Silent Rage by Nomar Knight

Silent Rage

By Nomar Knight

A quiet storm raged inside me. Students laughed at my expense. I wanted to get up off my knees and punch Carlos in his face. Instead, I begged him to leave me alone. 

“Kiss my boot!”

He had six inches and fifty pounds on me and from that angle he seemed like an ogre.

“It was an accident.”

A red circle formed above his right eye. Blood-filled cheeks confirmed that I was seconds away from getting pummeled. 

He tossed the dodge ball in the air and caught it without taking his vicious glare off me. 

“You threw this ball at my face on purpose.”

I raised my hands, begging for mercy. 

He growled, “I should make you eat this.”

I laughed. As soon as his expression changed to utter shock, I grabbed my stomach and almost keeled over. I couldn't stop laughing. 

“Jerome, I fail to see what’s so funny.”

Students circled around us. I heard one of them wonder aloud if Carlos was going to let me get away with making him look like a fool.

Carlos slammed the ball on my head. “That’s it! You’re dead!”

He pounced on me, rolling me on my backside. He grabbed my shirt, formed a fat fist and threw a punch at my face. I moved my head away and was relieved when he missed. The floor wasn't kind to Carlos. The sound of his knuckles striking concrete, then instant bone crunching was quickly followed with loud howling.

“That sounded painful.” I gathered enough courage to push him off me. 

The students chanted, “Kill him! Kill him!”

Tears filled the bully’s cheeks. Meanwhile, I got back on my knees, cackling with delight. 

Carlos tried to hit me with his other hand and nipped my nose. He screamed, “Somebody hold him for me!”

One of his cronies grabbed the back of my shoulders. I spun and squeezed his testicles. With the second bully’s howling another fit of laughter consumed me. The crowd grew quiet. 

Somehow, my emotions were scrambled. On instinct, I took off my belt and rapped it around Carlos’ neck. Using my weight, I crouched over him, laughing as his face turned blue. 

A student yelled, “Someone get Jerome off him.” 

Another added, “The crazy guy is going to kill him.”

Just as the big guy’s body stopped thrashing, my head got hit with something and I no longer was in the schoolyard. 

When I regained consciousness, a paramedic was applying a cold compress on my head. 

“What happened?”

The school’s principal, Mr. Gordon, said, “You hit Carlos with a dodge ball in his eye and he beat the daylights out of you.”

“Did I kill him?”

“Hardly, the students said Carlos beat you good while you kissed his boot.”

I checked my pants and saw my belt was still strapped in place. 

“Jerome, I called your mother. I’m suspending you for three days. Now stay out of trouble.”

I thought about exacting my vengeance upon my return. I pictured slicing Carlos’ throat with a knife and laughed and laughed.

© Copyright Nomar Knight 2015. All rights reserved.

A Knight Chills Flash Fiction Presentation.

Dark Messenger

Friday Flash Fiction

Dark Messenger

By Nomar Knight

He vanished, leaving me standing with my mouth open.  I scanned the surrounding woods with my only aid being a full moon and a sprinkle of sparkling stars.  Gripping the porch banister, I recalled the oddity that struck my gut when I first laid eyes on the man.  He had to be over six feet tall.  A black overcoat and dark fedora made him appear real to me.  But how did he disappear?

I spotted movement out of the corner of my eye.  On such a breezeless night, a pair of bushes swayed as if something had pushed through them.  Every fiber of my being screamed for me to forget what I saw and go back into the cottage.  The allure of safety was disrupted by more movement.

Once again the man reappeared, this time to my left.  He tilted his black fedora yet I couldn’t spot his eyes.

“Trickery of light,” I mumbled.

He had gaunt cheeks and a sturdy chin.  It seemed his gray complexion fused to his countenance.  It was almost as if he wore a surreal mask.

“What do you want?”

I could have sworn I spoke yet my voice didn’t carry through the night air.  The stranger spun and vanished for a second time.

Logic abandoned me, though I wondered if he was a magician.  Something about the man sent a burning sensation spiraling through my gut.  As if my soul had access to ancient knowledge that I couldn’t attain in this lifetime.  Somehow, the man’s identity remained hidden within the confines of memory.  However, I sensed those memories didn’t belong to me.

“Atticus!  You shouldn’t stay out there too long, honey.  The insects will eat you alive.”

