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Horror Thriller Crime

This story contains themes or mentions of physical violence, gore, or abuse.

“I’ll be back soon Angel” my husband calls and I wave him off from the sofa, the front door softly slamming in the lock. It was our Friday ritual, the steady groan of the ignition and shifting gravel echoing through the wide bay window.

I had set up the living room as normal, basking in the hyper realistic fake candles I had found at the bottom of a discount bin and wrapping up under the white fuzzy throw and ripped leather sofa.

“Harley! The whipped cream is for me not for you” I mockingly scowled at the small white and brown dog which had plopped himself into my lap. “Fine you can have a tiny bit but don’t tell your father” I said smiling, his wide brown eyed lighting up as I swipe the top of the small mountain of cream off the tankard of hot chocolate.

Stroking his sweetly misshapen head, I remembered his pained whines from behind the shelter bars, thrown from a moving car, the young volunteer had told us. No one had wanted to adopt him because he wasn’t a pure breed or pretty enough and he cried too much.

“You’re my little cry baby aren’t you my sweet boy” my voice cooing, only responding by snuggling into the too big jumper, warmth echoing through my chest. “Do you still want to watch 101 Dalmatians?”, his little tailing wiggling in approval.

Leaning over the side of the sofa, stretching to keep Harley comfortable and grabbing the remote from the top of the flipped over cardboard box.

Sipping from the top of my mug, I turned on the film which my mum had gifted us after Clyde and I moved into our new home. We had overlooked the leaking room and rotting mattresses because those could be replaced which I had but we were still living out of card board boxes.

A sudden slow whimper lapped over the swelling noise of the movie. Sitting up straight , shifting a now sleeping Harley in my lap. Snatching the remote from the floor I turned down the sound of Cruel la’s voice, listening for the crying again.

“Clyde, love, is that you?” I said, calling out into the dark hallway, wrapping Harley in my arms and the blanket around my shoulders like a cloak. He wasn’t due home for several hours as it was Poole Night and he usually did not get home until at least 11 pm.

“Clyde?” calling louder, walking towards the front door the sound getting louder.

The feeling of my heart pounding in my chest beat heavy in my ears, recognizing the sound of a baby howling. Reaching up to the door nob and undoing the latch, tip toeing barefoot onto the cold concreting and looking around the derelict street.

“Where are you?”my voice a strained whisper as I wandered towards the get, shifting Harley in my arms and wrapping the blanket tighter in the night air.

Suddenly, branches snapped behind me and whipping around, thick plastic covered fingers grabbed cheeks digging its fingers into my cheek bones. Biting at the hand and trying to kick and screech I dropped Harley landing with a growl.

“Fucking dog” a mans voice but too far away, kicking and and biting and scratching at the attacker my heart banging.

What are they going to do? What about Harley? What about the baby?

Dragging my feet the man was trying to haul me away from the house, barring my teeth I began snapping at him like a raving dog.

Don’t let them take you away that is rule number one, the words of my secondary school form tutor had lectured us in our girls only Sex Ed classes.

“Clyde! Clyde! Help me please! Someone help me! Please let me go!” I scream, scrabbling away from the faceless black figures. Fingers and arms lug me and toss me into the boot of a car.

The black reeked beer and wood polish and shaking I try to twist myself round in the cramp space as the vehicle rolls around. Shoving the bile into the base of my stomach and the thoughts of what these men might want. I scream as the car goes over a speed bump and smashes my head against the roof of the boot, channeling the hot rage in my gut into blindly ripping the carpet away from where I can feel the outline of the headlights.

The sticky smell of blood fills the blank space, I cringe tighter into a forced fetal.

I have to get out of this I have to get back to Clyde and Harvey, so I keep grabbing at the carpet.

The screech of wheels against concrete causes the car to skid to a stop, the air in my lungs forced from my lungs as I double over in pain.

The boot opens and rough hands descend on me, forcing me from the car, heaving the thick stench of plastic is shoved down my throat shoving me into complete darkness.

