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from guilt he came
#WritcoStoryPrompt28
Wide, frightened eyes took in the casual gait of the man walking towards her. Cold beads of sweat broke out across her forehead. It couldn't be him, could it?
It was him! That smirk on his thin lips was too cruel to belong to someone else.
But how could it be? She had killed him years ago!...
The memories flooded back like a tsunami crashing against the fragile shore of her mind. She remembered that fateful night, the moon hanging low in the sky like a malevolent eye watching their every move. She remembered the glint of the knife in her hand, the rush of adrenaline as she plunged it into his chest, over and over again, until his lifeless body lay at her feet.
And yet here he was, striding towards her with purpose, his eyes fixed on her like a predator closing in on its prey. She stumbled back, her heart pounding in her chest like a drum heralding her impending doom. How could he be alive? Was this some cruel trick, a nightmare come to life to torment her fragile sanity?
As he drew closer, she could see the scars on his face, the twisted grin that spoke of pain and hatred etched into his features. He reached out a hand towards her, fingers curling like talons ready to strike. "You thought you could get rid of me, didn't you?" his voice was a low growl, sending shivers down her spine.
She backed away, her mind racing with fear and confusion. This couldn't be happening. She had killed him, she was sure of it. But as he advanced, his presence filling the air with a palpable sense of dread, she realized the horrifying truth.
He was not just a man. He was something darker, something twisted and malevolent that had risen from the depths of her own guilt and remorse. He was her past come back to haunt her, a specter of her own making that would never rest until it had dragged her down into the abyss with it.
And as she stood there, frozen in terror, she knew that there was no escape. The man she had killed had come back from the dead, and he would not rest until he had claimed her soul as his own. The nightmare was far from over; it had only just begun.
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Wide, frightened eyes took in the casual gait of the man walking towards her. Cold beads of sweat broke out across her forehead. It couldn't be him, could it?
It was him! That smirk on his thin lips was too cruel to belong to someone else.
But how could it be? She had killed him years ago!...
The memories flooded back like a tsunami crashing against the fragile shore of her mind. She remembered that fateful night, the moon hanging low in the sky like a malevolent eye watching their every move. She remembered the glint of the knife in her hand, the rush of adrenaline as she plunged it into his chest, over and over again, until his lifeless body lay at her feet.
And yet here he was, striding towards her with purpose, his eyes fixed on her like a predator closing in on its prey. She stumbled back, her heart pounding in her chest like a drum heralding her impending doom. How could he be alive? Was this some cruel trick, a nightmare come to life to torment her fragile sanity?
As he drew closer, she could see the scars on his face, the twisted grin that spoke of pain and hatred etched into his features. He reached out a hand towards her, fingers curling like talons ready to strike. "You thought you could get rid of me, didn't you?" his voice was a low growl, sending shivers down her spine.
She backed away, her mind racing with fear and confusion. This couldn't be happening. She had killed him, she was sure of it. But as he advanced, his presence filling the air with a palpable sense of dread, she realized the horrifying truth.
He was not just a man. He was something darker, something twisted and malevolent that had risen from the depths of her own guilt and remorse. He was her past come back to haunt her, a specter of her own making that would never rest until it had dragged her down into the abyss with it.
And as she stood there, frozen in terror, she knew that there was no escape. The man she had killed had come back from the dead, and he would not rest until he had claimed her soul as his own. The nightmare was far from over; it had only just begun.
© All Rights Reserved
