Happy Thursday, everyone! And happy first week of October.
Somehow it doesn’t quite feel like October yet. The weather’s been too warm, the trees haven’t really started losing their leaves yet, and hubby’s still mowing the lawn. The days are getting shorter, though; this morning it was still dark when I got up. Pretty soon we’ll be putting up Halloween decorations — at least those that don’t stay out all year — and watching scary movies now that I’ve finally been able to satisfy my Avengers craving. *g*
So to get us all in the mood for the scary season, how about a little supernatural horror story? I hope you enjoy “Hunters.”
Published by Thunder Valley Press
Copyright 2010 by Annie Reed
Cover art Konradbak | Dreamstime.com
The first time Shelly knew she dreamed in technicolor was when she saw her own blood splatter across a rough brick wall. The blood was deep maroon, each drop as big as her thumb, glistening and wet and oh so much of it.
Too much to lose and survive, even for her.
Maroon blood. Grey brick. The stone cold certainty that she was about to die. Over the years the nightmare had become familiar, if not welcome. At least she no longer woke up screaming.
When Collin touched her shoulder to wake her, Shelly sat bolt upright with her hands to her chest, heart pounding. Tonight the dream had been so real. More than any other night? She didn’t know, but she thought so. She half-expected her fingers to smear her tee-shirt with that dark maroon red.
“You had the dream again,” Collin said. It wasn’t a question. He had been with her too long. He knew her too well.
Collin brushed Shelly’s hair away from her forehead, leaned in and pressed his lips lightly against her pale skin. Collin was good to her, watched out for her, but he couldn’t understand. He didn’t dream.
“We’ve got a gig tonight,” Collin said. “You gonna be okay with that?”
Thigh-high boots, leather skirt and a baby-doll, all in black. Her stage costume. So different from the faded, oversized, Reality Bites tee-shirt she wore when she slept. Shelly tried to remember if she had been wearing the costume in her dream, but the details were elusive. Rough grey walls, dank, musty dirt under her feet, the heavy pounding tread of something chasing her — that’s all she remembered.
That, and the taste of dying. The dying part had been very clear.
(read the rest of the story here)