The "Freeola Customer Forum" forum, which includes Retro Game Reviews, has been archived and is now read-only. You cannot post here or create a new thread or review on this forum.
It was Thursday night, the girls regular night out. Meg had had a lousy day at work and really hadn’t wanted to go. It had taken a lot of pleading by her best friend to get her moving but now she was glad she’d made an effort. He’d been there, as usual, propping up the bar but tonight he’d gone further than smile at her. Tonight he’d introduced himself and they had a date fixed for Saturday night.
Meg hugged her friends goodnight and left the nightclub early in excellent spirits. Gill offered to walk home with her but Meg was having none of that. She only lived a mile away from the club and she wanted nothing but her own company on the short walk home. A chance to clear her head and enjoy the solitude after the noise in the club.
The click-clack a Megs’ heeled shoes beat a fast tempo on the damp pavement but she didn’t hear them. In a world of her own she imagined what she would wear on Saturday to impress Phil. In her mind she strengthened the fragile relationship, already wondering where it may lead. A scuff of shoe behind her stopped her mid-thought.
Meg spun quickly on her heel to confront whoever she’d heard but there was no one behind her. She frowned, peering into the blackness, but could see nothing, hear nothing. Quickly she set off again, all thoughts of Saturday forgotten as she strained her hearing. Another misstep behind her caused her to stop under the streetlamp. She wasn’t imaging it. She knew she’d heard a noise; a step out of sync with her own heeled footsteps.
Meg stood under the streetlight for several minutes. Panic licked at her breast and her breathing quickened. Her throat seemed to close as images of rape and murder flashed through her mind. Stop it, she told herself, get a grip. The minutes seemed like an eternity, seconds stretching into hours. There was no one there; nobody else was on the street. Even the few cars that usually passed her were absent. Absolute silence and velvet blackness were her only companions.
Meg eyed the distance to the next pool of light and ran. The noise of her heels, and the pounding of blood in her ears, effectively drowning out any other sounds. Gaining the safety of the next pool of light she stopped once more and whirled around. Was that a lit cigarette she had spotted in the dark? Again she strained her hearing, her eyes and now she added the sense of smell. Could she smell a cigarette burning? Damn, damn, damn. Now Meg was close to tears. How could she have been so stupid to leave the club alone, just to be with her own thoughts.
She set off briskly once more, her fear wrapped around her like a cloak, and unexpectedly stopped between the streetlights. No sound broke the quietness of the night as she took off her shoes and on silent feet fled to the next pool of light. She’d heard nothing behind her and leaned thankfully on the lamppost. A short distance away a shard of light lanced from between partially closed curtains. Her home was in sight. The shard of light meant that her mother was up waiting for her. Waiting to see her daughter safely in and offer her some supper.
Meg smiled to herself and breathed out a sigh of relief. The panic slowly subsided and her heart rate slowed to normal. So what if she had heard footsteps, she was not the only person heading home at 1 o’clock in the morning. Idiot, she told herself, fancy letting your imagination run riot like that. Using the lamp as support she slipped her feet back into her shoes and headed for home. A smile appeared again on her face as Saturday night crept back into her thoughts.
Two hundred yards from her front gate Megs’ hair was roughly grabbed from behind. Before she could utter a sound a hand clamped her mouth closed. A miasma of stale smoke enveloped her and once again she heard the scuff of a shoe.
Meg hugged her friends goodnight and left the nightclub early in excellent spirits. Gill offered to walk home with her but Meg was having none of that. She only lived a mile away from the club and she wanted nothing but her own company on the short walk home. A chance to clear her head and enjoy the solitude after the noise in the club.
The click-clack a Megs’ heeled shoes beat a fast tempo on the damp pavement but she didn’t hear them. In a world of her own she imagined what she would wear on Saturday to impress Phil. In her mind she strengthened the fragile relationship, already wondering where it may lead. A scuff of shoe behind her stopped her mid-thought.
Meg spun quickly on her heel to confront whoever she’d heard but there was no one behind her. She frowned, peering into the blackness, but could see nothing, hear nothing. Quickly she set off again, all thoughts of Saturday forgotten as she strained her hearing. Another misstep behind her caused her to stop under the streetlamp. She wasn’t imaging it. She knew she’d heard a noise; a step out of sync with her own heeled footsteps.
