The creature that slid through his mind was sorting his thoughts – separating the “Hi how are you’s?” from the dagger stabs and blood mayhem that slashed the walls at night – a new apartment, another victim. He didn’t get it. He knew he was a good guy, but this thing had gotten in there and had been controlling him for days, maybe weeks. He felt so alone, now that he was a killer…
© kym darkly
One of my favourite short pieces from Ray Bradbury. I love listening to his talks. He was a writer’s writer and was so encouraging to other writers. His words live on. I still turn to him when I am doubting myself or the craft. There was so much love for the art in him. Beautiful!
A flame ripped out the tip of one wrinkled finger – blue, searing, cooking skin and bone. By the time she’d rocked hard enough to get herself up out of the chair her whole back was ablaze. She screamed and fell to the floor, praying for mercy. Had the Devil come for her at last? No. He didn’t need to. The spark had ignited from within. She was her own destroyer. Guilt quickly combusted her own human flesh and clean melted her fat away, leaving a sad old junkie-nurse charred into the trap door of the floor – a door that hid tokens of her secret murders below: patients that had died innocently at her hands…
© kym darkly
This crystal ball was different. It didn’t just glow; it tugged at her mind until it was pulled inside. Her slim fingers glossed slowly over it, caressing, feeling for futures, but today the Shew Stone didn’t want to entertain Tressa’s client. Today it had its own mission: to show her the imminent danger in her own life.
Tressa’s stomach knitted together with tight, steel fibres of fear. She could feel the answer coming to a question she had never asked. Black bubbles that she’d never seen before floated listless like a lava lamp beneath all ten digits that clasped the ball hard, as if to stop it. She shuddered. The ball she knew so well was warning her that something was coming to a slow, dark end.
Tressa angrily drew her hands form the crystal, but it exploded in response, throwing out black wax that consumed every inch of her. Falling to the floor, she fought the thick liquid like a fly trapped in a spider web – fought until it had worn her down, torn her apart, muffled her screams, and suffocated her. When the black sucked back into itself and dissolved, there was no more Tressa. No more future. Her time had come.
Remembering nothing, The client got up and left…
© kym darkly