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SSC3: Man Of The Well
A floorboard creaked; I nervously rushed behind the cover of a nearby wooden box, stuttering as I went. The half moon shone brightly through the shattered window, casting the shadow of the box onto the dark and bare floor. I shivered nervously in the sharp eerie cold; hairs prickled the back of my neck. I knew that if I moved even a muscle I would give away the place where I was concealed. The wind battered the opposing side of the building with its relentless strength; it wanted in. The door suddenly shuddered open, just far enough so that I could see a passage of light through the hinge. The footsteps I had previously heard were now gone. It was around that time when the light that is left plays tricks on you, almost like it is taunting you.
Abruptly the entrance again jolted out of position, and this time a man emerged. I noticed how he cautiously trod across the aged floorboards, which sent shrills down my spine as they creaked. I was the only person in this derelict hut who knew that there were two of us here; the man did not seem to have a clue. I didn't know who this rather tall and well-built figure was or what he could do to me, but on first glance he looked like he could easily harm somebody. My fear was growing rapidly as the man started to walk towards the box and my hiding place. I almost panicked, and trembled out of position, but suddenly the man turned, and fled from the room, slamming the door shut on his way.
As the man turned the moonlight lit up his old craggy face, all of a sudden I realized that I recognised this man. Surely the legends, these old fairy tales about crazed lunatics could not be true. Surely this was not the man of the well, who supposedly crept out in the late hours to rape, slaughter and feast on the remaining corpse of any people that got in his path. I thought that sick mortal was just a scare tactic employed by local parents, in order to stop them breaking a curfew. Yet the more I started to think about it the more it became true. Why would parents conjure up such sick images for their kids to ponder over? Really…are these absurd rumours true?
I crept wearily towards the door leading to the wide exterior. The sky was scorched crimson as the obscurity of night overpowered the light of day. In the distance the picturesque profile of nearby towns and villages was traceable under the blanket of radiant silver stars. The recent rain broke into a light fall of snow, and as the crystallised snowflakes descended delicately from the sky, the few rays of remaining light shone through the bare branches of an old oak tree, before giving way to a vivid full moon.
As the faint sound of stiletto heels approached my awaiting ears, I knew it was time. I obscured myself from view as the legendary psycho passed closely by, stumbling across long reeds of grass as he went. Suddenly he spotted a young teen, stepping out of her car. Old by his standards, if the rumours I had heard were true, but the “Man of the Well” approached her. He leaned over slightly in an attempt to protect his face from vision as this girl climbed out of her car, seemingly unaware of anything sub-ordinary.
The searchlight of a police helicopter suddenly, yet briefly illuminated the car park. He remained unruffled by this passing scare however, it just sped him up in his cruel attempts of evil. Grabbing the girl by the collar, he ripped her away from her car, launching her above his shoulders. The victim yelped in fear, and drastically tried to struggle free, but to no avail. The tall and brawny figure that this twisted psychopath had in reserves was too much for the puny efforts of this frail chunk of meat, which he would soon devour.
He moved towards a well that inhabited the vast field that overlooked the car park and street. Drawing a knife, he promptly plunged it into his weeping victim’s heart. A last scream pierced the air, rippling shockwaves down my spine. As the definition of perfection fell to her death, the ruby red blood that seeped out of her chest permanently stained the surrounding concrete and brick-filled sides of the well.
The cerebral and unstable killer just tossed the body down the well, grinning with approval. He treated this pure and very beautiful specimen like a manikin, the existence of anybody but he did not matter whatsoever. A shooting star fired across the now jet-black sky, symbolising the deformity that tragically stole this young woman’s flawless life, and now leaving her as nothing more than a memory. As he began to move away he stopped. It was disturbing to see such a beautiful woman degradingly slumped across a knobbly old well, bleeding profusely. As he turned back to give a second glance, a cynical grin infected his otherwise expressionless face like a virus.
He thought he was undetectable. He thought he would expertly manoeuvre himself away from the scene of such sick, hideous acts successfully. He thought he’d leave no evidence, and suffer no vengeance.
“BANG!”
The shot from my gun perforated an otherwise crisp night’s sky. The psychotic slaughterer fell to his deserved death. I still remain a coward, playing police law by the book. I should have shot earlier. But no...I can't take a risk.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
EDIT 10.53, 8 May: Changed a few minor errors.