“Yes mother!”

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes.  Although my mother spent most of her hours catering to her new boyfriend, she still found time to baby me.

I whispered, “I’m eighteen, not eight.”

I spun, upon hearing movement by the bushes.  The man in black stood facing me with his head lowered, the hat still shielding his face.  I decided to speak to him with my thoughts.

“Where do I know you from?”

He lifted his head.  Like a sculpture coming to life, his facial features became more detailed.  Thin lips curled into a snarl.  A chiseled nose filled his face.  And the blank eyes formed into what appeared to be cat’s eyes.  Shades of gray surrounded his shiny gold pupils.

Without moving his lips he said, “I’m your reminder.”

Speaking aloud, I asked, “Reminder of what?”

Once again my words didn’t carry into the physical realm, but remained trapped within the threshold of my mind.  It was as if I could not break through an unseen barrier.  Before I could ask for more clarification, the man faded into the night air.

“You’re not gone.  It’s a trick!  Tell me, a reminder of what?”

“What did you say, honey?”

My mother opened the front door, stuck her head out, and stretched her neck to peer behind me.

“Who are you talking too?”

I shook my head.  “No one.”

Sleep became difficult.  Every time I shut my eyes, I kept hearing the man in black whispering, “I’m your reminder.”

It wasn’t until I actually slept, that corridors of time began to send clarity my way through a beam of white light.  I stepped through the rays, shielding my eyes.  Once my vision adjusted, I spotted the man in black.  He spun and faced me with his eerie snarl.

“What were you supposed to remind me of?”

He glared at me with his catlike eyes and shouted, “Save your mother!”

Screams!

I woke to piercing screams.  Then I jumped out of bed with my heart practically in my mouth until bursting through her bedroom door.  My vision focused on a man dressed in black, his body on top of my mother, strangling her with a chord.

“Get off her!”

I tackled the monster and we both fell off the bed.  His fedora scooted away revealing his face, leaving me numb.

“Father, what are you doing?”

He punched my face.  The sting on my cheek sent a nauseating pain to my head.  While I was dazed, I heard my mother choking.  From the corner of my eye, I spotted her current boyfriend sitting on a chair.  A knife protruded out of his bloody chest.

“No!”  Mother pleaded.

Once again my father jumped on my mother.  I didn’t understand how he had gotten out of jail.  I pulled the knife off the stiff and lunged at my father, plunging the blade in his back.

As my father struggled for life next to my terrified mother, I spotted the stranger in black.  He grinned at me, tipped his hat and vanished.

Till this day I could never fully understand who the stranger in black was or where he came from.  Though I suspected he came from another time, a dimension beyond my current understanding.  Each night, before I slept, I prayed to see the dark messenger so I could thank him for helping me save my mother.

Each day I’d wake up and say, “We will meet again, my dark friend.  I’m sure of it.”

© Copyright Nomar Knight 2012. All rights reserved.

A Knight Chills Flash Fiction Presentation.

Fear the Unknown

Fear the Unknown

By Nomar Knight

Once again I find myself on the short end of the stick, wondering when people are going to learn to accept fate for what it is.  It’s a cruel, but necessary learning process.  My name is Mr. Coffin.  I teach high school English.  Every year I’m forced to move to a new school because where I reside, common sense doesn’t exist.  I perform to the best of my abilities.  Gain popularity with the students, and yet, I don’t even have a classroom. 

It amazes me how my students constantly overachieve in the standardized tests, yet the mediocre teachers continue to get rewarded.  So as I sit in my Honda, wondering how I can change my luck, a thought occurs to me.  I haven’t identified the enemy.  At first glance, it appears that another frightened teacher, unwilling to deal with the unknown, used her feminine tears to convince the powers that be to screw me again.  At least, that’s how other teachers will view her act of treachery.  Too bad they don’t know that I’m not an ordinary teacher.  In fact, I am no ordinary human. 

At last, the troubled teacher arrives in her grey vehicle.  A hint of sorrow touches my heart for I hate to see anyone cave in to fear.  I mumble to myself, “Best put this one out of her misery.”

I open the glove compartment and brush my fingers on the handle of a seven inch blade.  I stare at her as she finally exits her car. 

Danger!

