I’m switching it up this month for my short story post on the Lightning Quick Reads blog. Instead of another Tales from the Field soccer story, I dredged up and revised an old scary story I had written some years ago. I’m not at all into horror (books or movies), so it’s more of a thriller than anything else.
(For a more comprehensive lists of the many things that freak me out, stay tuned for tomorrow’s Ripples in the Inkwell post about fears.)
Here’s a sneak peek at the new tale:
Guardian Angel by Katie L. Carroll
The strange whooshing sound would have woken Serafina if she had been asleep. But she never slept well when her parents were out for the night. At the age of 16, she was far too old to be scared of the dark, but that didn’t keep her from leaving the TV on in her room all night long, door closed tight against the world.
At first Sera thought the sound was from the TV, which droned on in the background while she read in bed. She had avoided the psychological thriller on her nightstand in favor of a romance novel because she was in the mood for something light, or so she told herself.
She muted the TV and titled her ear toward the bedroom door. “Whoosh…whoosh. Whoosh…whoosh.” It was muted and slow, like it was coming from outside.
I wish Addie had been able to stay over tonight, Sera thought as she played with the silver cross around her neck.
Instead her best friend had ditched her for a date. Understandable—Sera would have done the same if the roles had been reversed—but she could have used the company.
Underarms damp with sweat, she threw off the covers and slipped out of bed, her bare feet sticking loudly with each step on the laminate floor. The door opened in silence, and Sera barely breathed. She clutched the molding and peeked down the hall.
“Whoosh, whoosh. Whoosh, whoosh.” It was louder than before, and coming at a more rapid pace.
Down the other end of the small ranch house, light spilled from the kitchen doorway. Sera’s heart thumped in her chest; she hadn’t left on any lights aside from the one in her room.
Maybe my parents are home early, she wondered…she hoped.
But then she would have heard the groan of the old garage door. Surely they would have come to check on her by now. Or at least the sound of them having a nightcap would be floating down the hallway instead of the “whoosh, whoosh” that continued to grow louder and faster.
An unearthly breeze blew back her hair and tickled the tiny hairs on her arm, raising goose bumps all over her body. Oddly, the cross felt hot against her cold skin…
To see how the story ends, hop on over to Lightning Quick Reads.