Drip…
Drip…
Drip…
Water casually trickled from the bathroom sink, the only noise Georgia Jones could hear other than her own frantic breathing.
Drip…
Drip…
Drip…
What a horrid sound it was. A little noise that somehow still managed to strike so much fear in her fiercely beating heart.
She was curled up in a ball in her bath tub, hugging her knees tightly in an attempt to calm herself down.
It wasn’t working very well.
He was coming. She could feel him, sense his rage, smell the booze on his breath, and see the madness in his black eyes.
He was a shadowy man, with a dark purpose.
He was her father.
“Drive the snake…to the lake…the ancient lake…” The voice of Mr. Jones stuttering over lyrics from The Doors could be heard from the hallway, “The snake is long…seven miles
ride the snake...he's old, and his skin is cold...”
Tears began to silently run down her face, sliding down her cheeks and staining her plain blue shirt, speckling it like a silent rainfall splattering gray pavement.
“Where are you? Where are you Georgia! Where you going honey?” The slurred words bounced off the walls of the house only to be followed by what sounded like a glass bottle shattering. It was probably whiskey, her father’s drink of choice.
Drip…
Drip…
Drip…
She didn’t know what she was more scared of at this point; her father, or that damned dripping giving her away. The smallest of things seem huge when you’re horrified.
When Georgia was a little girl things had been so…different.
Her house; now a rickety, menace of hate and anger, was once a beautiful place filled with music, and love.
It was her mother Phoebe’s death that really changed everything. She was a beautiful woman “5’10” with a body that could stop a truck, and a face that could make you believe in love again. She could only be described as breathtaking.
Georgia remembered her mother used to play music all the time; in fact she was a music teacher at Georgia’s elementary school. Every single day at 6 o’ clock, right after dinner her mother would sit down with a guitar on her lap and play, she’d create wonderful music for two hours straight, playing with simple chords, and turning them into a symphony of marvelous noise. She also recalled her mother smelt like mint, peppermint to be exact, but a sweet smelling kind of peppermint, the type that reminds you of candy, and Christmas. She missed her, and yearned for her mother to scoop her up in her arms, and rock her to sleep like she was a little girl again.
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The Doorway
HorrorGripped with emotion, horror, and selfish desire, 'The Doorway' tells a dark tale of out running the cruel fate before you. Skylar Moore's destiny was decided for her in another life, when she was another person, but will she die just as she did the...