My heart races and slams against my chest.  The anticipation of blood causes my manhood to begin to rise.  Images of brutal beatings bombard my mind.  It feels as if my darkest thoughts become reality.  I see myself moving in slow motion.  Another version of me hurries to the teacher and plunges the blade in her spine.  I even hear my imitator whisper, “How does it feel to get stabbed in the back?”

A horn blows, regaining my attention.  In the far distance I hear a tormented soul scream for her life.  For one instant, as the haze clears, an alternate reality seals off the visions and I sit in my vehicle.  My fingers stroke not the handle of a knife, but of a hairbrush. 

I take a deep breath and watch as the troubled teacher carries books up the stairs.  I grin, thankful that in this dimension, violence usually is the byproduct of poor choices.  Perhaps in an alternate universe I committed an unspeakable act, but in my current existence, I choose to meet fear of the unknown head-on.  I choose to rise to whatever challenges life has to offer.  As I retrieve a briefcase from the trunk of my car I mumble, “Lord, protect me from evil.”

I go to the office, ready to take on the groups that the frightened teacher left behind.  I wonder if I am given a classroom, how many rodents will come out of hiding to greet me.

Chronicles of a Vampire: A Dreamy Existence

Chronicles of a Vampire: A Dreamy Existence

By Nomar Knight

            I woke, naked and hot.  Sunlight splashed on my face.  For some reason the room spun.  A stinging sensation drew my attention to my neck so I passed a finger along side of it and felt two giant sized mosquito bites.  At first, when I tried to get up from bed my stomach churned, but the sensation soon faded.  I managed to get to the bathroom mirror and mewled, appalled at the size of the bites. 

            “Damn, Lorraina!”   

            I drank a cup of water and put on a t-shirt and shorts.  Images flashed in my mind.  It was as if parts of different movie scenes vied for air-time.  I opened the door to the terrace wondering if the sun would send me to an early grave.  Surely, getting bitten by a vampire didn’t yield positive results.  I dragged myself to the edge, leaning my head over, expecting to puke.  The dizziness I felt picked up in intensity.  Sunlight did not do my body good, yet I stayed and sat in a lounge chair, trying to get a grip on my sanity. 

            “What did you do to me, Lorraina?”

             A clear image of the vampire riding me in bed entered my thoughts.  The sudden realization that I was sore got my attention, but as I glanced downward, my temples vibrated from sharp pains.  A burst of memory blinded me as I recalled asking her with my mind.  Why are you doing this? 

Without moving her lips she said, “It’s the most effective way for you to see some of the things I’ve gone through.  You get a firsthand look into my life.  This experience will bond us so that you can better describe my story.”

As I regained my bearings in the balcony and tried to retrain my body to absorb the sunlight, I wondered if she hid a sinister agenda. 

The day was filled with an insatiable appetite to write down the images which seemed to form like a waking dream.  Though the sun maintained a stubborn refusal to depart, the scenes which flashed in my mind’s eye were all of darkness.  Apprehension and something else tainted the night air. 

I had typed sixteen pages of seemingly random acts of violence.  On a few occasions, she showed me how she felt about her twin sister, Marie Sandoval.  Though they argued, mostly over Lorraina’s choice of dinner, (victims) there was a genuine love among the sisters.  There was also a mystical connection between the two.  If Marie loved, Lorraina felt it.  If Lorraina exploded with anger, Marie would feel her pain and quickly tried to defuse the situation. 

  I recalled stepping away from my computer and lying down, unable or unwilling to eat.  My lips remained dry and no matter how much water I drank, the thirst wouldn’t quench.  Did I crave blood? The only way to test if she had come closer to turning me into a vampire would be to make contact with either an animal or a human.  I heard strange noises.  My vision blurred until I took off my glasses.  My senses had sharpened.  Then I saw the walls of my apartment collapse.  Thunder shot through darkening skies for darkness charged like a bull heading full steam at a matador. 

Voices.  I heard a man’s raspy voice. 

“Don’t make a sound and don’t move, little girl.  If your parents hear you, I’ll gut you with this knife.  Do you understand?”

Lorraina stood in the shadows with Marie.  Since they had the advantage of communicating with their thoughts, they carried a conversation without worrying about being discovered. 

            “We take him alive,” said Marie.

            “The court system sucks in this country.”   Lorraina licked her lips.  “Let’s eat him.”

            “No,” Marie shook her head, “besides, you just fed.”

