| Horror and Thriller Fiction posted January 8, 2021 |
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When your dream becomes someone else's, beware.
Careful What You Wish For -
by Begin Again
Like eerie cobwebs, the thick fog draped the bark of the trees. Fallen branches, rotting tree trunks, and gnarled roots littered the forest floor; a dank, musty smell hung in the air. My accomplice had chosen the perfect graveyard for Catherine; a place no one would visit.
I pulled a crumpled paper from the pocket of my hoodie; directions, indicating my wife’s final resting place. Under the glare of the flashlight, I studied it closely before looking around, peering into the pitch-black night. According to the roughly sketched map, I needed to follow the yellow ribbons tied to the tree limbs. It seemed simple enough.
The pathway was precarious. Numerous times I stumbled, tripping and falling into the damp, soggy leaves. Most people would have stopped and turned around, but I was determined to have the satisfaction of standing over her grave.
It took more time than I expected, but that meant no one else would likely venture here. The mound of dirt near the fallen oak was difficult to see, hidden beneath the branches and leaves. I moved closer and whispered, "Hello, my love. I hope you're resting peacefully." I dropped a black rose on her grave; a plastic one leftover from Halloween.
A huge sigh exploded from my chest; relief. I hadn't realized how tense I'd been trudging through the forest. Life was looking up; my burden was lifted.
My thoughts journeyed back in time to a period when I was very poor and ridiculed by the rich. Their disgust was engraved upon my impressionable mind. I'd made a promise to escape that life and I did.
Catherine's flirting ways drew me in like a moth to the flame. She possessed all my dreams; wealth, respect, and freedom to do whatever her heart desired. Marrying her was the answer to my prayers or so I thought.
Over time I realized I was Catherine's boy-toy; a handsome, debonair specimen to flaunt in front of her girlfriends. I was expected to meet her demands, in and out of the bedroom. Her insatiable desires, followed by never-ending ridicule, drove me to loathe the sight of her. Thus, I find myself standing here, bidding her goodbye.
I took a deep breath; my first breath of freedom. "I thought I'd never know what it was like to be free of you."
A voice behind me whispered, "You never will."
Startled, I stumbled, falling head over heels. Sitting upright, I shifted my eyes to my left, right, and then left once more. I listened, but there wasn't a sound.
Nerves, I guess.
"Is anyone there?" I retrieved my flashlight; my lifeblood at the moment. I surveyed the area. "Who is it?" My forehead dripped with perspiration.
The hoot of an owl was the only response.
"Satisfied, Derek?" A man’s voice taunted me.
The nasty taste of bile coated my throat. I wanted to run, but run where? My brain was screaming, 'think Derek, think!'
Caught off-guard, I didn't recognize the voice. Was it my accomplice? Did Ivan think it humorous to terrify his best friend? Had he followed me tonight to tease me for gloating over Catherine's grave?
My voice cracked as I spoke, “Ivan, is that you?” My mind screamed for him to answer, “Come on, buddy, you’re not funny.”
Nothing! Silence. My ragged breathing sounded like a tidal wave inside my head.
Something or someone was out there. A branch snapped and then another. Were those footsteps or did I imagine them? Spinning around, searching the darkness, I snagged my foot on a tree root and sprawled across the ground. Fear, terrifying, mind-blowing fear, had a chokehold on my throat. I couldn’t breathe.
I gulped, swallowed, and gulped again.
"Ivan?" Distraught and a bit pissed, I pleaded, "It’s not funny. We need to get out of here. How about a good laugh while we chug a beer or two back at the house?" I prayed tempting him with the promise of beer might end his foolery.
Laughter rippled through the murky night; a woman’s voice. It certainly wasn't Ivan.
"Who’s that?" This was a never-ending nightmare. Frantically, I tried to remember the way out, but of course, all the ribbons were gone.
The woman laughed; high pitched, almost hysterical. Who was she? What did she want?
"Who’s with you? Was that a woman’s laugh?" Terror ripped through me. Had Ivan betrayed me? "Have you gone mad, Ivan?"
Something, maybe a bird, flew through the branches. The wise old owl hooted, but nothing else answered me.
I felt more than saw creatures moving. I jumped back, slamming against a tree. Two sets of eyes glowed in the dark. Their sleep disrupted, a family of raccoons scurried off, disappearing into the depths of the forest.