Silently frog marched, my captor led my roughly, the heavy press of something sharp against the back of my neck.

“If you wriggle I’ll blow your brains out okay, love” stroking the back of my neck as I try to control my pace and breathing. I imagine being in the living room cuddled up with Harley and Clyde, just breathe love just keep breathing, his warm voice helping me focus.

Small chunks of broken up concrete dig into base of my feet as I stagger forward, straining away from the gun at my neck, a group of hushed voices to my left.

Asphalt concrete is replaced with what I can guess is lamented tiles as the bag is ripped off my head.

“Now now little bird. You have to wait until I say go, it’s only fair.” the faceless creature said, shushing me gently. I snap my teeth at his fingers but he still pats me on the head, screeching I stamp on his foot and he instinctively recoils.

Blindly I dart forwards into the silent black, a chorus of angry shouts echo from behind me, I have to get out.

Heaving, I duck into a side door, up the stirs, almost slip on a patch of something wet before hiding behind a large mass in the corner. Wrapping a bloody hand over my mouth I listen for the sound of footsteps in the quick darkness.

I try grabbing around me and find a pointy object, feeling under its edges I quickly drag it into my little cave. With no uncertainty that it must be a very high stiletto heel as I fiddle with the base of the shoes, picking at the peeling fabric.

Keeping myself very low to the ground I crawl out the tiny hole and stick my head out into the main part of the room.

A hole in the collapsed roof rimmed with creeping mold let in a beam of starlight, a gray mist which barely illuminated the space but it was better than complete darkness.

As my eyes slowly adjust to the new light, I am in a large open space, the hole had a half fallen down sign that read “Changing Rooms” the “C” was barely clinging onto the peeling wallpaper.

Sighing I crawled backwards on all fours, I can remember this place from drunk parities in the basement which stunk of bath tub gin and vodka brewed in sheds mixed with rip off brand cola.

Brandishing the stiletto in my left hand I crawl back into the light and clamber to my feet wincing at the alcohol burning the cuts on my feet.

Freezing I watch the outline of a figure in the corner of the space, my heart stuttered and waited for it too move but it stayed still.

Slowly I crept towards it the show raised above my head as condensation dripped in fat globs from the ceiling . Grabbing the wrist of the thing I sigh, it was wood, feeling its face it was just a mannequin.

Relief floods my veins I the urge to grab the lump of wood and hug it was overwhelming.

You can’t break down now, you have to get back to Harley and Clyde and to do that you have to get out of here.

Long nights with the wrong people had paid off in some case, there is an emergency exit in the basement but there was also another one. It was one only me and Clyde knew about on the second floor, we had found it the day we had our first drunk kiss of many.

Hope began its slow fluttering in my chest like the beat of a moth’s wing stuck in hot lamp.

Turning I began to tip toe down the through the fog of darkness keeping my back to the wall and body low to the ground. Keeping my ears pinned, creeping to the stairs which pierced the rotting department store, waiting for the sound of footsteps or laughing or cracking glass but there was nothing.

Making it too the second floor I wanted to race to the emergency doors, only a right then a left then another left.

Thrumming sound of my heart beat in time with my careful steps along the corridor , padding out if there was any discarded cigarette butts or fluids, human or otherwise, sprayed across the floor.

“Now now Angel, we aren’t done playing” a warbling voice shattered the dripping silence, my legs want to freeze but I force them into motion racing towards the door.




A hand hauls me away from the door, “Easy Angel, I am not gonna hurt you” the voice says, crackling as it presses something cold and metal against my throat. Stamping on the shadow’s fleet, I swing myself around and stab the darkness with the shoe and he screamed.

The sound of plastic smacking against the floor.

“Angel” Clyde’s gurgled voice shook the room. 

April 17, 2024 22:10

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1 comment

Kristi Gott
16:28 Apr 22, 2024

Vivid sensory details and fast paced action make this thriller's scenes draw the reader through the story rapidly. This is very visual with a lot of action like a screenplay. The horror mood builds and suspense keep building. Well done!


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