I am thrilled to be part of the BlogFlash Halloween this year and hope to do it again next year. Thank You Terri Giuliano Long and The Indie Exchange! Writing a spooky story has been great fun:)
Wrong Number by Lynn Thompson
Valerie sank deeper and deeper into sleep. Her last thought was a great nights sleep is exactly what I need.
She remembered floating, then darkness. Everything went black around her. She sighed and snuggled deeper into her blankets. She fell further into the nothingness. A dark void consumed her.
Something was crawling up toward her from underneath her bed. Her breathing became faster, chills crawled up her spine.
No! Not Again! I need to sleep! She yelled into the darkness. She pulled herself out of her almost dream. A sickly sucking sensation overwhelmed her right before she opened her eyes. She blinked and willed her heart to slow down. She took a calming breath and rolled over. A tear leaked from one of her eyes. I haven’t had hardly any sleep in the last month, she thought as she watched her husband snoring soundly on the other side of the bed.
Stupid Dreams! Stupid insomnia! She screamed in her head over and over, attempting to stay awake, while she continued to watch her husband sleep. She wanted so badly to close her eyes and drop back into never-land, but she didn’t want to have the nightmare again. Every night this black hole called to her when her eyes closed. Every night she would pull herself out of it before that thing would show itself. Then she would stare at the ceiling for the rest of the night. Eventually her drowsiness took over and she drifted off back into the oblivion of black nothingness.
She opened her eyes with a start and stared into the unknown. She was still asleep, but couldn’t wake herself up this time.
“I’ve been trying to find you.” A rusty male voice whispered through her, around her.
A form slithered up from underneath her bed until its skull was a couple of inches away from her face.
Her heart froze. Her pulse quickened. Time slowed down to an unbearable crawl. The skull had no flesh on it, just a few strands of long wispy gray hair hanging from the back of its head. She could see the empty eye and nose sockets. The curvature of its aged orange/yellow spine with the disks jutting out at weird angles. Both of its skeletal hands were splayed out on the edge of the bed, like it was trying to hold itself up. It stared at her from blank eyes.
“I’m alright,” it said. The odor coming from between it gray teeth was noxious, it made her want to puke. “I’m alright. You don’t need to worry about me anymore.”
Valerie was speechless as she watched it slither back underneath her bed. Had she been worried about someone who had passed away? She racked her brain but couldn’t think of anyone. The thing didn’t seem familiar. At all. It had no spirit that she could tell. Why hadn’t she asked it’s name?
She held her self back from peeking under the bed and asking that question. She was frightened at what she would find, but at the same time not frightened at all. The feeling left her indecisive. She closed her eyes and this time fell into a deep slumber.
The next morning she woke to the sun shining through the curtains. She remembered every detail of the night before and knew in her heart that it wasn’t a dream. Someone-thing had really tried to contact her. Who could it have been? Why didn’t she ask it’s name? She had known so many people who had passed away in the last few years. More than she could count on both hands. But she didn’t know this one. It must have been a wrong number.