Over at Alternative-Reads, Sassy Brit hosts a 'Sassy Sunday Story Starter'. This Sunday was another line prompt and here is my contribution :).
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By Amy C
Word Count - 389
When the hair on the back of his neck raised and a shiver went down his spine, Edward was afraid to look behind him, for he knew that the darkness surrounding him would only alter his perceptions. He’d see things that weren’t really there, turning this shadow and that shadow into some terrifying monster out for his demise.
Edward continued his homeward path down the deserted alley; a shortcut to his second floor apartment. Why he continued to take this route after work he had no idea. The dark always made him feel as though he were being hunted. From the time he was a small boy he’d had this horrible sense that something hideous and horrifying was out to get him. And tonight those feelings only intensified. Perhaps it was due to the full moon hanging in the night sky.
Behind him, or perchance in front of him, he heard voices—quiet whispers and evil taunting laughter. His pace accelerated, as did the pounding of his heart. Only a few more feet and Edward would be in the sanctity of his sparsely furnished one bedroom dwelling.
Scraping sounds sifted through the night air, mingling with the low voices. He just wanted to be done with this night, lay in the comfort of his bed, closing out all the dreadful thoughts his mind conjured in the dark.
His hands shook as he gripped the old marred knob--cold under his sweaty palm. He turned it, opening the door. Quickly pushing it closed, shutting out the mocking cacophony of sound, Edward rested his body along the length of the aged splintered wood.
He released a calming breath, followed by another and then another. He attempted a derisive laugh at his foolish behavior, but it came out shaky and weak. This irrational fear of the dark would one day be the death of him.
Glancing at his reflection in the mirror hanging on the wall beside him, Edward gasped in horror as the sight of his glowing red eyes slammed unwanted memories into his mind--the blood, so much blood. He stared down at his hands as he turned them this way and that. Part of him wanted to scream in denial, but an evil, wicked laugh rumbled in its place. It wasn’t he who should be afraid of the dark.
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Tune in tomorrow for another edition of Monday Morning Flash Fiction! This weeks photo was submitted by the lovely Blodeuedd! And if you know her, I'm sure you can guess what type of picture it is ;).