            “I’ve got room for one more, especially that despicable bastard!”

            They heard a ripping sound as the man placed the knife on the pillow and tore the little girl’s panties. 

            Marie growled, “She can’t be more than eight.”

            “Let’s provide our own brand of justice.”

            “We can’t.  We have our orders.”

            The rapist whispered, “Shush, stop whimpering.”

            Lorraina giggled.

            “What’s so funny?”  Marie eyed her with suspicion.

            “He left the knife on the pillow.  We can make it look like the girl defended herself.”

            Marie grinned.  “You make the kill, but make sure the girl remains unharmed.”

            Lorraina flashed her fangs and using telekinetic powers, raised the knife high off the pillow.  As the man was all set to enter the girl, the knife plunged with amazing force in his back.  The rapist spit blood on the girl’s face, prompting her to scream. 

            Marie used her powers to make sure the girl could grip the knife’s handle.  She maneuvered the child’s hands in the right place.  The rapist remained motionless on top of the child.  Her parents burst through the door, providing them with their cue to exit.  They left without being spotted for the child’s parents would think they were shadows. 

             I don’t know how, but I was at the computer typing everything that happened in that dream.  To me it felt like a dream, but I realized it was a memory.  I recalled the odor I had smelled as if I was in the room with them.  It’s what lingered in the air earlier.  The scent of fear intoxicated me as my fingers danced on the keyboards.  I craved excitement.  I had to find a way to complete the scene and go where danger lurked.  When I was done, I spotted a toad outside my window by the stairs.  I eased my way around the apartment, towards the creature.  I lunged at my prey with a lust for hunger.  I had expected it to escape easily, but my reflexes were quicker.  As I cupped the slimy critter in my hands, excitement morphed to euphoria.  I opened my mouth, expecting fangs to flash, but nothing happened.  As I pushed the toad closer to my teeth, its odor caused me to gag, prompting me to drop the animal. 

            “What am I doing?”

            I attempted to shake off any remnants of the vampire Lorraina.  Following my hunger into the kitchen, I grilled a juicy piece of steak, grateful that I was still human. 

             Shivers lifted the hairs on the back of my neck when I heard her voice behind me.

            “Hello, darling!”

 © Copyright Nomar Knight 2011. All rights reserved.

A Knight Chills Presentation.

A Quiet Torment

A Quiet Torment

A Quiet Torment

By Nomar Knight

         As a parent, I expect for life to at least run like a rollercoaster all the while praying that it maintains the “natural order” of things.  I can take it when life throws its serene moments, tender times, trying emotions, conflicting battles, and mournful losses.  However, I hope life doesn’t twist tragedy around until I’m left wondering if I spent the last few years walking on my head.  I expect for the person born before me to leave us first, so it disturbs me when a parent loses a child.  I’m a father of two and losing one of my kids is my biggest fear.  I expect to go first since I was born first, but of course; life doesn’t work that way. 

     Unfortunately, death isn’t the only way to lose someone.  Imagine losing that which is most precious to you because evil rears its ugly head and like a thief someone abducts your child. 

     Abductions occur often.  In 2010, according to the U.S. Department of Justice, 2,185 children were reported missing every day. About a third of the victims were abducted by family.  Significant small percentages were taken by non-family members.  Incredibly, out of close to 800,000 abducted children; only 115 were reported as a typical abduction, meaning the child was taken by either a stranger or an acquaintance for the purpose of ransom or with the intent to kill the child. 

 In my first eBook short story, Fountain of Death, Officer Victor Prospero lives the quiet torment of losing a daughter.  In Victor’s case, his teenage daughter was abducted on Valentine’s Day.  As is fairly typical, it was suggested to him that his daughter ran away from home, looking for a better life.    

Once his own kind turns their back on him, his daughter’s disappearance takes its toll on his marriage.  Imagine how many nights Victor spends wondering if he was a bad parent.  He knows his daughter, Hope, and is willing to bet his life that she wouldn’t run out on the family. 

I guess the silent killer in all this, from a morale standpoint, is the mystery of her whereabouts.  Not a moment passes when he begins to see her in every teenager with similar resemblance.  A quiet torment weighs heavily on our hero.  You feel sorry for him as his world slowly collapses into an abyss where evil thrives. 

