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Short story, nothing too spectacular. Enjoy it, and comments please.
Mark cursed quietly to himself as he tripped over something on the road. It was a dark summers night, with clouds everywhere so no moonlight could penetrate the sky, and no stars could be seen. Mark was walking home from the pub, walking because he couldn’t drive and therefore didn’t have a car. He didn’t mind not having one, it was only a few miles to the village, and when he needed to go to work he could walk or take his bike in, then catch a bus. He hadn’t brought his bike with him tonight, as he new he wouldn’t be in a fit state to cycle home.
Passing a bush on the side of the country road, Mark heard a rustle and saw the bush move. He stopped, and took a closer look. Probably a rabbit or something, he thought to himself, and continued on. About fifty yards down the road, he heard a noise behind him. Noise however, could not accurately describe this sound at all. It was a shrill shriek, filled with menace, glee, pain, and evil. Mark didn’t know how he knew all this, he just did. It was a gut feeling, rooted to his stomach. Turning slowly around, he hissed in a sharp intake of breath. Standing where the bush had rustled was a huge bulk of a creature. Mark could not see any identifying features apart from its two eyes, which were both a fierce glowing orange, with small, black irises in the centre. The eyes were not like human eyes however, they were slitted at the corners, and Mark knew they were the very epitome of evil. Choking on fear, Mark turned and sprinted, as fast as he could go, towards his house. Behind him, he heard a snort, and then carefully measured breaths as the thing behind gave chase. Mark ran like the wind, faster than he had ever ran before, with a speed born of fear. Yet his pursuer began to gain, and he could hear the steadied breathing getting closer. Mark was at the end of his drive way however, and he was seconds away from his front door when the thing behind him swiped at him with its arm. Mark could feel an agonizing pain as claws dug into is back, but the attack was not serious, and the arm continued past him with its momentum. The front door loomed up ahead, paces away, but at the last moment Mark tripped on something - he knew not what - and fell heavily to the ground. Thinking that he was done for Mark lay still, but his impending death didn’t come. Gingerly looking around, he was startled to see there was nothing there. Still startled however, he drew himself up, then made for the door.
An hour later Mark crawled into his bed. He had dressed the wound on his back, and although it was sore, he could still move unhampered by too much pain. Suddenly however, he looked up at his huge bedroom window, directly in front of him, to be confronted by two glowing eyes. Mark yelled a scream of panic, and then watched helplessly as the devil - he had decided that this is what it was - climbed through the window. As soon as it entered Mark smelt the stench of something rotting, not unlike a dead animal. Terrified out of his wits, Mark made for the door, but the devil swung at him, and knocked him flying across the room. He hit the wall and collapsed in a pile. He could feel the blood seeping out of his skull and sharp pain in his back. Slowly walking towards him, the devil stopped and bared its teeth - a whole mouthful of them, needle sharp and stained with red. Mark knew that he was going to be killed, or perhaps eaten alive. Seizing his last vestiges of strength, he got up and charged towards the evil mass, colliding with it and pushing it, as well as him, across the room towards the window. Under Mark’s hands where he held the devil, he couldn’t feel solid flesh or muscle, but a soft yet slimy feel, like there was water under this things skin and rough coarse fur. He wanted to let go, but he knew he couldn’t. Hitting the bottom of the window ledge, the momentum of the charge sent both the devil and Mark out the two - storey window, landing on the gravel below. The Thing under Mark absorbed all the fall and a loud snap could be heard, and it emitted a long gasp as its life drained from it. Then, slowly, it began to subside in size, shrinking away to nothing so that in minutes only Mark lay senseless by himself in the yard on that Summers night.
Mark cursed quietly to himself as he tripped over something on the road. It was a dark summers night, with clouds everywhere so no moonlight could penetrate the sky, and no stars could be seen. Mark was walking home from the pub, walking because he couldn’t drive and therefore didn’t have a car. He didn’t mind not having one, it was only a few miles to the village, and when he needed to go to work he could walk or take his bike in, then catch a bus. He hadn’t brought his bike with him tonight, as he new he wouldn’t be in a fit state to cycle home.
