Run. Hide. Run and hide.

Just a suggestion to weak stomached people...DO NOT READ. I never write horror because it scares the hell out of me because I’m somewhat of a baby, but it’s nearing halloween so I thought I’d give it a try.

She was given one job: Hide. And fast.

Heart racing, she tripped over in the dark running into the wall with a BANG! Gasping she kept running. To where she didn’t know. She didn’t have the sleep or concentration needed to think. The only thought was to hide. Hide and run. Run away from the shadowy figure pressing it’s hands on the large front windows, moving them decidedly over the window and marking it with bloody words: Run. Hide. Run and hide.

Sobbing back tears she rounded the corner to the kitchen and grabbed a knife as she passed the counter. Avoiding the basement, she sprang passed the entrance, backed against the wall, and prayed the door to the closet wouldn’t jam like it usually did.

CreEeeEEeeek... the door opened easily, and she shoved her small figure inside under the first shelf. Shivering, she tried to calm down, but the visions haunted her mind. The way she woke up to a sound of squeaking on glass like a window washer moving the washing wand over a window. How she got up and looked out the front window to see the figure of her late husband standing at the window frowning and writing on the window in a deap red paint she knew was blood even before she’d saw that the hands were fingerless and mutilated. How the songs in her head started then. A man singing along to the accompanyment of pianos and singing ladies like the olds songs on records with the crackling in the bacground...

Run. Hide. Run and Hide.

Let me know, so I can find.

Run. Hide. Run and hide.

Darling, you I’ll always find.

Run. Hide. Run and hide.

You are running out of time.

Run. Hide. Run and hide.

Before the night is done, you’re mine.

Run. Hide. Run and hide.

You didn’t twice before I died.

Run. Hide. Run and hide.

You should know I’ve never lied...

The song stuck going on forever wound itself around her brain making her nausious.

A strangled shriek and a gurgle followed by drips echoed for a minute, and she screamed at her own terrible mistake. The children. She forgot the children. She lept from her hiding place and stumbled around the corner. And found, with a gasp and audible sob the youngest, a small figure, tied to the light fixture in the kitchen like a goat with his neck cut through. A small trickle of blood ran over his bloody face, over his blood dyed eyes and through his hair. His mouth was open and pooled with the same thick red liquid that splattered the adjasent wall. Drip. Drip. Drip. A puddle on the table collected the drops from his neck and spilled over into a small trickle of on the floor near and under her feet. She bent over gagging, silent tears escaping her as the wretched scent collected in her eyes, nose, and mouth.

She stumbled through the kitchen into the living room toward the bedrooms tripping again in the same place, but regaining her balance as she heard the second shrill voice leap through the walls of the house. No, she thought. No no no no. The house seemed to moan and sway as she stummbled toward the bedrooms.

She slipped and fell again. The wooden floor was slick and wet and warm. And when she pushed herself up from the floor, her hands were a deep red. Gasping and coughing she pushed through the door to the first bedroom to see the oldest shaking and choking back tears. Releived she flung herself toward the bed where the child cowered in the far corner. I saw him mommy. I saw daddy. I saw him. she cried and grabbed at her mother’s arm.

The floor in the halway creaked and moaned slowly as if inhaling painfully and consequently exhaling in raggedy breaths. The two in the room huddled in the corner of the bed and a little boy walked in dragging a blanket through the red-stained floor. The woman exhaled and beckoned the child forward. Come here baby, she called soothingly, we have to leave home.

He cocked his head to the side as if he didn’t understand. The mother let out an unearthly scream peicing the night air as if a knife had been run over her skin, for as the child cocked his head, it drooped over his shoulder hanging by a strip of skin and muscle on only that one side while a fountain of blood sprayed from the arteries in his neck. A sucking gurgling moan slipped from his open neck, and blood spattered the floor and walls and bed, and the child kept walking forward as if he were supposed to be alive.

The girl sitting next to her mother screamed as well and ran out of the room and passed the boy before the mother could stop her. A second later, there was yet another sickly gurgle and the sound of a sink handle not turn off fully, and the shrieking stopped. The woman tumbled off the bed, away from the boy backing toward the door and followed the leaking tap sounds into the hall where the girl was slung over a chair, the back of her neck cut open to drain the blood from her body and let it mix with the rest on the floor as it trickled down over her eyes and through her hair down her arms to drip off her fingertips.

The woman tripped passed and down the hall to the front door. The song came back on in her head and she stopped for a second behind the glass of the front window and screamed. She screamed to drown out the song in her skull. Screamed from fear, and hate, and nerves. Screamed until her lungs and throat wouldn’t let her anymore, and she looked through the window to see the man, still painting: Run. Hide. Run and hide. over and over again on the glass staring toward her but not at her, just through her and frowing as though, by looking into her, he could see what she dreaded he could see.

She ran to the window and put her hands against the glass to make her own bloody hand prints. WHY? she screamed in agony, WHY? and then he was gone. And the song was gone. And the children. And the dripping. And the moaning. And the blood. The house was still as glass as she sank to her knees placing her hands on the ground and finally laid her head on the floor.

She knew why. she thought. Because I killed him. She smiled, closed her eyes, and fell back asleep.