The Figure – Short Story 1

Disclaimer: This idea came from a “story starter” book (the first sentence is not mine.) I left it end in a way that I could continue on, but it does not have to. If you enjoy stories that tend to be a little creepy, please continue reading…

A figure appeared in the darkness: in the gleam of the moonlight, it was clear that it was holding a knife.

-300 Ways to Begin Writing a Wonderful Story

She stays hidden behind the tall oak tree, as she watches the silhouette sulk in the shadows. The knife is visible, clearly from one of those fancy kitchen sets, now ruined with a wet substance that stains the metal and slowly drips into the dewy grass. Her eyes stay fixed on the figure as it slowly moves into the light of the full moon which is fixated right above the highest branches on the tree. It is then that the realization hits her, sucking the breath right from her lungs. The features she sees daily, similar to her own, but now twisted into something almost unrecognizable. Her father stands in front of her with the knife an extension of his arm. The look on his face is one that she had never seen before, but is one to sure haunt her in her worst nightmares. His face is contorted with a mixture of pain, fear, and anger.

Thankful that she was still hidden in the shadows of the tree, which seems to be her only saving grace in this situation. She wonders to herself… What is he doing out here? Why is he holding the knife that once was homed on our kitchen counter? She continues to stare in his direction, carefully avoiding his sight. He wasn’t looking at her though, he was staring past her into the darkness that was made by the other trees and buildings near by.

After staring at him, while he is staring into the shadows, for what felt like an eternity, he began to move. Slowly his feet drug across the ground as he starts to walk in her direction. Her heart begins to race and she can hear here blood pulsating through her veins. The knife became much more visible and she could see clearly now that the wet substance is the same as what is coursing through her very own body. Blood.

The fear that she is trying to contain begins to rise like bile in her throat. She slowly swallows, but it keeps coming up. Her limbs are frozen though, as if there were 50 pound weights attached to each of them. The only thing protecting her now is the 60 foot oak tree that she is guarding herself with. With each step he takes towards the tree, her heart races faster and faster.

Thanks for reading! If you want to read more, comment and give me some crazy ideas for where this story can go!

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