Passing a bush on the side of the country road, Mark heard a rustle and saw the bush move. He stopped, and took a closer look. Probably a rabbit or something, he thought to himself, and continued on. About fifty yards down the road, he heard a noise behind him. Noise however, could not accurately describe this sound at all. It was a shrill shriek, filled with menace, glee, pain, and evil. Mark didn’t know how he knew all this, he just did. It was a gut feeling, rooted to his stomach. Turning slowly around, he hissed in a sharp intake of breath. Standing where the bush had rustled was a huge bulk of a creature. Mark could not see any identifying features apart from its two eyes, which were both a fierce glowing orange, with small, black irises in the centre. The eyes were not like human eyes however, they were slitted at the corners, and Mark knew they were the very epitome of evil. Choking on fear, Mark turned and sprinted, as fast as he could go, towards his house. Behind him, he heard a snort, and then carefully measured breaths as the thing behind gave chase. Mark ran like the wind, faster than he had ever ran before, with a speed born of fear. Yet his pursuer began to gain, and he could hear the steadied breathing getting closer. Mark was at the end of his drive way however, and he was seconds away from his front door when the thing behind him swiped at him with its arm. Mark could feel an agonizing pain as claws dug into is back, but the attack was not serious, and the arm continued past him with its momentum. The front door loomed up ahead, paces away, but at the last moment Mark tripped on something - he knew not what - and fell heavily to the ground. Thinking that he was done for Mark lay still, but his impending death didn’t come. Gingerly looking around, he was startled to see there was nothing there. Still startled however, he drew himself up, then made for the door.
An hour later Mark crawled into his bed. He had dressed the wound on his back, and although it was sore, he could still move unhampered by too much pain. Suddenly however, he looked up at his huge bedroom window, directly in front of him, to be confronted by two glowing eyes. Mark yelled a scream of panic, and then watched helplessly as the devil - he had decided that this is what it was - climbed through the window. As soon as it entered Mark smelt the stench of something rotting, not unlike a dead animal. Terrified out of his wits, Mark made for the door, but the devil swung at him, and knocked him flying across the room. He hit the wall and collapsed in a pile. He could feel the blood seeping out of his skull and sharp pain in his back. Slowly walking towards him, the devil stopped and bared its teeth - a whole mouthful of them, needle sharp and stained with red. Mark knew that he was going to be killed, or perhaps eaten alive. Seizing his last vestiges of strength, he got up and charged towards the evil mass, colliding with it and pushing it, as well as him, across the room towards the window. Under Mark’s hands where he held the devil, he couldn’t feel solid flesh or muscle, but a soft yet slimy feel, like there was water under this things skin and rough coarse fur. He wanted to let go, but he knew he couldn’t. Hitting the bottom of the window ledge, the momentum of the charge sent both the devil and Mark out the two - storey window, landing on the gravel below. The Thing under Mark absorbed all the fall and a loud snap could be heard, and it emitted a long gasp as its life drained from it. Then, slowly, it began to subside in size, shrinking away to nothing so that in minutes only Mark lay senseless by himself in the yard on that Summers night.
It is good, like most things you write, but you could have researched it a bit. It seemed like you were in a bit of a rush to get to the ending. A few points, if you were bleeding from your skull firstly it is impossible because you wouldny bleed from inside your skull you would leak brain matter, and secondly if you were in such a state do you think you would be able to get up and charge? You would be rendered a vegetable and your nervous sytem would be in a state of disarray! If you use the story anywhere else you could change it to "bleeding from his forehead" or something.
Sorry to make such a fuss but I appreciate contructive criticism as it makes future stories much better.
Sorry to make such a fuss but I appreciate contructive criticism as it makes future stories much better.
I agree with the comments made below, but tales about menacing, untamed beasts always work for me.
Nice story, I liked it :-)
Only thing that didn't reallt fit was "walking because he couldn’t drive and therefore didn’t have a car".
Also, I didn't like the fact that an hour passed without any detail.
Only thing that didn't reallt fit was "walking because he couldn’t drive and therefore didn’t have a car".
Also, I didn't like the fact that an hour passed without any detail.
Meka Dragon wrote:
> It has potential.
>
> Don't take any of this the wrong way, it's meant only as constructive
> criticism, I'm trying to be helpful!
>
> There's too much pointless information in the first paragraph, about
> his lack of car and reason for no cycle, we don't need to know this,
> only that he's walking.
>
> Also, at one point after he gets attacked you write "the attack
> wasn't serious", when I think it should be the wound that wasn't
> serious, or it suggests that the devil didn't want to hurt him.
>
> Some decent descriptive parts though.
Thanks for that. It's alot better to have a reply like yours than to have someone saying "Its good" even though its not and they couldn't be bothered to say other wise. I'll take your advice, and I myself wasn't sure about the attack bit when he gets clawed either, so I'll straighten that out. Cheers for reading it and commenting though.
