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Tiny Little Hands
It was like any other night for Shelly Mason as she drove home from the office. Her journey took her through Black Cross Woods, the area where the infamous Black Cross murders took place. Legend had it that a man named Travis Burkton lured children into the woods and murdered them brutally. However the police investigation was discontinued some twenty years ago and nobody was ever arrested.
Shelly saw a road sign ahead, illuminated by the glare of her cars headlights, it read, “You are now entering Black Cross – Please drive safely.” Shelly hated these roads and always feared crashing on them, due to the fact there was nothingness for a good two miles in any direction. The roads were thin and wound through the dark, thick woodland of Black Cross. The road was lined with tall fir trees on either side, which meant none of the light from the moon reached the dark, dark road.
Despite the fact Shelly was logical and strong-minded, she always felt a little unnerved when driving on this road. Perhaps it was the legend that scared her even thought she told herself it couldn’t be true. She reached for a tape to listen to as she drove, that always relaxed her. The tape slipped out of her fingers and Shelly bent down to pick it up, keeping one hand on the wheel. When her head emerged she saw someone on the road in front of her car. Shelly instinctively swerved to avoid hitting the figure on the road and her car jack-knifed across the road and smashed into a tree. Smoke rose from the buckled bonnet of the car and the passenger window bore a large crack.
Shelly instantly thought about the person in the road and knew she should check if they were all right. She unbuckled her seatbelt and turned to get out of the car but screamed at what she saw. In the side window she saw the face of a young girl who looked no older that six, staring in at her. The girl eyes were wide and frightened and where her jawbone should be was a bloody void. Shelly panicked and backed away onto the passenger seat. The girl raised her bloodstained hands to the window of the car and rubbed them against the glass leaving tiny bloody fingerprints on the window.
The thick stench of blood filled the cold car and Shelly knew she had to escape from this unnatural incident. Things she had heard about the Black Cross murders filled her head. People disappeared in these woods all the time, so people said, but Shelly hadn’t believed them until now. She turned the key in the ignition to try and start the car again. The engine spluttered and groaned but refused to start; she was trapped.
Shelly looked at the road again, looking for the lights of the nearest down. They were far in the distance, at least a mile to walk to. As her eyes darted around she saw figures emerging from the tree line on the other side of the road. They were walking slowly and as they grew closer Shelly realised they were all children. Each child had the same sickening features; a bloody hole instead of a jawbone, wide frightened eyes and bloodstained little hands.
Shelly was petrified, she put her head down and prayed. God answered her as she noticed her cell phone was on the floor of the car. She quickly grabbed it and keyed in ‘911’ and cried to the operator to send a police car to Black Cross woods. The operator said that the car was on its way and Shelly felt a degree of safety. She kept her head in her hands and her eyes screwed up tightly until a knock on her window caused her to jump back. Her comfort came when she heard, “Its alright ma’am, I’m a police officer.” Shelly slowly opened her car door and stepped out into the cold, pitch-black night. “What seems to be the problem?” questioned the officer. “T-They was here, all around the car.” Shelly replied shakily. “Who was here, miss?” Asked the officer; “There’s nobody on these roads except you.” Shelly looked confused but was relieved they had left her alone. She was even more relieved when the police officer offered her a lift back to town.
In the drive in the police car nothing unusual happened. Shelly told the officer what had happened to her that night but he seemed unwilling to believe her. When the car pulled up outside the station in the town, the officer asked Shelly to come inside. Shelly obliged of course and was horrified to find that the officer wanted her to spend the night in a cell. “I’m not crazy!” she yelled, “I am not making all this up! Why won’t you believe me?” The officer stared at her for a moment then lead her to an empty cell. The cell was nothing more than a small room with a windowless steel door. “Try and have some sleep miss, it is late. We can talk things over in the morning.”
Shelly sat in the corner of her dimly lit cell and tried to forget the events of this night, but knew they would haunt her for a lifetime. As the thoughts ran through Shelly’s mind, the bulb in the room flickered and went out and in the darkness she felt tiny little hands grasping at her throat.
It was like any other night for Shelly Mason as she drove home from the office. Her journey took her through Black Cross Woods, the area where the infamous Black Cross murders took place. Legend had it that a man named Travis Burkton lured children into the woods and murdered them brutally. However the police investigation was discontinued some twenty years ago and nobody was ever arrested.
Shelly saw a road sign ahead, illuminated by the glare of her cars headlights, it read, “You are now entering Black Cross – Please drive safely.” Shelly hated these roads and always feared crashing on them, due to the fact there was nothingness for a good two miles in any direction. The roads were thin and wound through the dark, thick woodland of Black Cross. The road was lined with tall fir trees on either side, which meant none of the light from the moon reached the dark, dark road.