Meg stood under the streetlight for several minutes. Panic licked at her breast and her breathing quickened. Her throat seemed to close as images of rape and murder flashed through her mind. Stop it, she told herself, get a grip. The minutes seemed like an eternity, seconds stretching into hours. There was no one there; nobody else was on the street. Even the few cars that usually passed her were absent. Absolute silence and velvet blackness were her only companions.
Meg eyed the distance to the next pool of light and ran. The noise of her heels, and the pounding of blood in her ears, effectively drowning out any other sounds. Gaining the safety of the next pool of light she stopped once more and whirled around. Was that a lit cigarette she had spotted in the dark? Again she strained her hearing, her eyes and now she added the sense of smell. Could she smell a cigarette burning? Damn, damn, damn. Now Meg was close to tears. How could she have been so stupid to leave the club alone, just to be with her own thoughts.
She set off briskly once more, her fear wrapped around her like a cloak, and unexpectedly stopped between the streetlights. No sound broke the quietness of the night as she took off her shoes and on silent feet fled to the next pool of light. She’d heard nothing behind her and leaned thankfully on the lamppost. A short distance away a shard of light lanced from between partially closed curtains. Her home was in sight. The shard of light meant that her mother was up waiting for her. Waiting to see her daughter safely in and offer her some supper.
Meg smiled to herself and breathed out a sigh of relief. The panic slowly subsided and her heart rate slowed to normal. So what if she had heard footsteps, she was not the only person heading home at 1 o’clock in the morning. Idiot, she told herself, fancy letting your imagination run riot like that. Using the lamp as support she slipped her feet back into her shoes and headed for home. A smile appeared again on her face as Saturday night crept back into her thoughts.
Two hundred yards from her front gate Megs’ hair was roughly grabbed from behind. Before she could utter a sound a hand clamped her mouth closed. A miasma of stale smoke enveloped her and once again she heard the scuff of a shoe.
Nicely built up atmosphere. The ending was a little obvious, but still very good.
Nice little susepense/relief/deliver strategy.
I liked it a lot, especially the "velvet blackness" :-)
I liked it a lot, especially the "velvet blackness" :-)
Thanks for the comments although there wasn't enough suspense in it for my liking. With regard to the end, it was the way I wanted it to end even if it was a little lame :)
Maybe NB is right and I should stick to stories that are slightly risque. Only problem with that is I will not be able to post them on here. I've got away with one which was near the knuckle for a family forum, I don't want to push my luck and they aren't really suitable for most people on here who read the stories.
Maybe NB is right and I should stick to stories that are slightly risque. Only problem with that is I will not be able to post them on here. I've got away with one which was near the knuckle for a family forum, I don't want to push my luck and they aren't really suitable for most people on here who read the stories.
Thumbs up, there's some nice tension and description in there.
I saw the ending coming, but still enjoyable nonetheless.
Excellent, loved the suspense and the unexpected ending, great short story :^D
It was Thursday night, the girls regular night out. Meg had had a lousy day at work and really hadn’t wanted to go. It had taken a lot of pleading by her best friend to get her moving but now she was glad she’d made an effort. He’d been there, as usual, propping up the bar but tonight he’d gone further than smile at her. Tonight he’d introduced himself and they had a date fixed for Saturday night.
Meg hugged her friends goodnight and left the nightclub early in excellent spirits. Gill offered to walk home with her but Meg was having none of that. She only lived a mile away from the club and she wanted nothing but her own company on the short walk home. A chance to clear her head and enjoy the solitude after the noise in the club.
The click-clack a Megs’ heeled shoes beat a fast tempo on the damp pavement but she didn’t hear them. In a world of her own she imagined what she would wear on Saturday to impress Phil. In her mind she strengthened the fragile relationship, already wondering where it may lead. A scuff of shoe behind her stopped her mid-thought.
Meg spun quickly on her heel to confront whoever she’d heard but there was no one behind her. She frowned, peering into the blackness, but could see nothing, hear nothing. Quickly she set off again, all thoughts of Saturday forgotten as she strained her hearing. Another misstep behind her caused her to stop under the streetlamp. She wasn’t imaging it. She knew she’d heard a noise; a step out of sync with her own heeled footsteps.
Meg stood under the streetlight for several minutes. Panic licked at her breast and her breathing quickened. Her throat seemed to close as images of rape and murder flashed through her mind. Stop it, she told herself, get a grip. The minutes seemed like an eternity, seconds stretching into hours. There was no one there; nobody else was on the street. Even the few cars that usually passed her were absent. Absolute silence and velvet blackness were her only companions.
