Something Old

This is an excerpt from an old story I started writing years ago for NaNo and never finished. One day I hope to be able to go back and finish it, but for now it just sits in a folder of mine called writings with other works of mine. Mind you there is a bit more to this than what is below, but I chose not to post it all yet.




It was a cry of defiance that broke the silence of the night. Those on the streets going about late night activities, mostly of a debauched nature, paused in their movements to eye the house. It wasn’t a fancy house being made of older stone weathered throughout the years. Ivy climbed its cracked walls and wrapped around the banister of its decrepit wooden porch, and white shutters hung brokenly from rusted hinges. It was obviously in need of repairs. Even the sun seemed unable to offer its reviving aid. Instead the rays just enhanced the death that seemed to flow from the untended grounds. The constant rain that fell never revived the withering trees or browned grass. People rarely passed its creaking black gate and any deliveries to it…well, the poor souls unfortunate enough to have this place on their route tended to leave them just inside it. Aside from music playing not a sound came from the house and its curtains were always drawn beyond grimy windows. Any who spoke of the house called it creepy and whispered that it was owned by a beast bred in the depths of Hell.


Something was different about tonight though. One could swear that the air vibrated with a feeling of anticipation. The streets became shadowed as black clouds rolled in fat with the threat of rain. Cloaks were pulled more tightly around bodies battered by the tough wind that began to scatter leaves around them. Chaos seemed impending and none could move as they waited anxiously to see what it would bring upon its fast beating wings.


First it’d been the cry that had drawn attention, but now people could see that light spilled unhindered out onto the rotting ground. Curtains had been torn down with rods hanging at an odd angle and inside the sound of a struggle could be heard. What had only been one outcry turned into many screams of agonizing torment. They mingled with the sound of loud crashes and shattering glass. Every so often the sight of two struggling forms could be seen passing in front of the glass windows only to disappear into shadow.


What was going on? Some brave souls moved forward upon booted feet to climb stone walls using holes in the decaying structure as a ladder. They ignored the stabbing of sharp bushes and the burning pain of scraped fingers to try to see what went on within the house. Others kept back as if statues, frozen in fear, they stared at the house while yearning to flee. The only thing both groups had in common was the raging beat of their hearts and curiosity growing in churning minds. All those observing knew that they should go find help for the person in trouble, but could not bring themselves to move. Later some would berate themselves for the depraved nature of their souls and pray for God to cleanse them of the sin. For now though, they watched.


It couldn’t be discerned if it was a woman or man screaming, or even if the person was one of those locked in arms. It was only when those two moved in front of windows that they got a look. The occasional back against a window allowed them the glimpse of long golden hair askew and fluttering of white fabric. Other times it was the sight of equally long dark hair, black as the clouds overhead, and swaying fabric of a matching shade.


Panicked minds came to several outrageous conclusions as the threat of a storm overhead increased. They whispered that this was a battle between warriors of Heaven and Hell, and that whoever survived would determine the winner. They prayed for the being in white, taking that as a sign of good, and clasped their hands in hope. None considered that it was more likely these were two beings of the human race and that one was in dire need of aid.

Blinded by the absurd ideas forming in their mind they could not think of any other option for what was occurring inside those depressing walls.


CRASH! The noise came out of nowhere, louder than all the others, as something flew through a window on the third story to land with a sickening thud on the damp ground below. Shattered glass decorated the ground around it and was made to sparkle by the light flowing out of windows. The contrast was gruesome. Those on the walls jerked as screams escaped parted lips and fell backwards to land on bottoms with a grunt of pain. All eyes were locked on the still form and none saw the shape that fled through the house during their state of horrified distraction. Only one sound broke the silence, music beginning to play and it made shivers snake down spines. It was a haunting melody full of both sorrow and hope that drifted on the air. Devoid of screams the night became more eerie and those who had not moved before began to twirl around with searching gaze as if danger lurked in every shadowed crevice.


Where as before feet were rooted they now were forced to move. Men and women moved uneasily away from the house in hopes of forgetting the events they had just witnessed. Torn clothing and scraped flesh was ignored as pace increased in their desire to disappear beyond this street. Guilt already began to eat at the insides of those who’d stood in observation of another humans’ torment. How could they do something so despicable? If they went for help they’d have to explain and be judged, and so they chose not to seek aid for the lifeless form. Instead they would pray for absolution for their sinful behavior once home. Out of the onlookers only one man slowly moved forward to peer through the gate with shaking hands at the body of the woman laying there…


If not for the blood pool forming beneath the figure he’d have thought it a broken doll. As if the Heavens mourned the loss of this soul rain began to fall and lightning flashed following a roaring clap of thunder to reveal a familiar face…


3 thoughts on “Something Old

    • Oh! I like those words. I do have a bit more to this story though, unfortunately, it’s not that much. I really wanted to finish it, but my muse crapped out and real life interrupted then I lost track of where I was headed with it. I’m hoping to get the bug for this one to return some day soon as I like writing murder mysteries/thrillers quite a deal too.


      • Definitely a thread to hold on to as I bet the muse will resurface at some odd time and send you back to add some more. The writing process, for me anyway, is definitely not a linear one, nor does it follow any particular order. I’m working on three manuscripts right now, one of which is over a year old already.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s