She could hear the gentle tinkle of the wind chimes, dancing in a dying breeze. But besides that and her raspy breaths, her house stood still around her in the fading light. A trickle of snot and blood ran down to her chapped lips. A light cold, that’s all the doctor said it was, but deep in her bones there was something aching, a chill she couldn’t quite shake. In the glow of her dying fireplace, she reached a veiny arm towards her night stand, where upon it lay her soaked crimson handkerchief. And with the groan of her body and her bed she almost missed the low creak of her front door opening.
The grandmother paused, shaky frail hand in mid air, and listened. Silence, you see, is curiously sinister when you’re all alone, just you and your thoughts and what you think was your front door opening. But she wasn’t expecting anyone, and yet she could swear someone was there.
It was there in the footsteps! So quiet, but the dark house must have hid the broken glass of her failed attempt to get water. There was a light crackling, like her joints on a rough day, that was just outside her open bedroom door. Her fire cast shivering shadows upon the wall, and she watched with panic as one of those shadows grew bigger.
She shouldn’t move. Maybe whoever it was would take what they want and leave none the wiser to her presence. But her outstretched body was tiring, shaking alongside her fear. And the shadow continued to move closer, footsteps now like ghosts. But that sound, breath other than her own. Deeper, grainier, more animalistic.
He entered her room, hunched over on two legs and entirely naked. He was startlingly thin, starvation shown in his ribs. His body was covered in patches of dark skin and thick coarse hair. And he seemed to be sniffing the air as he moved around the room. At the fireplace he stopped, sniffed, then turned, with the creak of a floor board, so that his dark hungry eyes now looked right into hers. And he ginned, a large maw opening to show off an array of yellow human teeth.
And he moved closer. Blood now poured freely from her nose, dripping off of her chin, and he eyed the fluid with great thirst. He was now close enough to touch her, and touch her he did. A Lumpy pink tongue darted out and began lapping at the blood. Terrified, she lost her balance and fell right into his fingered paws. They wrapped around her thin arms, bruising her bones. He was so cold, his tongue and fingers and breath. But she was too, now fully shaking. She closed her eyes when she felt him remove her clothes. And she kept them closed when she felt his teeth at her throat.
It was hours later, now fully into the night, when a young girl in crimson red entered the house.
I love the way this is written! It is very much a “Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark” vibe. The second to last paragraph was really the most striking to me – the description really helps reflect the scariness of the creature. I also really like the narrator’s connection with the audience – sort of like a “dear reader” moment. Overall, I think that your post was super strong in its description and because of that – brought a great deal of suspense to the story.
Dylan, this interpretation of LRRH from the grandmother’s perspective perfectly encapsulates the prompt and gives the reader chills. I admire how descriptive the writing is; it pulls the audience in. I think the way you describe the wolf is super uncanny by not ever saying a wolf. It is a wolf-like person.
Dylan, I love this interpretation! I think that this is really unique and at first I wasn’t sure where this was going at first, but I loved how it ended. And the way you described the wolf was great because I knew what it was without you ever saying that it was a wolf outright. I really loved the build of the suspense, I think you did an awesome job!