Despite the fact Shelly was logical and strong-minded, she always felt a little unnerved when driving on this road. Perhaps it was the legend that scared her even thought she told herself it couldn’t be true. She reached for a tape to listen to as she drove, that always relaxed her. The tape slipped out of her fingers and Shelly bent down to pick it up, keeping one hand on the wheel. When her head emerged she saw someone on the road in front of her car. Shelly instinctively swerved to avoid hitting the figure on the road and her car jack-knifed across the road and smashed into a tree. Smoke rose from the buckled bonnet of the car and the passenger window bore a large crack.
Shelly instantly thought about the person in the road and knew she should check if they were all right. She unbuckled her seatbelt and turned to get out of the car but screamed at what she saw. In the side window she saw the face of a young girl who looked no older that six, staring in at her. The girl eyes were wide and frightened and where her jawbone should be was a bloody void. Shelly panicked and backed away onto the passenger seat. The girl raised her bloodstained hands to the window of the car and rubbed them against the glass leaving tiny bloody fingerprints on the window.
The thick stench of blood filled the cold car and Shelly knew she had to escape from this unnatural incident. Things she had heard about the Black Cross murders filled her head. People disappeared in these woods all the time, so people said, but Shelly hadn’t believed them until now. She turned the key in the ignition to try and start the car again. The engine spluttered and groaned but refused to start; she was trapped.
Shelly looked at the road again, looking for the lights of the nearest down. They were far in the distance, at least a mile to walk to. As her eyes darted around she saw figures emerging from the tree line on the other side of the road. They were walking slowly and as they grew closer Shelly realised they were all children. Each child had the same sickening features; a bloody hole instead of a jawbone, wide frightened eyes and bloodstained little hands.
Shelly was petrified, she put her head down and prayed. God answered her as she noticed her cell phone was on the floor of the car. She quickly grabbed it and keyed in ‘911’ and cried to the operator to send a police car to Black Cross woods. The operator said that the car was on its way and Shelly felt a degree of safety. She kept her head in her hands and her eyes screwed up tightly until a knock on her window caused her to jump back. Her comfort came when she heard, “Its alright ma’am, I’m a police officer.” Shelly slowly opened her car door and stepped out into the cold, pitch-black night. “What seems to be the problem?” questioned the officer. “T-They was here, all around the car.” Shelly replied shakily. “Who was here, miss?” Asked the officer; “There’s nobody on these roads except you.” Shelly looked confused but was relieved they had left her alone. She was even more relieved when the police officer offered her a lift back to town.
In the drive in the police car nothing unusual happened. Shelly told the officer what had happened to her that night but he seemed unwilling to believe her. When the car pulled up outside the station in the town, the officer asked Shelly to come inside. Shelly obliged of course and was horrified to find that the officer wanted her to spend the night in a cell. “I’m not crazy!” she yelled, “I am not making all this up! Why won’t you believe me?” The officer stared at her for a moment then lead her to an empty cell. The cell was nothing more than a small room with a windowless steel door. “Try and have some sleep miss, it is late. We can talk things over in the morning.”
Shelly sat in the corner of her dimly lit cell and tried to forget the events of this night, but knew they would haunt her for a lifetime. As the thoughts ran through Shelly’s mind, the bulb in the room flickered and went out and in the darkness she felt tiny little hands grasping at her throat.
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I could have expanded on it but I saw no need to. I think (not sure if this is the case) that you piece together the story in your own mind and that is more scary and effective than been taken by the hand and told EVERYTHING.
I always like my stories to have a reason behind them - otherwise I can't write them.
Maybe it's just me?
Maybe it's just me?
Horror stories have legends, so it's okay.
it depends, usually when I write stories I have to then trim them or expand them with a word limit in mind. So in some cases it would be fine, if the word count had to be low, but if you had the capacity, it could well be expanded upon.
it depends, usually when I write stories I have to then trim them or expand them with a word limit in mind. So in some cases it would be fine, if the word count had to be low, but if you had the capacity, it could well be expanded upon.
Thanks Meka for the advice, :-D
Do you think the 'legend of black cross' was too tacky and rushed or did it go alright in the short story?
Mostly good.
There certainly doesn't have to be reason in stories, a writer greater than I (significantly so) once wrote:
"Why do bad things happen to good people? Just because."
I like that.
The story could do with a little pruning, for instance, the line that goes along the lines of ( :o) )
Nothing unusual happened in the police car
Isn't necessary, just switch to the conversation in the cell.
There certainly doesn't have to be reason in stories, a writer greater than I (significantly so) once wrote:
"Why do bad things happen to good people? Just because."
I like that.
The story could do with a little pruning, for instance, the line that goes along the lines of ( :o) )
Nothing unusual happened in the police car
Isn't necessary, just switch to the conversation in the cell.
Hey, I don't have an alt gr, grrrr!
Thánks.
Still, as azul can attest to I figured it out in MSN. :-D
Still, as azul can attest to I figured it out in MSN. :-D
Kyz22 wrote:
> To get accents press [ctrl] + [alt] and a vowel. Tadaa!
Or just press alt gr for thé sámé éfféct.
> To get accents press [ctrl] + [alt] and a vowel. Tadaa!
Or just press alt gr for thé sámé éfféct.
é, heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeyyy...
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