Please feel free to comment, good or bad, and most importantly be honest...
This first story is one I submitted for writersweekly.com's 24 hour short story contest. It's titled Into the Darkness:
I pull
the jacket around me tightly and take cover in its warmth against the bitter
autumn cold and wait. What could be
keeping her? I think to myself as I glance at my watch and realize just how
long I’d been staring down the driveway, awaiting the fiery red headed child I
sent for groceries nearly four hours prior.
She had
refused to allow me to take her in the coach; I attribute that to one of the
many gifts of youth. While I see the hour walk as being a chore, one that can
easily be halved by taking the 10 minutes to prepare the horses for a quick jaunt,
she sees an opportunity to dance, sing and revel in the beauty of autumn
leaves. I can’t remember the last time I truly looked at the leaves with
anything more than a sense of mild indifference.
I turn
away and approach the door wanting some warmth from the hearth. I suddenly hear
a voice above the hiss of the wind, and I turn quickly to face down the
driveway again. I feel a pull in my cheeks as my smile grows and my worries
begin to subside slightly. The fiery red hair that hangs to her shoulders
bounces to and fro as she bounds her way up the driveway.
My
smile wanes as she gets closer and I see the mark on her right cheek, one that
was not there when she left. I rush down the stairs and drop to my knees,
pulling her to me. “Child, what happened?” I pull away and brush the deep red
mark with the back of my hand, I can already feel a tear in my eye.
“Mommy,
mommy come quick,” She pulls away from me and tugs at my arm. I brush the tear
away before it can fall; she is so insistent that I obey her and allow her to
drag me along towards the main road.
The
thought that she was dragging me towards whatever caused the nasty bruise
crosses my mind as we pass the halfway point of the driveway. I hadn’t even had
a chance to ask her where the groceries she was to have picked up are.
The
scene at the road is one straight out of a nightmare. Something must have
spooked the passenger carriage’s horses for it to have overturned with the
force required to reduce it to splinters. I swear I can still hear the horse’s hooves
thundering in the distance.
“Stay
here child, mommy will be right back,” I inch towards the carriage slowly,
fearing the horror I would surely find. I call out softly, and then slightly
louder, praying somebody will respond. I hear nothing, and proceed to what I
assume was the back side of the coach.
My
worst fears are brought to life as I see the young girl lying face down along
the side of the road. I approach slowly and grip her shoulder shaking her
gently in hopes that there is a little life left. I give up after a moment and
begin gently turning the girl over.
The
bruise on her right cheek causes me to jump to my feet and look back towards
the driveway. The site I see fills me with a terror I’d never felt. There was a
coach parked in the middle of the road and a man standing next to my daughter.
I run to her side, pick her up and hold her away from the man.
“Are
you ready?” The man sounds kind, fatherly even. I suddenly feel calm and at
ease at his words and I release my grip a bit. At first glance the man seems
normal, even the coach he is driving bears no special mention. Somehow, though,
I know what he is here for.
*As if
answering his command a man appears from the wreckage and approaches the coach.
I assume he is the driver from the over turned carriage, coming to answer the
call. He doesn’t glance our way, he only climbs into the open door and vanishes
into the blackness of the interior.
I turn
to my daughter who is smiling at me. Though I feel pain in my heart, I also
feel a type of happiness from the carriage and I know it’s bound for heaven. “It’s
your turn child, I will always remember you,” I do my best to hide my sorrow,
my pain. I want her to stay with me, be my child forever but I know what is
best.
She
holds out her hand for me to follow, and I lose control. I sob uncontrollably as
I shake my head, “I’m sorry baby, I don’t get to come on this trip.” The man by
the coach clears his throat. I break my daughter’s stare and glance at the man.
He is pointing to the carriage, specifically to a woman’s arm protruding from
underneath.
I look
back to my daughter. She smiles at me as everything begins to take hold, “The
man was nice and let me come find you mommy. He said that if you didn’t come
back you would be here forever. I would have missed you.”
She
grips my hand and we climb into the darkness...together.
