Red Blood in Gray Mist
written by Henry Ridgeback
Every shadow can hide the greatest horror... (Warning: Horror Elements)
Last Updated
05/31/21
Chapters
5
Reads
469
9:00
Chapter 3
Soon, you could not go outside and see properly, for darkness ruled, and the heavy fog made it impossible to see. If I ran outside to call for the police, the officials would think I was the murderer. They would dismiss my stories about the pumpkin mask and the blood as a fake alias. The killer was probably inside the house.... waiting for me to run... watching me... I couldn't scream. This masked murderer would know where I was. I had to hide. Until morning. Then, the mist would clear up and I could see better. The house was dark. Shadows danced about, laughing and taunting me. The trick-or-treating had died down. No one wanted to go around the neighborhood when there was a thick fog surrounding them.
I looked around the kitchen wildly, searching for anywhere to hide, when I saw it. The knife drawer, the one that held the potato peeler, the butcher knife, and the silverware, was wide open. And two of the knives were gone. I knew where the first one was. The first knife missing was jabbed in Megan's chest. The second was gone without a trace, though I knew that its wooden handle and gleaming sharp blade were in the hands of this maniac. However, I couldn't find any spots to shrink down in and hide. I decided to take another knife for defense. This person was obviously in it for sadistic pleasure, not cold blooded murder. He or she wanted to taunt me, humiliate me until morning came. And then, I would die.
So, I took the butcher knife. Its blade was slightly rusted. Specks of mechanic reds and oranges coated its once gleaming sharpness. However, it would do. I rushed towards the stairs that went to the second floor. Maybe he was already up there. Maybe not. However, I needed to take cover. Slowly and carefully, I crept up the stairway. It would make an awful creaking noise if you stepped on it too fast, so I would have to take it slow. One step, then another, then another. There were thirteen steps. I just needed to climb up a few more. Creak! On the twelfth step up, the wood make a squealing sound. And at that moment, I know I heard a voice from downstairs. "There you are," it growled. Eyes wide, I jumped to the top, my legs trembling in fright. I got into the bathroom, the lights off and the air cold. I hid in the shower, behind the patterned curtains with holes in them.
Soon, I heard creaking sounds. The killer was heading upstairs. I heard its breaths, slow and ugly. Then, I heard the most chilling noise I had ever heard. Its deep, guttural cackle. I couldn't describe it. The laugh was not human. It was the laugh of a monster. No, not a fanged beast, but a human monster. A person with no empathy or heart. A person who cared not for human life. I was tempted to cry out in fright, but I had to keep quiet. The bathroom door slowly opened. The killer was feet away from me. The only thing between me and it was a shower curtain. I stopped my breaths. Its footsteps were dull, yet loud. I looked through a hole in the curtain. There it was. A person hidden behind that horrible pumpkin mask. It wore a black sweater, and he held a dagger, ready to slash.
And then, the figure looked straight at me, through the hole. It knew I was in the shower hiding. And I knew that behind its neutral pumpkin mask, there was a sick, twisted grin on its face. It threw open the shower curtain, as I screamed in terror. I was still for a moment, taking in all of the fear I was feeling. That malicious cackle emerged from its lips. It raised the dagger above its head and brought it down. The point of the blade almost punctured my skin. I jumped up in terror, gripping the butcher knife tightly. I brought it down on the figure's hand, but it jumped away, dodging my attack. Then, the figure's knife sliced my arm. It burned, but I had to run off. I rushed out of the bathroom, dropping the butcher knife, as I jumped down the stairs.
Then, I tripped. My body was hurled painfully down each creaky stair. I looked at the wound the killer's knife had left. It was deep and crimson, the pain only swelling. I scattered to my feet, as I heard those creaking noises, slower and eerier. The killer would not stop until I was a corpse, bloody and breathless. Suddenly, another noise rang out. The doorbell. Someone else was at the door. "Trick or treat!" a child yelled. No! There was a child at the door, likely one of the last trick-or-treaters. I went to the door and opened it, hoping to save the child. As the door opened, it creaked loudly. Every sound or noise could kill me. "Hi lady, nice fake corpse!" the little boy said excitedly, pointing to Megan's body. "Go far away from here, kid! You're not safe!" I whispered quickly. The child wore a look of confusion, but that look quickly turned to horror, as the figure appeared behind me. The boy ran off, as I felt a sharp, stinging feeling in my back. The knife. The knife was lodged in my back.
I closed the door. I turned around to look at the figure in the pumpkin mask. Slowly, I reached behind my back and pulled the knife out. It slid away painfully, leaving a bloody mark. I felt like falling to my knees in pain, but not until this psycho was finished. I raised the dagger and aimed it at its head, but I was never good at using weapons. The figure grabbed my wrist and twisted it until I dropped the knife in agony. The blade clattered against the hardwood floor. "Why are you doing this to me?" I cried, tears in my wide eyes. The killer laughed and replied, "Because I can!" It grabbed my neck, as it leaned down to grab the knife. But, I kneed the figure in the head. It screamed in pain as it fell to the floor. Without a second thought, I ran outside, and into the deep fog. The last sound from the house I heard was the ringing of the clock. The cuckoo clock rang nine times. It was 9:00.
