When The Devil Met Her...

An extremely short horror story...

It has been a week since Mike spoke to her, making it their longest fight.

Soon after that visitor had left, he settled on the couch. Just staring at the wall, not blinking or breathing. He hasn't even wiped off that thick red fluid dripping from his nose, mouth, everywhere. Not even that horrid odour seems to bother him.

But what angered her was the fact that he had dirtied her knives. She'd managed to pull them out of his neck but that red goo wasn't washing off. Stupid Mike.

Her mind went back to that visitor. And his knowing smile.

At first glance, she had been terrified. Just being in his presence seemed to awaken the part of her that she hadn't known existed, the part most people spent their lives hiding- dark, cruel and evil. Every memory she was ashamed of, she was scared of flashed before her eyes.

His lean frame had been hidden by a black coat that clearly needed washing. There had been white stains all over it- for a moment they had looked like pale human faces screaming and wailing- and they added to her terror. She wanted to run away or scream for help.

But that's when she had looked into his eyes-red like blood.

No, red like roses, something whispered. The same thing told her to relax. He was no enemy. And so she didn't flee. Didn't scream. She listened to his silk voice instead. So calming.

She doesn't remember much of the conversation.

Only about how he had apologised for the inconvenience. She had to help him because his workers were on strike. Something involving knives. She doesn't remember too clearly.

She just needed to help him.

 And so she had.

And Mike hasn't spoken to her ever since...

Reviews

[Marie]

Very good. You convay the meaning clearly, without wasted words.

[blueash]

Thank you.