Could Officer Victor Prospero’s daughter be the victim of abduction?  Did she run away with a man?  Considering how many kids her age are taken and forced into the sex trade, it stands to reason he may never know his daughter’s fate.  But then again, never isn’t a word I favor.

Find the answers in my first eBook short story, Fountain of Death, and prepare for a chilling ride.


Click on the cover to purchase it on Amazon 

You may also purchase the book at Amazon co.uk here 

 And Amazon de here 



Special gratitude to Rebecca Treadway - cover art
Alex Morgan - editor

Catch you on the dark side.

Nomar Knight

©2011 Copyright.  Nomar Knight. All rights reserved.

A Knight Chills Exclusive  

Chronicles of Knight's Night With A Vampire: The Naked Truth

Chronicles of Knight’s Night with a Vampire: The Naked Truth

By Nomar Knight

             Last night I grew restless.  I got tired of sitting in my office, waiting for Oscuro to complete his story.  The last few times I had summoned him, a quick feeling of disparity massaged my shoulders.  Considering that Oscuro is the angel of depression, I took it as a good sign, only the sensation quickly faded.  He left me again to deal with more suicides.  Since I’ve been pretty happy of late, the dark angel has managed to stay away from me.  So what does a writer do when his main character doesn’t cooperate?  I don’t know about other writers, but I went out for a couple of beers. 

            The weather was finicky.  There were moments when bouts of hard rain pounded the pavement, and other times when it drizzled with an occasional blast of thunder in the distance.  

            Out of habit, I went to Julio’s Bar.  It’s a cozy place at the beach.  The NBA Championship game was on and I watched along with a boisterous crowd. 

            Anyway, after downing three Coronas, nature called.  I made my way to the men’s room which would normally be well lit.  However, last night something must have happened to the lighting because it was just clear enough for me to go about my business.  I stood with my back to the door to wash my hands, when I heard something familiar.  The distinct sound of metal sliding and a bullet being chambered brought back some gruesome memories.

            A man spoke in Spanish, “Quiero tu dinero y caltera.” 

            I turned slowly to find a bronzed, slender man about my height, pointing a nine millimeter gun at me.  He ordered me to give up my money and wallet.  It’s amazing how the body perspires when under severe stress.  Needless to say, I thought my heart was going to explode through my chest. 

            “Please, don’t shoot me.”

            It took all the energy I could muster just to utter a coherent sentence. 

            The mugger raised his weapon at my head and for some reason I saw him move his finger.  The guy was in the middle of pulling the trigger.  Even though the action happened so fast, I thought I was stuck in a time warp.  One second he was pulling the trigger to end my life, the next second he vanished into thin air. 

            My brief moment in a frozen state as if I was a statue didn’t last long.  I heard the man scream from inside the stall.  The frantic sounds of duress were extremely brief.  Before confusion could grab a permanent hold on me, I saw a pair of feminine legs that seemed endless.  A woman who wore a black miniskirt and a low cut matching blouse came out of the stall, grinning and licking blood off her lips. 

            “Hello darling.  Perhaps you should stick to drinking coffee.”

            “Lorraina?”

            Her fluid movements were too fast for me to capture because one second she was closing the stall door and the next she was caressing my dimpled chin. 

            “I missed you darling.”

            I expected her fingers to be cold to the touch, but since she had just fed, they were surprisingly warm. 

            “What brings you to my neck of the woods?”

            “I came to tell you a story.  Has Oscuro visited you yet?”

            I grimaced.  She chuckled.  At least it didn’t sound as scary as when she laughed.  She guided her fingers through the back of my neck and up to my head. 

            “Nice haircut.” 

            “Um, Countess, I’m a New Yorker which means I like my space.”

            I tried to make it look as if she had made me feel uncomfortable.  Truth be told, I was a few seconds away from kissing her full lips.  I had heard from her twin sister that no one could resist Lorraina. 

            “Take me to your place, lover.”

            She walked with me to my car.  I was pleased that the patrons focused on the game. 

            “Has Marie come to visit you yet?”

            Lorraina regained my attention with talk about her sister. 

            “Oh no,” I waved my hands to demonstrate my seriousness, “look Countess, I appreciate what you did for me tonight, but I just moved to a new place and I don’t want to have to move again.  No offense, but death follows you everywhere.”

            She stretched in the seat next to me and laughed.  I blasted the radio’s volume to high, hoping my stomach would stop churning. 