I looked around the kitchen wildly, searching for anywhere to hide, when I saw it. The knife drawer, the one that held the potato peeler, the butcher knife, and the silverware, was wide open. And two of the knives were gone. I knew where the first one was. The first knife missing was jabbed in Megan's chest. The second was gone without a trace, though I knew that its wooden handle and gleaming sharp blade were in the hands of this maniac. However, I couldn't find any spots to shrink down in and hide. I decided to take another knife for defense. This person was obviously in it for sadistic pleasure, not cold blooded murder. He or she wanted to taunt me, humiliate me until morning came. And then, I would die.
So, I took the butcher knife. Its blade was slightly rusted. Specks of mechanic reds and oranges coated its once gleaming sharpness. However, it would do. I rushed towards the stairs that went to the second floor. Maybe he was already up there. Maybe not. However, I needed to take cover. Slowly and carefully, I crept up the stairway. It would make an awful creaking noise if you stepped on it too fast, so I would have to take it slow. One step, then another, then another. There were thirteen steps. I just needed to climb up a few more. Creak! On the twelfth step up, the wood make a squealing sound. And at that moment, I know I heard a voice from downstairs. "There you are," it growled. Eyes wide, I jumped to the top, my legs trembling in fright. I got into the bathroom, the lights off and the air cold. I hid in the shower, behind the patterned curtains with holes in them.
Soon, I heard creaking sounds. The killer was heading upstairs. I heard its breaths, slow and ugly. Then, I heard the most chilling noise I had ever heard. Its deep, guttural cackle. I couldn't describe it. The laugh was not human. It was the laugh of a monster. No, not a fanged beast, but a human monster. A person with no empathy or heart. A person who cared not for human life. I was tempted to cry out in fright, but I had to keep quiet. The bathroom door slowly opened. The killer was feet away from me. The only thing between me and it was a shower curtain. I stopped my breaths. Its footsteps were dull, yet loud. I looked through a hole in the curtain. There it was. A person hidden behind that horrible pumpkin mask. It wore a black sweater, and he held a dagger, ready to slash.
And then, the figure looked straight at me, through the hole. It knew I was in the shower hiding. And I knew that behind its neutral pumpkin mask, there was a sick, twisted grin on its face. It threw open the shower curtain, as I screamed in terror. I was still for a moment, taking in all of the fear I was feeling. That malicious cackle emerged from its lips. It raised the dagger above its head and brought it down. The point of the blade almost punctured my skin. I jumped up in terror, gripping the butcher knife tightly. I brought it down on the figure's hand, but it jumped away, dodging my attack. Then, the figure's knife sliced my arm. It burned, but I had to run off. I rushed out of the bathroom, dropping the butcher knife, as I jumped down the stairs.
Then, I tripped. My body was hurled painfully down each creaky stair. I looked at the wound the killer's knife had left. It was deep and crimson, the pain only swelling. I scattered to my feet, as I heard those creaking noises, slower and eerier. The killer would not stop until I was a corpse, bloody and breathless. Suddenly, another noise rang out. The doorbell. Someone else was at the door. "Trick or treat!" a child yelled. No! There was a child at the door, likely one of the last trick-or-treaters. I went to the door and opened it, hoping to save the child. As the door opened, it creaked loudly. Every sound or noise could kill me. "Hi lady, nice fake corpse!" the little boy said excitedly, pointing to Megan's body. "Go far away from here, kid! You're not safe!" I whispered quickly. The child wore a look of confusion, but that look quickly turned to horror, as the figure appeared behind me. The boy ran off, as I felt a sharp, stinging feeling in my back. The knife. The knife was lodged in my back.
I closed the door. I turned around to look at the figure in the pumpkin mask. Slowly, I reached behind my back and pulled the knife out. It slid away painfully, leaving a bloody mark. I felt like falling to my knees in pain, but not until this psycho was finished. I raised the dagger and aimed it at its head, but I was never good at using weapons. The figure grabbed my wrist and twisted it until I dropped the knife in agony. The blade clattered against the hardwood floor. "Why are you doing this to me?" I cried, tears in my wide eyes. The killer laughed and replied, "Because I can!" It grabbed my neck, as it leaned down to grab the knife. But, I kneed the figure in the head. It screamed in pain as it fell to the floor. Without a second thought, I ran outside, and into the deep fog. The last sound from the house I heard was the ringing of the clock. The cuckoo clock rang nine times. It was 9:00.