The realization of the day’s events suddenly engulfed me. I started to shake uncontrollably. Sinking to my knees, I buried my face in my hands and wept.
“Oh God, I’m sorry. I wish we could take it all back, Catherine.” A breeze touched my face and I cringed. I thought I saw women in wispy, cobwebbed gowns floating everywhere. I snapped my eyes closed.
The woman laughed. This time it was louder and closer. It was a hysterical cackle; like the witch in Wizard of Oz.
The intoxicating smell of Lady’s Desire assaulted my nostrils. I almost fainted. Chills ran down my spine. It was Catherine’s perfume. I argued with myself, ‘It can’t be! She’s dead, buried in that grave. Wasn’t she?’
Obsessed with the possibility of Catherine still being alive, I rushed toward the grave, frantically digging and clawing at the ground, wildly tossing the dirt aside, like a dog searching for his bone. For a moment, I forgot about anything but finding my dead wife. My hands felt her cold body. I froze.
“Oh my God. ” I dug deeper into the grave. “This can’t be! It can't!"
Denial gurgled in my throat. I began to vomit, over and over before collapsing. Catherine's head was missing!
My pathetic weeping manifested into blood-curdling screams, “Catherine, oh Catherine, I'm sorry.” My frantic voice echoed amongst the trees. “What have we done? What have we done?" Looking toward the moonless sky, I screamed, “Dear God, forgive us! What’s happening to me?
“You’re paying for killing my darling, rich cousin." At the sound of a man's deep voice, my head jerked from side to side My eyes widened with shock. I recognized the man looming over me and it wasn't Ivan.
“Thomas?
"Yup! Thanks for changing my life."
"Changing ... changing your life?"
"Well, your pal did!” He spat something gruesome into the dirt. Nodding his head, he continued, “She deserved what she got. Her daddy died and left her that fortune, making her Queen Bee over us all. Never once thought about her family.”
I tried to make sense of everything. Where was Ivan, my buddy, my partner in crime? I needed his help, fast.
Mustering an ounce of courage, I challenged Thomas, “My friend, Ivan, knows where I am. He’ll be coming soon."
A chuckle rumbled from deep inside his big belly, “He’s already here.”
“What?” I yelled at the top of my lungs, “Ivaaan , heeeelp me!”
“No need to beller like that. He can’t hear you."
Defeated, I simply asked, "Why? What have you done?"
Thomas reached behind him, wrapping his burly hands around the sledgehammer, waving it around before slamming it into the ground. Dirt splattered everywhere. I vomited uncontrollably. I clenched my fists and pressed them against my stomach, praying for the spasms to stop. At that moment, I wanted to die.
“You killed him?” I whimpered, wiping the spew from my lips. It was a little late for praying, but I did it anyway. Our souls were lost.
Thomas began telling his story. Lying in the dirt, I was too exhausted to object, knowing it wouldn’t stop him. He was claiming his fifteen minutes of fame.
“I was out cruising, enjoying a few drinks of white lightning when I saw this guy dragging something into the woods. Kinda weird because most townfolks stay clear of these woods.”
I knew. That’s why Ivan had chosen this spot. We thought we’d be safe. Boy, were we wrong. I allowed my eyes to size up Thomas. He outweighed me by at least 100 pounds. I needed to escape. Fat chance!
I sat upright, startling Thomas.
The sledgehammer whizzed through the air, slamming against the ground, only a few feet from my head. A sickening sound blasted the air. It was me, screaming in pure terror.
Unrestrained laughter bellowed out of Thomas. “Scared you, did I? You’d been pissing your pants if you’d seen what I did today. Your pal, well, he went stark raving mad. Yanked out what looked to be a machete. Suddenly, I hear this whack, whack, whack."
Beads of perspiration were popping up on Thomas's brow. "Bones crunching. Blood covering the guy. I'd never seen the likes of it, for sure. I couldn’t watch anymore. I hustled out of there."
The vision painted by Thomas turned my stomach. What had sent Ivan into such a frenzy? Had our plan been too much for my friend? I knew it was too late for remorse, but I was feeling it anyhow.
Thomas reached into his pocket, pulling out his flask, and took a long, noisy swig, breaking the eerie silence surrounding us. Strange, but I was thankful for it.
“My mind was buzzing. Some folks think ole Thomas is a bit daft but in seconds I had a plan. Grabbed my trusty sledge from the trunk of my ole beater and went into action.”
