Prompt #3

Prompt #3

A Story by Kitt
"

Read for yourself

"
When I stepped outside, the whole world smelled like... moss. So misty, but a definite hint of what seemed to me like nature itself. It was quiet, too -- real quiet. People say the whole 'witching hour' thing starts midnight, but I don't think whoever came up with that has been awake -- and outside, alone -- at this time. My watch was about to chime three o'clock A.M., and I had a long morning ahead of me.
I took in the smell, the sight, the silence and meditated on it. It was quickly becoming tradition for me. Before even ten minutes,  I headed off; I knew the drill by now -- how couldn't I? It was such a habit now; seems hard to believe how scared I was the first time. I just remembered the silence... Cold, dark silence. The air was thick with fog and carried an essence of unwelcoming nerve. I felt as if the world was against me, watching me in disgust. Honestly, I wouldn't blame it. No time for petty thoughts and emotion, though, so I'll continue in present time, eh?
My grip tightened around the baseball bat I held, my heart reeling. I was so paranoid of everything around me, but with good reason. Head low I hurriedly ran across the yard, darting by the long-deserted road. Silence. I really couldn't tell if it was peaceful or disturbing. Kind of both. Ie  reached the yard next door and stopped to breathe. Not that I was tired, of course; quite the opposite. My heart seemed to skip every other beat and my hands were shaking. Is that healthy? Regardless, I was almost there, so I'd calm down soon. I got up and walked through patches of overgrown bush and vine, towards the back of the yard. Ironically, that house was abandoned and had been for years. Add to the story, much? 
Anyway, that was always my favorite part. It was just as scary as it was beautiful. Unlike the rest of my journey, filled with roads and dying street lights, all man-made and smelling of gasoline, this mimicked some secret garden unknown to humanity; mysterious, filled with magical opportunities. Yet, what I was there for was anything but lovely and magical. Sigh.. Enough chatter.
I brushed leaves out of my hair as I entered a some enclosed clearing. Very nice, I'd say, though it'd  be much better if I wasn't about to vomit from nerves. Almost there. I heard a train whistle. Far off, but audible. Running as fast as I could, I swatted branches out of my way, trying not think of all the creatures I could be stepping on. I'm pretty sure it's not season for snakes... Pretty sure. I finally reached the end of the tunnel -- created by nature, trees bowed over by wind and weight -- and found myself in yet another person's backyard, right next to the railroad. Man that must be an annoying place to live.
The field I found myself in dipped down into a steep trench, the tracks running along the bottom. I paced back and forth, afraid of the briars and thicket bushels I'd run into trying to make my way down. You'd think after all the times I've done this I wouldn't be so faint-hearted, but who knows what could be lurking underneath all those thorn bushes? I didn't have enough time to question it. Nearby, a couple dogs must have sensed my fear and sounded off for all to hear. I wasn't sure if they were chained up or not; I was halfway down the trench wall by the time I'd thought to look. Scared out of my wits, I was more falling than climbing to the bottom, but I got there in the end. Adrenaline kept me from feeling any pain that might have been afflicted upon me, but I'm surprised I didn't die of a heart attack then and there when I landed. I got up and took cover by a group of overhanging tree branches, but looked up startled to see the silhouette of a man staring at me on the other side of the tracks. There was silence for what seemed like an eternity, but then-
"I've been waiting for you." 

© 2017 Kitt


My Review

Would you like to review this Story?
Login | Register




Share This
Email
Facebook
Twitter
Request Read Request
Add to Library My Library
Subscribe Subscribe


Stats

150 Views
Added on July 16, 2017
Last Updated on July 16, 2017

Author

Kitt
Kitt

Aukland, New Zealand



About
Live to tell a tale more..

Writing
Racecar Racecar

A Poem by Kitt


Hurt Hurt

A Poem by Kitt


Homesick Homesick

A Poem by Kitt