> It has potential.
>
> Don't take any of this the wrong way, it's meant only as constructive
> criticism, I'm trying to be helpful!
>
> There's too much pointless information in the first paragraph, about
> his lack of car and reason for no cycle, we don't need to know this,
> only that he's walking.
>
> Also, at one point after he gets attacked you write "the attack
> wasn't serious", when I think it should be the wound that wasn't
> serious, or it suggests that the devil didn't want to hurt him.
>
> Some decent descriptive parts though.
Thanks for that. It's alot better to have a reply like yours than to have someone saying "Its good" even though its not and they couldn't be bothered to say other wise. I'll take your advice, and I myself wasn't sure about the attack bit when he gets clawed either, so I'll straighten that out. Cheers for reading it and commenting though.
It has potential.
Don't take any of this the wrong way, it's meant only as constructive criticism, I'm trying to be helpful!
There's too much pointless information in the first paragraph, about his lack of car and reason for no cycle, we don't need to know this, only that he's walking.
Also, at one point after he gets attacked you write "the attack wasn't serious", when I think it should be the wound that wasn't serious, or it suggests that the devil didn't want to hurt him.
Some decent descriptive parts though.
Don't take any of this the wrong way, it's meant only as constructive criticism, I'm trying to be helpful!
There's too much pointless information in the first paragraph, about his lack of car and reason for no cycle, we don't need to know this, only that he's walking.
Also, at one point after he gets attacked you write "the attack wasn't serious", when I think it should be the wound that wasn't serious, or it suggests that the devil didn't want to hurt him.
Some decent descriptive parts though.
Short story, nothing too spectacular. Enjoy it, and comments please.
Mark cursed quietly to himself as he tripped over something on the road. It was a dark summers night, with clouds everywhere so no moonlight could penetrate the sky, and no stars could be seen. Mark was walking home from the pub, walking because he couldn’t drive and therefore didn’t have a car. He didn’t mind not having one, it was only a few miles to the village, and when he needed to go to work he could walk or take his bike in, then catch a bus. He hadn’t brought his bike with him tonight, as he new he wouldn’t be in a fit state to cycle home.
Passing a bush on the side of the country road, Mark heard a rustle and saw the bush move. He stopped, and took a closer look. Probably a rabbit or something, he thought to himself, and continued on. About fifty yards down the road, he heard a noise behind him. Noise however, could not accurately describe this sound at all. It was a shrill shriek, filled with menace, glee, pain, and evil. Mark didn’t know how he knew all this, he just did. It was a gut feeling, rooted to his stomach. Turning slowly around, he hissed in a sharp intake of breath. Standing where the bush had rustled was a huge bulk of a creature. Mark could not see any identifying features apart from its two eyes, which were both a fierce glowing orange, with small, black irises in the centre. The eyes were not like human eyes however, they were slitted at the corners, and Mark knew they were the very epitome of evil. Choking on fear, Mark turned and sprinted, as fast as he could go, towards his house. Behind him, he heard a snort, and then carefully measured breaths as the thing behind gave chase. Mark ran like the wind, faster than he had ever ran before, with a speed born of fear. Yet his pursuer began to gain, and he could hear the steadied breathing getting closer. Mark was at the end of his drive way however, and he was seconds away from his front door when the thing behind him swiped at him with its arm. Mark could feel an agonizing pain as claws dug into is back, but the attack was not serious, and the arm continued past him with its momentum. The front door loomed up ahead, paces away, but at the last moment Mark tripped on something - he knew not what - and fell heavily to the ground. Thinking that he was done for Mark lay still, but his impending death didn’t come. Gingerly looking around, he was startled to see there was nothing there. Still startled however, he drew himself up, then made for the door.