He slugged down another swallow or two. By his grimace, I could tell the liquor burned as it went down. His voice was getting louder and you could tell his adrenalin was flowing.
“I saw the fella movin’ fast toward me. He was in one big rush. Didn’t notice me behind the tree. I swung the sledge and missed, sent him stumbling to the ground. He started blubbering and spilling his guts like Yosemite spits water.” Clearly amused, Thomas chuckled at his own story.
I cringed. Poor Ivan. I'd pushed him in too deep and for what? If only -. The sound of Thomas's voice interrupted my sniveling drivel.
"Grabbed him and marched back to the grave. He was pleading for his life and offering me money, jewels, anything and I hadn't even asked. Course I thought he was crazy. By the looks of him, this was no rich stud."
I didn't like the murderous look on Thomas's face. Trying to distract him from anything rash, I urged him to continue his story. "What … what happened at the grave, Thomas?"
"That flaming red hair poking out of the ground. That's what happened!"
I tried to swallow, but couldn’t. He'd seen Catherine's beautiful red locks; hair she'd combed for hours, now covered with dirt.
Thomas scuffed his feet, like an angry bull sizing up the matador. In this case, I was going to be the loser. I eyed the sledgehammer, wondering if I'd have any sort of chance. I didn't think my odds were good.
Whether he read my mind, I’ll never know, but Thomas picked it up, swung it back and forth a few times like a warning. He spoke a little slower, but his anger was apparent. "Not even a proper burial.” It sounded like a sob.
“You know, killin’ the guy wasn't my plan. Just wanted to scare the bejesus out of him and score something in return. But that red hair wouldn’t let lose of Ole Thomas. I had to know who he’d whacked.”
Visions of the gruesome murder flooded both mine and Thomas’s thoughts. I gagged. Thomas snarled, "It was Catherine. I hated her, but she was my family. I snapped. Swung that sledge, splittin’ his head wide open. He’s lying on the other side of that fallen oak. Probably dinner for the bugs."
I couldn't even glance towards the oak. I prayed for salvation. I prayed for Catherine. I prayed for Ivan. I prayed for Thomas to drop over drunk so I might have a chance of escaping, leaving this nightmare behind.
Out of sight, out of mind. Who'd I think I was kidding?
Myself?
I sure was!
“It was one bloody mess. But -” Thomas stopped mid-sentence.
The sound of laughter, a chorus of women’s laughter pierced the night.
Shocked, all I could do was stare into the night. Thomas froze, his mouth hung open but he couldn't speak.
A beautiful woman stepped from the shadows, dressed in her Sunday go-to-meeting clothes. Normally, I would have found it hysterically funny to see a woman so improperly dressed; after all, this wasn't a town gala. Who would traipse through a forest, become embroiled in a murder, and be dressed to kill? Well, that wasn't the best thought to sneak out of my mind; dressed to kill, but then I was clearly not of sound mind.
"Thomas, Sweetie, you’re just as boring as always.” She laughed. It was the same laugh I’d heard all afternoon; a creepy, high-pitched shrill.
“Cat got your tongue?” Her voice was haughty. Gracefully, she moved closer to Thomas; like she was floating.
My eyes darted from her to Thomas and back again. Now what?
“Thomas, my love, what’s wrong?” She stretched her gloved hand out to him.
Thomas’s face drained of all color. He shifted his huge frame, backing away from the woman.
“Oh my, look at me, forgetting my manners!” She spun around, looking in my direction, “I’m Candice, the late wife of this repugnant man.”
“I thought -”
“You thought I was his accomplice. Hardly!” Her ruby red lips parted and she blew Thomas a kiss. He recoiled as if he’d been shot.
“Can … Candice, I don’t understand. You’re -”
“Buried in this forest. Is that what you were trying to say?” She laughed that spine chilling shrill again. “You left me to rot, to be forgotten forever.”
Thomas's eyes widen in horror. Grabbing the sledge, he hurled it at Candice. She didn’t flinch. Her shiny silver derringer flashed. He fell to the ground with a heavy thud.
I didn't have time for regrets. The gun flashed a second time.
I could feel the hot, gooey blood oozing from my wound. My head was spinning. Death was calling my name. I strained to focus on Candice. I couldn’t see her, but I heard that haughty laugh before slipping into oblivion.
“I’ll tell Catherine you send your regards!"
