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A Scary Tale...i Hope; well, it's a scary tale...I hope.
Topic Started: Jun 4 2004, 03:40 PM (260 Views)
Kithas
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Pillow King
The preacher walked into town out of the cold, rainy night and headed straight for the local inn. His head down as he trudged through the muddy streets against the driving rain he failed to notice the lack of light coming from any windows. As he stepped onto the awning-covered porch of the Lucky Lassie inn, he lifted the brim of his wide black hat and looked up to the door. Only then did he notice how still it was inside. How the shadows inside seemed deeper than those out in the rain. Shrugging his heavy, rain wet coat off his shoulders he stepped inside. As he entered the lobby of the Lucky Lassie he looked about himself trying to make out where the counter stood. He thought to himself that it was dark, and in the rain he could easily have lost track of time. For all he knew it was well past midnight and the people of this small town were tucked away in their beds. He strolled over to the counter, reached out and rang the small bell to signal for the innkeeper. No response. He rang again, but still no one came to see who was arriving at this late hour. Then he heard a sound, strange in the deep gloom of the inn. Laughter.
A man's laugh: loud and harsh, coming from outside. He grabbed up his coat and headed back outside to see if there was someone whom he could talk to about this lack of service. But, as he stepped through the door and glanced about all he could see were the dark silhouettes of the town's buildings. A darker black against the already pitch colored sky. "Who would be out laughing on a night like this?" he wondered to himself. Then again, the laughter, louder now coming from the tavern across the street. No light shone through the windows however, and the preacher began to get nervous. He thought, no, it's just a late night drinker, perhaps the bartender getting himself something to help him sleep. He headed across the street, screwing up his courage and convinced he'd find a man in his cups laughing at some personal joke. As he got to the tavern however a strange thing occured to him. The doors were open. Now, in the middle of the day this would have been of no consequence. But this was not the middle of the day. This was past the mid of night, and there was a downpour outside the likes of which causes rivers to rage and cattle to drown.
He should know, as he was once quite the cowboy. Still carried a gun even. The bible made a fine shield, but in this part of the west one needed a sidearm. He reached down now and drew that pistol from beneath his long black coat. Holding his gun ready he pushed open the swinging door and stepped inside, into the black. "Hello?" he said quietly, silently wishing there was some small light for his eyes to adjust to. There was no answer. "Hello?" he tried again, "Is anyone here?" Again, no answer. He started to walk into the common room, pistol held at his side, ready for use at a moment's notice. "I said is anyone the...oof!" as he tripped over a chair in the dark, sending it sprawling to the floor with a loud crack. Reaching out to find purchase with his empty hand he gripped the edge of the table, bottles of whiskey falling on their side and rolling off the table, one to break upon the floor, the other to bounce along in the dark. Full bottles of whiskey. Shot glasses as well, he could feel them on the table. Still full of liquid, as if set out to be drinken.
"I need some light," he muttered to himself. Stumbling through the dark to the bar, he felt around until he came up with a lantern. Setting his gun aside he reached into his pocket and found some matches. As he struck the match and lit the lantern he looked around the room for the first time. What he saw only made him wonder more what had happened here. The tables looked as if they should have people sitting at them. Cards were set out to play, poker chips and money still in a pile in the center of the table. Other tables were similar, drinks still in their glasses, some half full as if abandoned in mid swallow. After looking around a bit he decided to head upstairs. The stairs creaked in the silence as he ascended, setting his nerves on edge again. As he reached the top of the stairs a shadow caught his eye. He looked up and saw a figure slip into one of the rooms down the hall. "Hey, wait!" he called, rushing to catch whoever it was. As he reached the room however he was surprised to find, nothing. There was no one inside. He searched the closet, looked under the bed, opened the clothes drawers. Nothing. A quick search of the other rooms turned up the same thing. Then he heard it again. Laughter. Coming from outside. Only this time it was accompanied by a voice. "Yooouuuu toooooo...ahee hee hee hee HAW HAW HAW!!!" Maniacal this time.
Rushing down the stairs the preacher ran out into the night, the lantern in his hand going dark as he ran into the rain. He gazed wildly up and down the street, trying in vain to discern whence the voice had come. A bump, up the street, and a dragging sound going into the general store. Running through the rain, slipping once in the mud the preacher hurried to the store. The door hung wide on its hinges, open to the elements. Rain already soaked the first few feet of floor inside the doorway. The preacher held his pistol in front of him, lantern forgotten in his left hand as he entered the store. "Who's there! Who's in there, in God's name come out!" he demanded. Only silence greeted his call. Then, suddenly from behind him a shout rang out, "YOU!" He spun and fired, his bullet taking the wild eyed man charging at him full in the chest. The man stopped in mid stride, slowly looking down at the hole in his chest, steam pouring from the wound as his warm blood met the cool night air.
The preacher stared at the man, eyes round, hand shaking as the shock of what he had just done sunk into his mind. The man turned about and stumbled a few feet into the street, then fell. He did not rise again. The preacher stood, horrified, then slowly reached out and slammed the door closed. He spent the rest of the night in the corner of the general store, behind the counter, gun in hand. In the morning, when the rain had stopped he searched the town for sign of human life. He found no one, but it looked as though there had been people there just a few minutes before. Clothes were laid out for changing, food was sitting on plates sometimes half eaten. It looked as though they had all just gotten up and left, for what reason he could not guess. As he walked back into the street he looked to where he had killed the man the night before. The man was gone. He walked over to where the body had lay and stopped. Written in the mud were the words, "IT WILL GET YOU TOO". The preacher turned and ran out of town, never to return.
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chluaid
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Bitey's Daddy
Admin
that... was damn good! It was compelling reading, is that yours?? If so, you're a great writer.. the story is really well-paced with excellent flow. Are you published? This is written by someone who should be :)
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Kithas
Unregistered

Glad you liked it. Yes it's my own work, I made it up as I went along. Mostly I got the idea from a Role Playing Game called Deadlands. Scary wild west stuff. The story is based on a game a friend of mine and I played that I also made up as we went along. I thought I did a good job with it cause he was getting really nervous while we were playing. He was the preacher from the story.
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CharismaticJinx
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Brackenwood Member
Story made my skin crawl at 2:12pm. Good job! :o

Well I'm easily spooked anyways, but that was well written! :)
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doom
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The Local Night Roamer
not that scary but it was good very very good.
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Muhyah
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Spirit of the Phoenix
That was very well-written. Is this the first Scary Story you've written?
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Kithas
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Pillow King
It's the only scary story I've written. And I wrote it a long time ago. Glad to see people are still bothering to read it though, cause I think it's one of the better stories I did.
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dutchess
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Brackenwood Lightweight
wow, i couldnt take my eyes off that! brilliant! x B)
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