not that scary, or it is predictable. It is my first attempt at horror.

In a dark and sparsely decorated room, a lone man sat in front of his computer. The bright light from the monitor provided the only source of illumination. The sounds of clicking keys filled the room as the man worked. He scoured through endless pages of classified ads, looking for opportunity, until he found what he was looking for. Recently added, a posting reading ‘Fun Tonight’ appeared on his screen. The advertisement tempted with the promise of a woman, looking for nothing but casual fun. He replied to the ad with an email and a provocative photo. He soon got a reply back that invited him back to her apartment.

He drove through the dark night to the address given, anxious to meet the unknown woman. Walking up the stone steps, his heavy footsteps echoed as he approached the doorway. His gentle rapping was soon answered and before him, a woman stood before him. Tall and slender, her form resembled an hourglass. Her blonde hair cut short, it barely reached the nape of her neck. The man stood in awe of her beauty, drawn in by the cascade blues of her eyes. She looked him over and with a smile on her lean face, gestured him to follow her.

Two hours of heated passion passed as they succumbed to their lust, their bodies sweaty and worn. They soon reached climax, content and satisfied with each other. They remained in silence as they dressed themselves. The man soon left the apartment, with no intent of returning again. He returned home, tired from his encounter. His first instinct was to go to bed, and rest for the following day.

An hour passed as the man tried to sleep, unknowing what was going to happen next. He soon heard the sounds of whispers from the other room. Awakened from his slumber, he slowly walked to the next room to investigate the noise. Stepping into the living room, he found the television turned on, turned to static. The sound of the static hissing filled the small room. He was curious to know how the television was turned on, but did not give it much thought. Turning it off, he tried to return to his room, only to hear the sounds of footsteps. He went to the front door and grabbed the wooden bat lying adjacent. Raising the bat, he began to move to the source of the sound. He walked into the sparse kitchen, elongated shadows of pots and pans decorated the walls. Though he stood alone, the sounds of whispers echoed around him. The man ran into the next room, trying to find the source of the whispering. His breathing heavy, sweat began to run down his face as the whispering began to drive him mad. Scanning the room, he heard the floor creak behind him. He instinctively swung the bat with all of his strength, the sound of something being broken rung out in the room. The man opened his eyes, only to see that he had broken a lamp, the broken shards covered the floor in front of him. At his tipping point, he screamed into the night for the whispering to stop.

His screaming stopped as he felt a piercing pain. The front of his shirt pushed forward, blood began to stain the front of his attire. Falling to his knees, shards of the broken lamp pushed into his skin. Struggling to breath, the man felt a forceful hand pullhis auburn hair, bringing his head back. Looking up, he saw the source of his torments. The woman stood above him, her heel pressed deeply into the man’s thigh. Glancing at her left arm, she had several horizontal cuts that ran up its length. She leaned in close as she twisted the knife, her hair brushed gently across the man’s face. She soon whispered into the man’s ear “I never said it was NSA.”

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