Horror Writing Contest contest entry
Like eerie cobwebs, the thick fog draped the bark of the trees. Fallen branches, rotting tree trunks, and gnarled roots littered the forest floor; a dank, musty smell hung in the air. My accomplice had chosen the perfect graveyard for Catherine; a place no one would visit.
I pulled a crumpled paper from the pocket of my hoodie; directions, indicating my wife’s final resting place. Under the glare of the flashlight, I studied it closely before looking around, peering into the pitch-black night. According to the roughly sketched map, I needed to follow the yellow ribbons tied to the tree limbs. It seemed simple enough.
The pathway was precarious. Numerous times I stumbled, tripping and falling into the damp, soggy leaves. Most people would have stopped and turned around, but I was determined to have the satisfaction of standing over her grave.
It took more time than I expected, but that meant no one else would likely venture here. The mound of dirt near the fallen oak was difficult to see, hidden beneath the branches and leaves. I moved closer and whispered, "Hello, my love. I hope you're resting peacefully." I dropped a black rose on her grave; a plastic one leftover from Halloween.
A huge sigh exploded from my chest; relief. I hadn't realized how tense I'd been trudging through the forest. Life was looking up; my burden was lifted.
My thoughts journeyed back in time to a period when I was very poor and ridiculed by the rich. Their disgust was engraved upon my impressionable mind. I'd made a promise to escape that life and I did.
Catherine's flirting ways drew me in like a moth to the flame. She possessed all my dreams; wealth, respect, and freedom to do whatever her heart desired. Marrying her was the answer to my prayers or so I thought.
Over time I realized I was Catherine's boy-toy; a handsome, debonair specimen to flaunt in front of her girlfriends. I was expected to meet her demands, in and out of the bedroom. Her insatiable desires, followed by never-ending ridicule, drove me to loathe the sight of her. Thus, I find myself standing here, bidding her goodbye.
I took a deep breath; my first breath of freedom. "I thought I'd never know what it was like to be free of you."
A voice behind me whispered, "You never will."
Startled, I stumbled, falling head over heels. Sitting upright, I shifted my eyes to my left, right, and then left once more. I listened, but there wasn't a sound.
Nerves, I guess.
"Is anyone there?" I retrieved my flashlight; my lifeblood at the moment. I surveyed the area. "Who is it?" My forehead dripped with perspiration.
The hoot of an owl was the only response.
"Satisfied, Derek?" A man’s voice taunted me.
The nasty taste of bile coated my throat. I wanted to run, but run where? My brain was screaming, 'think Derek, think!'
Caught off-guard, I didn't recognize the voice. Was it my accomplice? Did Ivan think it humorous to terrify his best friend? Had he followed me tonight to tease me for gloating over Catherine's grave?
My voice cracked as I spoke, “Ivan, is that you?” My mind screamed for him to answer, “Come on, buddy, you’re not funny.”
Nothing! Silence. My ragged breathing sounded like a tidal wave inside my head.
Something or someone was out there. A branch snapped and then another. Were those footsteps or did I imagine them? Spinning around, searching the darkness, I snagged my foot on a tree root and sprawled across the ground. Fear, terrifying, mind-blowing fear, had a chokehold on my throat. I couldn’t breathe.
I gulped, swallowed, and gulped again.
"Ivan?" Distraught and a bit pissed, I pleaded, "It’s not funny. We need to get out of here. How about a good laugh while we chug a beer or two back at the house?" I prayed tempting him with the promise of beer might end his foolery.
Laughter rippled through the murky night; a woman’s voice. It certainly wasn't Ivan.
"Who’s that?" This was a never-ending nightmare. Frantically, I tried to remember the way out, but of course, all the ribbons were gone.
The woman laughed; high pitched, almost hysterical. Who was she? What did she want?
"Who’s with you? Was that a woman’s laugh?" Terror ripped through me. Had Ivan betrayed me? "Have you gone mad, Ivan?"
Something, maybe a bird, flew through the branches. The wise old owl hooted, but nothing else answered me.
I felt more than saw creatures moving. I jumped back, slamming against a tree. Two sets of eyes glowed in the dark. Their sleep disrupted, a family of raccoons scurried off, disappearing into the depths of the forest.
The realization of the day’s events suddenly engulfed me. I started to shake uncontrollably. Sinking to my knees, I buried my face in my hands and wept.