A floorboard creaked; I nervously rushed behind the cover of a nearby wooden box, stuttering as I went. The half moon shone brightly through the shattered window, casting the shadow of the box onto the dark and bare floor. I shivered nervously in the sharp eerie cold; hairs prickled the back of my neck. I knew that if I moved even a muscle I would give away the place where I was concealed. The wind battered the opposing side of the building with its relentless strength; it wanted in. The door suddenly shuddered open, just far enough so that I could see a passage of light through the hinge. The footsteps I had previously heard were now gone. It was around that time when the light that is left plays tricks on you, almost like it is taunting you.
Abruptly the entrance again jolted out of position, and this time a man emerged. I noticed how he cautiously trod across the aged floorboards, which sent shrills down my spine as they creaked. I was the only person in this derelict hut who knew that there were two of us here; the man did not seem to have a clue. I didn't know who this rather tall and well-built figure was or what he could do to me, but on first glance he looked like he could easily harm somebody. My fear was growing rapidly as the man started to walk towards the box and my hiding place. I almost panicked, and trembled out of position, but suddenly the man turned, and fled from the room, slamming the door shut on his way.
As the man turned the moonlight lit up his old craggy face, all of a sudden I realized that I recognised this man. Surely the legends, these old fairy tales about crazed lunatics could not be true. Surely this was not the man of the well, who supposedly crept out in the late hours to rape, slaughter and feast on the remaining corpse of any people that got in his path. I thought that sick mortal was just a scare tactic employed by local parents, in order to stop them breaking a curfew. Yet the more I started to think about it the more it became true. Why would parents conjure up such sick images for their kids to ponder over? Really…are these absurd rumours true?
I crept wearily towards the door leading to the wide exterior. The sky was scorched crimson as the obscurity of night overpowered the light of day. In the distance the picturesque profile of nearby towns and villages was traceable under the blanket of radiant silver stars. The recent rain broke into a light fall of snow, and as the crystallised snowflakes descended delicately from the sky, the few rays of remaining light shone through the bare branches of an old oak tree, before giving way to a vivid full moon.
As the faint sound of stiletto heels approached my awaiting ears, I knew it was time. I obscured myself from view as the legendary psycho passed closely by, stumbling across long reeds of grass as he went. Suddenly he spotted a young teen, stepping out of her car. Old by his standards, if the rumours I had heard were true, but the “Man of the Well” approached her. He leaned over slightly in an attempt to protect his face from vision as this girl climbed out of her car, seemingly unaware of anything sub-ordinary.
The searchlight of a police helicopter suddenly, yet briefly illuminated the car park. He remained unruffled by this passing scare however, it just sped him up in his cruel attempts of evil. Grabbing the girl by the collar, he ripped her away from her car, launching her above his shoulders. The victim yelped in fear, and drastically tried to struggle free, but to no avail. The tall and brawny figure that this twisted psychopath had in reserves was too much for the puny efforts of this frail chunk of meat, which he would soon devour.
He moved towards a well that inhabited the vast field that overlooked the car park and street. Drawing a knife, he promptly plunged it into his weeping victim’s heart. A last scream pierced the air, rippling shockwaves down my spine. As the definition of perfection fell to her death, the ruby red blood that seeped out of her chest permanently stained the surrounding concrete and brick-filled sides of the well.
The cerebral and unstable killer just tossed the body down the well, grinning with approval. He treated this pure and very beautiful specimen like a manikin, the existence of anybody but he did not matter whatsoever. A shooting star fired across the now jet-black sky, symbolising the deformity that tragically stole this young woman’s flawless life, and now leaving her as nothing more than a memory. As he began to move away he stopped. It was disturbing to see such a beautiful woman degradingly slumped across a knobbly old well, bleeding profusely. As he turned back to give a second glance, a cynical grin infected his otherwise expressionless face like a virus.
He thought he was undetectable. He thought he would expertly manoeuvre himself away from the scene of such sick, hideous acts successfully. He thought he’d leave no evidence, and suffer no vengeance.
“BANG!”
The shot from my gun perforated an otherwise crisp night’s sky. The psychotic slaughterer fell to his deserved death. I still remain a coward, playing police law by the book. I should have shot earlier. But no...I can't take a risk.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
EDIT 10.53, 8 May: Changed a few minor errors.
Nice one, lovely discriptions and a very enjoyable read. :-)
Very original, dark and well written tale of psychotic beauty. I liked it a lot.
Wooo! Just on time, although very rushed. I almost missed the cut because the filter wouldn't accept "ch!nk" so I had to quickly substitute that for "passage".
