The Letter
A Tale of Long-Distance Love
The sun had set over the city, and she was sitting alone on her balcony, staring out into the distance. She missed him terribly, but she knew he was far away, across the ocean. Suddenly, a gust of wind blew a letter onto her lap. It was from him.
"I miss you more than words can say," she read, tears streaming down her face. "I wish I could be there with you, but I promise I'll be home soon."
Just then, her phone rang. "Hey, babe," he said, his voice crackling over the line. "I have a surprise for you."
And with that, the doorbell rang, and she opened the door to find him standing there, holding a bouquet of flowers. "I told you I'd be home soon," he said, smiling. She couldn't believe it. He had flown halfway around the world just to be with her.
About the Creator
Keep reading
More stories from SK Pindiprolu and writers in Fiction and other communities.
At the Sheltering Doors
The doors, they always scrambled for the doors first. When they arrive and always by night it was a race to desperately bar the creatures entry to the house in the slow crawl of numb feet that the dream would impose upon him. He never seemed fast enough and the creatures uninhibited by the same constraints always made the doors first. The houses in his dream-scapes vary night to night - Some are mansions, others shacks and some are distorted contortions of his childhood home which burned down when he was ten. But the doors are always the same – frail, loose hinged and never could be fully shut. The creatures too vary – twisted and corrupted forms of animals and people familiar to him: family dogs preternaturally swollen to twice their size with rotting coats of mange and slicked damp with dark liquids of decay. The people too were bloated vestiges of ones vaguely familiar to him but whose names escape him. Their eyes gorged wide with dark blood which streaked their mottled faces in crusted trails like lost rivers which hung from their chins swinging in ropy columns beneath paling yellowed teeth. To let them break through would mean death. This he knew with grave certainty. At the door was desperation and panic as their stench emanated forth, sickly and pungent like vomit and mold and ending in a gruesome exhalation like cancer, the stench sticky and clinging invading his nostrils and lungs never to be expunged. Then in the sudden waking he never knew if he repelled them or not.
By Kevin Rolly5 days ago in Horror
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.