“Oh God, I’m sorry. I wish we could take it all back, Catherine.” A breeze touched my face and I cringed. I thought I saw women in wispy, cobwebbed gowns floating everywhere. I snapped my eyes closed.
The woman laughed. This time it was louder and closer. It was a hysterical cackle; like the witch in Wizard of Oz.
The intoxicating smell of Lady’s Desire assaulted my nostrils. I almost fainted. Chills ran down my spine. It was Catherine’s perfume. I argued with myself, ‘It can’t be! She’s dead, buried in that grave. Wasn’t she?’
Obsessed with the possibility of Catherine still being alive, I rushed toward the grave, frantically digging and clawing at the ground, wildly tossing the dirt aside, like a dog searching for his bone. For a moment, I forgot about anything but finding my dead wife. My hands felt her cold body. I froze.
“Oh my God. ” I dug deeper into the grave. “This can’t be! It can't!"
Denial gurgled in my throat. I began to vomit, over and over before collapsing. Catherine's head was missing!
My pathetic weeping manifested into blood-curdling screams, “Catherine, oh Catherine, I'm sorry.” My frantic voice echoed amongst the trees. “What have we done? What have we done?" Looking toward the moonless sky, I screamed, “Dear God, forgive us! What’s happening to me?
“You’re paying for killing my darling, rich cousin." At the sound of a man's deep voice, my head jerked from side to side My eyes widened with shock. I recognized the man looming over me and it wasn't Ivan.
“Thomas?
"Yup! Thanks for changing my life."
"Changing ... changing your life?"
"Well, your pal did!” He spat something gruesome into the dirt. Nodding his head, he continued, “She deserved what she got. Her daddy died and left her that fortune, making her Queen Bee over us all. Never once thought about her family.”
I tried to make sense of everything. Where was Ivan, my buddy, my partner in crime? I needed his help, fast.
Mustering an ounce of courage, I challenged Thomas, “My friend, Ivan, knows where I am. He’ll be coming soon."
A chuckle rumbled from deep inside his big belly, “He’s already here.”
“What?” I yelled at the top of my lungs, “Ivaaan , heeeelp me!”
“No need to beller like that. He can’t hear you."
Defeated, I simply asked, "Why? What have you done?"
Thomas reached behind him, wrapping his burly hands around the sledgehammer, waving it around before slamming it into the ground. Dirt splattered everywhere. I vomited uncontrollably. I clenched my fists and pressed them against my stomach, praying for the spasms to stop. At that moment, I wanted to die.
“You killed him?” I whimpered, wiping the spew from my lips. It was a little late for praying, but I did it anyway. Our souls were lost.
Thomas began telling his story. Lying in the dirt, I was too exhausted to object, knowing it wouldn’t stop him. He was claiming his fifteen minutes of fame.
“I was out cruising, enjoying a few drinks of white lightning when I saw this guy dragging something into the woods. Kinda weird because most townfolks stay clear of these woods.”
I knew. That’s why Ivan had chosen this spot. We thought we’d be safe. Boy, were we wrong. I allowed my eyes to size up Thomas. He outweighed me by at least 100 pounds. I needed to escape. Fat chance!
I sat upright, startling Thomas.
The sledgehammer whizzed through the air, slamming against the ground, only a few feet from my head. A sickening sound blasted the air. It was me, screaming in pure terror.
Unrestrained laughter bellowed out of Thomas. “Scared you, did I? You’d been pissing your pants if you’d seen what I did today. Your pal, well, he went stark raving mad. Yanked out what looked to be a machete. Suddenly, I hear this whack, whack, whack."
Beads of perspiration were popping up on Thomas's brow. "Bones crunching. Blood covering the guy. I'd never seen the likes of it, for sure. I couldn’t watch anymore. I hustled out of there."
The vision painted by Thomas turned my stomach. What had sent Ivan into such a frenzy? Had our plan been too much for my friend? I knew it was too late for remorse, but I was feeling it anyhow.
Thomas reached into his pocket, pulling out his flask, and took a long, noisy swig, breaking the eerie silence surrounding us. Strange, but I was thankful for it.
“My mind was buzzing. Some folks think ole Thomas is a bit daft but in seconds I had a plan. Grabbed my trusty sledge from the trunk of my ole beater and went into action.”
He slugged down another swallow or two. By his grimace, I could tell the liquor burned as it went down. His voice was getting louder and you could tell his adrenalin was flowing.