On the whole its not great, and a few parts don't fit together, but I mainly tried again to do something descriptive and eerie. Next time i've really got to be brave and try something different.
On the whole its not great, and a few parts don't fit together, but I mainly tried again to do something descriptive and eerie. Next time i've really got to be brave and try something different.
SSC3: Man Of The Well
A floorboard creaked; I nervously rushed behind the cover of a nearby wooden box, stuttering as I went. The half moon shone brightly through the shattered window, casting the shadow of the box onto the dark and bare floor. I shivered nervously in the sharp eerie cold; hairs prickled the back of my neck. I knew that if I moved even a muscle I would give away the place where I was concealed. The wind battered the opposing side of the building with its relentless strength; it wanted in. The door suddenly shuddered open, just far enough so that I could see a passage of light through the hinge. The footsteps I had previously heard were now gone. It was around that time when the light that is left plays tricks on you, almost like it is taunting you.
Abruptly the entrance again jolted out of position, and this time a man emerged. I noticed how he cautiously trod across the aged floorboards, which sent shrills down my spine as they creaked. I was the only person in this derelict hut who knew that there were two of us here; the man did not seem to have a clue. I didn't know who this rather tall and well-built figure was or what he could do to me, but on first glance he looked like he could easily harm somebody. My fear was growing rapidly as the man started to walk towards the box and my hiding place. I almost panicked, and trembled out of position, but suddenly the man turned, and fled from the room, slamming the door shut on his way.
As the man turned the moonlight lit up his old craggy face, all of a sudden I realized that I recognised this man. Surely the legends, these old fairy tales about crazed lunatics could not be true. Surely this was not the man of the well, who supposedly crept out in the late hours to rape, slaughter and feast on the remaining corpse of any people that got in his path. I thought that sick mortal was just a scare tactic employed by local parents, in order to stop them breaking a curfew. Yet the more I started to think about it the more it became true. Why would parents conjure up such sick images for their kids to ponder over? Really…are these absurd rumours true?
I crept wearily towards the door leading to the wide exterior. The sky was scorched crimson as the obscurity of night overpowered the light of day. In the distance the picturesque profile of nearby towns and villages was traceable under the blanket of radiant silver stars. The recent rain broke into a light fall of snow, and as the crystallised snowflakes descended delicately from the sky, the few rays of remaining light shone through the bare branches of an old oak tree, before giving way to a vivid full moon.
As the faint sound of stiletto heels approached my awaiting ears, I knew it was time. I obscured myself from view as the legendary psycho passed closely by, stumbling across long reeds of grass as he went. Suddenly he spotted a young teen, stepping out of her car. Old by his standards, if the rumours I had heard were true, but the “Man of the Well” approached her. He leaned over slightly in an attempt to protect his face from vision as this girl climbed out of her car, seemingly unaware of anything sub-ordinary.
The searchlight of a police helicopter suddenly, yet briefly illuminated the car park. He remained unruffled by this passing scare however, it just sped him up in his cruel attempts of evil. Grabbing the girl by the collar, he ripped her away from her car, launching her above his shoulders. The victim yelped in fear, and drastically tried to struggle free, but to no avail. The tall and brawny figure that this twisted psychopath had in reserves was too much for the puny efforts of this frail chunk of meat, which he would soon devour.
He moved towards a well that inhabited the vast field that overlooked the car park and street. Drawing a knife, he promptly plunged it into his weeping victim’s heart. A last scream pierced the air, rippling shockwaves down my spine. As the definition of perfection fell to her death, the ruby red blood that seeped out of her chest permanently stained the surrounding concrete and brick-filled sides of the well.
The cerebral and unstable killer just tossed the body down the well, grinning with approval. He treated this pure and very beautiful specimen like a manikin, the existence of anybody but he did not matter whatsoever. A shooting star fired across the now jet-black sky, symbolising the deformity that tragically stole this young woman’s flawless life, and now leaving her as nothing more than a memory. As he began to move away he stopped. It was disturbing to see such a beautiful woman degradingly slumped across a knobbly old well, bleeding profusely. As he turned back to give a second glance, a cynical grin infected his otherwise expressionless face like a virus.
He thought he was undetectable. He thought he would expertly manoeuvre himself away from the scene of such sick, hideous acts successfully. He thought he’d leave no evidence, and suffer no vengeance.
“BANG!”