Meg eyed the distance to the next pool of light and ran. The noise of her heels, and the pounding of blood in her ears, effectively drowning out any other sounds. Gaining the safety of the next pool of light she stopped once more and whirled around. Was that a lit cigarette she had spotted in the dark? Again she strained her hearing, her eyes and now she added the sense of smell. Could she smell a cigarette burning? Damn, damn, damn. Now Meg was close to tears. How could she have been so stupid to leave the club alone, just to be with her own thoughts.
She set off briskly once more, her fear wrapped around her like a cloak, and unexpectedly stopped between the streetlights. No sound broke the quietness of the night as she took off her shoes and on silent feet fled to the next pool of light. She’d heard nothing behind her and leaned thankfully on the lamppost. A short distance away a shard of light lanced from between partially closed curtains. Her home was in sight. The shard of light meant that her mother was up waiting for her. Waiting to see her daughter safely in and offer her some supper.
Meg smiled to herself and breathed out a sigh of relief. The panic slowly subsided and her heart rate slowed to normal. So what if she had heard footsteps, she was not the only person heading home at 1 o’clock in the morning. Idiot, she told herself, fancy letting your imagination run riot like that. Using the lamp as support she slipped her feet back into her shoes and headed for home. A smile appeared again on her face as Saturday night crept back into her thoughts.
Two hundred yards from her front gate Megs’ hair was roughly grabbed from behind. Before she could utter a sound a hand clamped her mouth closed. A miasma of stale smoke enveloped her and once again she heard the scuff of a shoe.
Meg hugged her friends goodnight and left the nightclub early in excellent spirits. Gill offered to walk home with her but Meg was having none of that. She only lived a mile away from the club and she wanted nothing but her own company on the short walk home. A chance to clear her head and enjoy the solitude after the noise in the club.
The click-clack a Megs’ heeled shoes beat a fast tempo on the damp pavement but she didn’t hear them. In a world of her own she imagined what she would wear on Saturday to impress Phil. In her mind she strengthened the fragile relationship, already wondering where it may lead. A scuff of shoe behind her stopped her mid-thought.
Meg spun quickly on her heel to confront whoever she’d heard but there was no one behind her. She frowned, peering into the blackness, but could see nothing, hear nothing. Quickly she set off again, all thoughts of Saturday forgotten as she strained her hearing. Another misstep behind her caused her to stop under the streetlamp. She wasn’t imaging it. She knew she’d heard a noise; a step out of sync with her own heeled footsteps.
Meg stood under the streetlight for several minutes. Panic licked at her breast and her breathing quickened. Her throat seemed to close as images of rape and murder flashed through her mind. Stop it, she told herself, get a grip. The minutes seemed like an eternity, seconds stretching into hours. There was no one there; nobody else was on the street. Even the few cars that usually passed her were absent. Absolute silence and velvet blackness were her only companions.
Meg eyed the distance to the next pool of light and ran. The noise of her heels, and the pounding of blood in her ears, effectively drowning out any other sounds. Gaining the safety of the next pool of light she stopped once more and whirled around. Was that a lit cigarette she had spotted in the dark? Again she strained her hearing, her eyes and now she added the sense of smell. Could she smell a cigarette burning? Damn, damn, damn. Now Meg was close to tears. How could she have been so stupid to leave the club alone, just to be with her own thoughts.
She set off briskly once more, her fear wrapped around her like a cloak, and unexpectedly stopped between the streetlights. No sound broke the quietness of the night as she took off her shoes and on silent feet fled to the next pool of light. She’d heard nothing behind her and leaned thankfully on the lamppost. A short distance away a shard of light lanced from between partially closed curtains. Her home was in sight. The shard of light meant that her mother was up waiting for her. Waiting to see her daughter safely in and offer her some supper.
Meg smiled to herself and breathed out a sigh of relief. The panic slowly subsided and her heart rate slowed to normal. So what if she had heard footsteps, she was not the only person heading home at 1 o’clock in the morning. Idiot, she told herself, fancy letting your imagination run riot like that. Using the lamp as support she slipped her feet back into her shoes and headed for home. A smile appeared again on her face as Saturday night crept back into her thoughts.
Two hundred yards from her front gate Megs’ hair was roughly grabbed from behind. Before she could utter a sound a hand clamped her mouth closed. A miasma of stale smoke enveloped her and once again she heard the scuff of a shoe.