An hour later Mark crawled into his bed. He had dressed the wound on his back, and although it was sore, he could still move unhampered by too much pain. Suddenly however, he looked up at his huge bedroom window, directly in front of him, to be confronted by two glowing eyes. Mark yelled a scream of panic, and then watched helplessly as the devil - he had decided that this is what it was - climbed through the window. As soon as it entered Mark smelt the stench of something rotting, not unlike a dead animal. Terrified out of his wits, Mark made for the door, but the devil swung at him, and knocked him flying across the room. He hit the wall and collapsed in a pile. He could feel the blood seeping out of his skull and sharp pain in his back. Slowly walking towards him, the devil stopped and bared its teeth - a whole mouthful of them, needle sharp and stained with red. Mark knew that he was going to be killed, or perhaps eaten alive. Seizing his last vestiges of strength, he got up and charged towards the evil mass, colliding with it and pushing it, as well as him, across the room towards the window. Under Mark’s hands where he held the devil, he couldn’t feel solid flesh or muscle, but a soft yet slimy feel, like there was water under this things skin and rough coarse fur. He wanted to let go, but he knew he couldn’t. Hitting the bottom of the window ledge, the momentum of the charge sent both the devil and Mark out the two - storey window, landing on the gravel below. The Thing under Mark absorbed all the fall and a loud snap could be heard, and it emitted a long gasp as its life drained from it. Then, slowly, it began to subside in size, shrinking away to nothing so that in minutes only Mark lay senseless by himself in the yard on that Summers night.
Mark cursed quietly to himself as he tripped over something on the road. It was a dark summers night, with clouds everywhere so no moonlight could penetrate the sky, and no stars could be seen. Mark was walking home from the pub, walking because he couldn’t drive and therefore didn’t have a car. He didn’t mind not having one, it was only a few miles to the village, and when he needed to go to work he could walk or take his bike in, then catch a bus. He hadn’t brought his bike with him tonight, as he new he wouldn’t be in a fit state to cycle home.
Passing a bush on the side of the country road, Mark heard a rustle and saw the bush move. He stopped, and took a closer look. Probably a rabbit or something, he thought to himself, and continued on. About fifty yards down the road, he heard a noise behind him. Noise however, could not accurately describe this sound at all. It was a shrill shriek, filled with menace, glee, pain, and evil. Mark didn’t know how he knew all this, he just did. It was a gut feeling, rooted to his stomach. Turning slowly around, he hissed in a sharp intake of breath. Standing where the bush had rustled was a huge bulk of a creature. Mark could not see any identifying features apart from its two eyes, which were both a fierce glowing orange, with small, black irises in the centre. The eyes were not like human eyes however, they were slitted at the corners, and Mark knew they were the very epitome of evil. Choking on fear, Mark turned and sprinted, as fast as he could go, towards his house. Behind him, he heard a snort, and then carefully measured breaths as the thing behind gave chase. Mark ran like the wind, faster than he had ever ran before, with a speed born of fear. Yet his pursuer began to gain, and he could hear the steadied breathing getting closer. Mark was at the end of his drive way however, and he was seconds away from his front door when the thing behind him swiped at him with its arm. Mark could feel an agonizing pain as claws dug into is back, but the attack was not serious, and the arm continued past him with its momentum. The front door loomed up ahead, paces away, but at the last moment Mark tripped on something - he knew not what - and fell heavily to the ground. Thinking that he was done for Mark lay still, but his impending death didn’t come. Gingerly looking around, he was startled to see there was nothing there. Still startled however, he drew himself up, then made for the door.
An hour later Mark crawled into his bed. He had dressed the wound on his back, and although it was sore, he could still move unhampered by too much pain. Suddenly however, he looked up at his huge bedroom window, directly in front of him, to be confronted by two glowing eyes. Mark yelled a scream of panic, and then watched helplessly as the devil - he had decided that this is what it was - climbed through the window. As soon as it entered Mark smelt the stench of something rotting, not unlike a dead animal. Terrified out of his wits, Mark made for the door, but the devil swung at him, and knocked him flying across the room. He hit the wall and collapsed in a pile. He could feel the blood seeping out of his skull and sharp pain in his back. Slowly walking towards him, the devil stopped and bared its teeth - a whole mouthful of them, needle sharp and stained with red. Mark knew that he was going to be killed, or perhaps eaten alive. Seizing his last vestiges of strength, he got up and charged towards the evil mass, colliding with it and pushing it, as well as him, across the room towards the window. Under Mark’s hands where he held the devil, he couldn’t feel solid flesh or muscle, but a soft yet slimy feel, like there was water under this things skin and rough coarse fur. He wanted to let go, but he knew he couldn’t. Hitting the bottom of the window ledge, the momentum of the charge sent both the devil and Mark out the two - storey window, landing on the gravel below. The Thing under Mark absorbed all the fall and a loud snap could be heard, and it emitted a long gasp as its life drained from it. Then, slowly, it began to subside in size, shrinking away to nothing so that in minutes only Mark lay senseless by himself in the yard on that Summers night.