The Face

A quick, short thiller about the mysterious occurances when you're home...alone.

The tap-tap-tap on the window pane dulled the silence, as the charred fingers of the trees stretched out like yearning arms. Amelia was sat on her bed, flicking inattentively through her magazine, skimming over the latest celebrity gossip and "Trends You Cant Miss!" with a remote gaze. She flicked the page, one by one, more entertained by the action of flicking then the content of the magazine.

A crash sounded from downstairs. She shot upright, staring intensely at the door which was opened onto the landing. She paused entirely, awaiting another sound to encourage her next action. She waited attentively, before calling out to see if everything was okay. There was no response. She didnt expect one. After all, she was home alone.

She swung her legs off of the bed, and with a creak, headed towards the landing. She grasped the bannister, leaning over the edge to peer downstairs. She could faintly make out the shards of a broken vase in the dark hallway below. She grunted, before whispering
"Mum is gonna' kill me." as she made her way down the steps. Before she reached the bottom, she slowed her pace. Something eery lingered in the air, unsettling her slightly. She shaked it off, blaming it on the paranoid instinct of being alone at night. She crouched down, collecting the pieces of shattered china up in her hands. As she reached across the floor for the final piece, she noticed the shadow of a person standing just behind her.
She threw herself round, dropping the pieces to the floor, cutting her hand as she did so. She looked around, though there was no one there. She turned back to the shadow, which too was no existent. Paranoia, she muttered to herself. She grunted once more as she noticed the blood gathering on her hand, and quickly rushed to the sink in the kitchen to clean the cut. She switched the tap on, and ran her hand under the cold water until it was numb.

There was a slight rustling in the next room, and Amelia was sure she could feel the subtle vibration of footsteps pounding the wooden floor. Her breath shortened suddenly, as she ducked down against the cabinet, clutching her numb hand to her chest. She shifted across the floor towards the hallway, although she wanted to remain hidden. She called out again, expecting no response. The rustling ceased. She halted, listening for another noise in the silence. After several moments, she became aware that it was all in her mind. She sat up, wiping her damp hand against her jeans, not noticing the face beside hers. The pale, bald head sat closely beside her cheek, yet she did not notice. With a sudden, bloodcurdling screech, it's jaw opened wide and howled into her ear.

She threw herself against the floor, her whole body refusing to cooperate as she let out a horrendous cry. She dragged herself to her feet, trying her best to run away as she flailed and scrambled. She thrusted herself into the shelter of the doorframe, turning to see the face had vanished. She stopped, panting desperately for air as she tried to regain herself. Sweat was gathering along her brow, and her hands quaked vigorously. Her chin began to tremble uncontrollably as she sat, eyes peeled, waiting. She did not want to move - and in fact, felt as though she could not move - a muscle, for fear that if she turned, the face would be there staring back.

She just sat, withdrawing into herself, waiting.

She felt as though she were being watched from every angle. Every morsel of her body was screaming out as though hands were just inches away from clasping onto her. She couldn't bare to move, but she couldn't bare to remain. She readied herself, and after counting to three numerous times, she lifted herself from the floor and rushed towards the stairs.
As she neared the top, she looked up to see something running - fast - towards her. She screamed, almost loosing her balance on the steps. The scream in itself made her blood run thick! She froze, as did the object. It was her reflection in the mirror. She inhaled deeply before looking back up to the mirror, only to see the face was right behind her. She screeched, turning to see nothing was behind. The confusion was muddling her sense, and the fear became unbearable. She needed to find somewhere safe. She needed to get away. She needed to leave. She ran for the door, only something wrapped itself around her ankle, dragging her slowly, screaming, backwards.

Author's Note

This is a short little piece purely written to experiment with something new! Please, I'd love to hear some critism about this, as it only helps not hinders! Thanks :)

Reviews

[V]

Exciting story, makes one want to continue reading.

[SquinklaPsyOps]

Measured, and extremely well written.

[Dan Fite, Jr.]

The first real issue I noticed was in paragraph 3, you kept beginning the sentences with the word "she". I myself am guilty of beginning sentences with the same word over and over again, and it's especially hard not to do when you have a story or situation centered around one character. None the less, it takes away from the story and really makes it seem repetitive and a little boring. A way to fix this, for example, may be to do take a sentence from your story like "She looked around, though there was no one there," and re-word it to something like, "Looking around, there was no one there." Just by taking out the repetitive "she"'s would make it better, because for me it did take away from the story.

Another thing that can be good when writing about one character in a story is to, instead of describing how she feels, write their thoughts like dialogue. Don't put them in quoatation marks like dialogue, that would probably confuse the reader, but perhaps italicize her thoughts and on the first few add on, "she thought to herself," or "she told herself," or "her mind told her."

One last tip, when writing inner feelings and discussing the heart pounding, or butterflies in her stomach, or stuff like that, really personify her inner being. "Her heart pounded viciously with her chest." Really make those things come alive; it makes thrillers a lot more interesting.

Overall, though, good story. I like how you've taken a fairly common thing and made it into a exciting suspenseful short. It's also something we can all relate to, since every horror/thriller movie about a killer ever made usually has someone get killed while home alone. I liked it, and you should for sure keep writing thrillers, you're good at it from what I can tell!

[Dan Fite, Jr.]

Oh, and hey, message me when you get the chance. I need to ask you something :)