The shot from my gun perforated an otherwise crisp night’s sky. The psychotic slaughterer fell to his deserved death. I still remain a coward, playing police law by the book. I should have shot earlier. But no...I can't take a risk.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
EDIT 10.53, 8 May: Changed a few minor errors.
A floorboard creaked; I nervously rushed behind the cover of a nearby wooden box, stuttering as I went. The half moon shone brightly through the shattered window, casting the shadow of the box onto the dark and bare floor. I shivered nervously in the sharp eerie cold; hairs prickled the back of my neck. I knew that if I moved even a muscle I would give away the place where I was concealed. The wind battered the opposing side of the building with its relentless strength; it wanted in. The door suddenly shuddered open, just far enough so that I could see a passage of light through the hinge. The footsteps I had previously heard were now gone. It was around that time when the light that is left plays tricks on you, almost like it is taunting you.
Abruptly the entrance again jolted out of position, and this time a man emerged. I noticed how he cautiously trod across the aged floorboards, which sent shrills down my spine as they creaked. I was the only person in this derelict hut who knew that there were two of us here; the man did not seem to have a clue. I didn't know who this rather tall and well-built figure was or what he could do to me, but on first glance he looked like he could easily harm somebody. My fear was growing rapidly as the man started to walk towards the box and my hiding place. I almost panicked, and trembled out of position, but suddenly the man turned, and fled from the room, slamming the door shut on his way.
As the man turned the moonlight lit up his old craggy face, all of a sudden I realized that I recognised this man. Surely the legends, these old fairy tales about crazed lunatics could not be true. Surely this was not the man of the well, who supposedly crept out in the late hours to rape, slaughter and feast on the remaining corpse of any people that got in his path. I thought that sick mortal was just a scare tactic employed by local parents, in order to stop them breaking a curfew. Yet the more I started to think about it the more it became true. Why would parents conjure up such sick images for their kids to ponder over? Really…are these absurd rumours true?
I crept wearily towards the door leading to the wide exterior. The sky was scorched crimson as the obscurity of night overpowered the light of day. In the distance the picturesque profile of nearby towns and villages was traceable under the blanket of radiant silver stars. The recent rain broke into a light fall of snow, and as the crystallised snowflakes descended delicately from the sky, the few rays of remaining light shone through the bare branches of an old oak tree, before giving way to a vivid full moon.
As the faint sound of stiletto heels approached my awaiting ears, I knew it was time. I obscured myself from view as the legendary psycho passed closely by, stumbling across long reeds of grass as he went. Suddenly he spotted a young teen, stepping out of her car. Old by his standards, if the rumours I had heard were true, but the “Man of the Well” approached her. He leaned over slightly in an attempt to protect his face from vision as this girl climbed out of her car, seemingly unaware of anything sub-ordinary.
The searchlight of a police helicopter suddenly, yet briefly illuminated the car park. He remained unruffled by this passing scare however, it just sped him up in his cruel attempts of evil. Grabbing the girl by the collar, he ripped her away from her car, launching her above his shoulders. The victim yelped in fear, and drastically tried to struggle free, but to no avail. The tall and brawny figure that this twisted psychopath had in reserves was too much for the puny efforts of this frail chunk of meat, which he would soon devour.
He moved towards a well that inhabited the vast field that overlooked the car park and street. Drawing a knife, he promptly plunged it into his weeping victim’s heart. A last scream pierced the air, rippling shockwaves down my spine. As the definition of perfection fell to her death, the ruby red blood that seeped out of her chest permanently stained the surrounding concrete and brick-filled sides of the well.
The cerebral and unstable killer just tossed the body down the well, grinning with approval. He treated this pure and very beautiful specimen like a manikin, the existence of anybody but he did not matter whatsoever. A shooting star fired across the now jet-black sky, symbolising the deformity that tragically stole this young woman’s flawless life, and now leaving her as nothing more than a memory. As he began to move away he stopped. It was disturbing to see such a beautiful woman degradingly slumped across a knobbly old well, bleeding profusely. As he turned back to give a second glance, a cynical grin infected his otherwise expressionless face like a virus.
He thought he was undetectable. He thought he would expertly manoeuvre himself away from the scene of such sick, hideous acts successfully. He thought he’d leave no evidence, and suffer no vengeance.
“BANG!”
The shot from my gun perforated an otherwise crisp night’s sky. The psychotic slaughterer fell to his deserved death. I still remain a coward, playing police law by the book. I should have shot earlier. But no...I can't take a risk.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
EDIT 10.53, 8 May: Changed a few minor errors.