“I saw the fella movin’ fast toward me. He was in one big rush. Didn’t notice me behind the tree. I swung the sledge and missed, sent him stumbling to the ground. He started blubbering and spilling his guts like Yosemite spits water.” Clearly amused, Thomas chuckled at his own story.
I cringed. Poor Ivan. I'd pushed him in too deep and for what? If only -. The sound of Thomas's voice interrupted my sniveling drivel.
"Grabbed him and marched back to the grave. He was pleading for his life and offering me money, jewels, anything and I hadn't even asked. Course I thought he was crazy. By the looks of him, this was no rich stud."
I didn't like the murderous look on Thomas's face. Trying to distract him from anything rash, I urged him to continue his story. "What … what happened at the grave, Thomas?"
"That flaming red hair poking out of the ground. That's what happened!"
I tried to swallow, but couldn’t. He'd seen Catherine's beautiful red locks; hair she'd combed for hours, now covered with dirt.
Thomas scuffed his feet, like an angry bull sizing up the matador. In this case, I was going to be the loser. I eyed the sledgehammer, wondering if I'd have any sort of chance. I didn't think my odds were good.
Whether he read my mind, I’ll never know, but Thomas picked it up, swung it back and forth a few times like a warning. He spoke a little slower, but his anger was apparent. "Not even a proper burial.” It sounded like a sob.
“You know, killin’ the guy wasn't my plan. Just wanted to scare the bejesus out of him and score something in return. But that red hair wouldn’t let lose of Ole Thomas. I had to know who he’d whacked.”
Visions of the gruesome murder flooded both mine and Thomas’s thoughts. I gagged. Thomas snarled, "It was Catherine. I hated her, but she was my family. I snapped. Swung that sledge, splittin’ his head wide open. He’s lying on the other side of that fallen oak. Probably dinner for the bugs."
I couldn't even glance towards the oak. I prayed for salvation. I prayed for Catherine. I prayed for Ivan. I prayed for Thomas to drop over drunk so I might have a chance of escaping, leaving this nightmare behind.
Out of sight, out of mind. Who'd I think I was kidding?
Myself?
I sure was!
“It was one bloody mess. But -” Thomas stopped mid-sentence.
The sound of laughter, a chorus of women’s laughter pierced the night.
Shocked, all I could do was stare into the night. Thomas froze, his mouth hung open but he couldn't speak.
A beautiful woman stepped from the shadows, dressed in her Sunday go-to-meeting clothes. Normally, I would have found it hysterically funny to see a woman so improperly dressed; after all, this wasn't a town gala. Who would traipse through a forest, become embroiled in a murder, and be dressed to kill? Well, that wasn't the best thought to sneak out of my mind; dressed to kill, but then I was clearly not of sound mind.
"Thomas, Sweetie, you’re just as boring as always.” She laughed. It was the same laugh I’d heard all afternoon; a creepy, high-pitched shrill.
“Cat got your tongue?” Her voice was haughty. Gracefully, she moved closer to Thomas; like she was floating.
My eyes darted from her to Thomas and back again. Now what?
“Thomas, my love, what’s wrong?” She stretched her gloved hand out to him.
Thomas’s face drained of all color. He shifted his huge frame, backing away from the woman.
“Oh my, look at me, forgetting my manners!” She spun around, looking in my direction, “I’m Candice, the late wife of this repugnant man.”
“I thought -”
“You thought I was his accomplice. Hardly!” Her ruby red lips parted and she blew Thomas a kiss. He recoiled as if he’d been shot.
“Can … Candice, I don’t understand. You’re -”
“Buried in this forest. Is that what you were trying to say?” She laughed that spine chilling shrill again. “You left me to rot, to be forgotten forever.”
Thomas's eyes widen in horror. Grabbing the sledge, he hurled it at Candice. She didn’t flinch. Her shiny silver derringer flashed. He fell to the ground with a heavy thud.
I didn't have time for regrets. The gun flashed a second time.
I could feel the hot, gooey blood oozing from my wound. My head was spinning. Death was calling my name. I strained to focus on Candice. I couldn’t see her, but I heard that haughty laugh before slipping into oblivion.
“I’ll tell Catherine you send your regards!"
 Recognized |
It's been a long time since I wrote a full fledged thriller so please be kind, but show me my errors.
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