Short Stories

The Rising

The night was dark and haunting. Heavy clouds loomed over the city below, threatening a storm. The harsh wind howled, like a lone wolf of the night, blowing Violet Raven's ebony hair awry. She marched through the darkness with her arm raised to her eyes in an affectless attempt to shelter them from the rapidly falling rain. Her feet slammed against the gum-splattered pavement, desperate to make it home before lightening could ignite the sky. Violet had always hated lightening and its companionship with the roaring thunder. There was something sinister about the pair.

She pushed through the streets with the rain pelting her like the forceful bullets from an enemy infantry, adamant on victory. The freezing October night engulfed her, stealing every ounce of body heat her body possessed. Her body trembled as the cold gnawed at her finger tips, making its way up her arms, leaving trails of goose bumps in it's tracks. The cold burned the tip of her nose and her cheeks flushed crimson.

She paused beneath a street lamp that stood above her like a dazzling spotlight to catch her breath. Her heart pounded against her ribcage and her breath rapidly escaping as elegant as dancing smoke. Violet's blue eyes looked to the source of light. The moths flittered and flapped around the bulb, frantically fighting for warmth and safety from the winter that was to come.

She was half way home. It would take another 20 minutes to get there, but with her heart beat raising and her breath lost, Violet felt as though her body may collapse. She doubled over at the hip and the wind brought the sound of gravely groans to her ears.

Villainous, 

Dire,  

Hungry, 

Groans.

Her blood seemed to freeze within her. Barely moving as each and every cell scraped against her veins like deadly icicles. A cold chill became her. Fear consumed her. But curiosity drove her.

She turned toward the wind, the direction of the groans. Violet stood before the park, surrounded by tall wrought iron gates and looming trees dripping with droplets of rain. Another gust blew, bringing another groan in tow. What was it? What could it be? A drunken teenager crashed out across a park bench? A homeless man with no where else to go? Or something more sinister? Something deadly.

Violet's feet slowly carried her towards the park, her haste replaced with angst. Her wide blue eyes searched for any signs of life, movement. But nothing came to sight. The groan must be hidden within the darkness of the shadows. She slowly moved through the gates and stalked up the boggy field of slowly dying grass. The groans grew louder, forlorn.

But the field was deserted. The only sign of movement came from the children's swing set that swayed violently with the wind. The silence echoed against the trees, disturbed only by the eerie groan of the wind and swings. The hairs on the back of her neck stood tall like trees, shivers shimmied down her spine. She could barely feel the cold air anymore. Fear had control.

Violet felt her chest tighten, body weaken. Her knees shook beneath her weight, threatening to crumble to the ground. Her hair was flattened to her scalp and her eyes held wide. Something didn't feel right.

Thunder crashed. 

Lightening flashed. 

Rain poured. 

The grass growled.

The ground shuddered violently with the strength of an earthquake, like delicate china. The earth moved rapidly beneath her feet, the mud weak and fragile, collapsing. Violet screamed. With no-one around to hear her screams, there was no-one to save her from what was coming, what was rising. The ground gave one last grotesque cry of struggle and a rotting arm punched through the mud. Maggots fell to her feet and the ugly odour of decay invading the wintry air made it's way to her senses. A head emerged. A body. Then it's clumsy legs. Death stood before her, with its sheet white skin and its body stiff. Its sounds incoherent, only heard as groans, groans from the wind.

She heard the sound of growls surround her, closing in on her, like a pride of lion circling its prey, slowly, awkwardly moving closer. The stench grew unbearable and she felt vomit gurgle. There was no time. Time was short. Time was precious. Seconds away from almost imminent death, Violet prayed for a miracle which was sure to fail her.

A hand surged from the ground, grasping her ankle, holding her in position. Their was no escape. Her life flashed before her eyes and the pain vibrate through her body, breaking her bones, tearing at her cells, mutating her existence.

Within seconds of excruciating torture, Violet was gone. All that remained was her empty shell. Her soul lost to the universe. She was now one of them.

Monstrous. 

Ravenous. 

Dead.

The world became a victim, Violet a witness. A Witness to the beginning; the beginning of the end.