            “Do you want to hear my story or not?”

            I squeezed the steering wheel, nodding, maintaining my eyes on the road.  “Um, why would your sister come visit me?”

            The radio shut off by itself.  How could I have forgotten about her telekinetic powers?

            “My sister works for a secret intelligence agency.  She got word the mugger would be in your neighborhood.  When she saw you went out of your safe routine, she called me to make sure nothing happens to you.”

            “Marie is a wonderful person, um, vampire.”

            “The poor girl is delusional.  She still wants to be human.  Why she embraces her desire to be weak is beyond my comprehension.  People are nothing more than playthings and nourishment.”

            Lorraina grabbed my right knee.  Considering she had the power to break it, I was relieved when she showed a capacity to be affectionate. 

            The night’s excitement began wearing me down.  After securing my vehicle, I ascended the stairs wishing the vampire would whisk me up to my apartment. 

            “My, oh my, you are lazy.”

            I forgot she was a powerful, ancient vampire and could usually read minds. 

            “Can you read all our minds?”

            “No, only those I taste.”

            “What?”

            She chuckled.  I let her inside, trying my best not to think of anything, but her statement lingered in the air like smoke from an exploded grenade. 

            “When did you taste me?”

            “Remember the night you first dreamed about us?”

            It was in a nightmare that I first had met the vampire twins. 

            She eased her frame on the sofa and gestured for me to join her. 

            “Do you really think you were asleep?”

            Normally her smile would entice me to jump all over her, but the shock hadn’t worn off.  I wanted to shake the information out of her.

            She sported a wider grin.  “Darling, how do you think Marie and I can keep tabs on you?”

            “Didn’t you say Marie works for a secret organization?”

            “You didn’t hear that from me, but she used technology to pinpoint the bad guy’s location.  We always know where you are, like you usually sense when we’re near.”

            “Sometimes I get a prickly feeling at the back of my neck.”

            “That would be an angel or a ghost, darling.  You’d feel us when your stomach gets tight.”

            I left her alone in the living room and retrieved a notebook and pen from my office.  When I returned, she had peeled off her skirt and blouse and stretched out on the sofa wearing only a black thong.

            I dropped my pen.

            “I think it’s best if you see all of me so you can describe me accurately.  Don’t you agree?”

            I hadn’t noticed my mouth was open until I uttered, “Huh?”

            Perky nipples provided a most enticing topping to supple breasts. 

            “Hello, Nomar?”  She waved at me.  “Earth to Nomar, come in for a landing.”

            “Ah yes, the book,” I sat on a love-seat, directly across from her, not recalling how I had gotten there.  “Tell me your story.”

            She pointed to the floor where my pen still rested.  I rose to retrieve it, unable to release my gaze from her amazing green eyes.  She flashed fangs and everything went black.

             © Copyright Nomar Knight 2011. All rights reserved.

A Knight Chills Presentation. 

Graveyard Shift by Alex Morgan

Graveyard Shift
by Alex Morgan


Pauline wrapped her arms around her tighter in an effort to keep warm. “How long do we have to stay out here for your stupid fraternity initiation ritual?” she asked Bob. The night chilled the graveyard and the monolith they leaned against was even colder and hard. His arm over her shoulders provided little comfort.

Pauline gasped and grabbed Bob’s arm. “Over there! I saw something move.” She pointed to a large tombstone that appeared grey in the dark cemetery.

“It’s just your imagination, so relax” he replied with irritation in his voice.

She glanced back up at the granite figure of an angel carved into the stone. It reached with arms outstretched and a benevolent smile as if to welcome the dearly departed back home. However angelic it was meant to be, Pauline’s blood ran cold at the sight of it. In the light of day, it was probably very serene and comforting, but in the dark, it looked nothing of the sort.

“Just until dawn,” Bob replied as if that even was a few minutes away. Pauline checked her wristwatch in an instinctive move. It was too dark to see but she figured it was only midnight.

Great. Only six hours to go, she thought with growing unease inside her. How did I let myself get talked into this? I could be back in my room studying for Monday’s chemistry test, which I’ll probably flunk now.

“Legend has it that whoever spends the night next to this gravesite will be found the next morning, dead and lying in the arms of that angel.” Bob said, snapping her out of her thoughts. He jerked a thumb in its direction but didn’t look up as if afraid to lock eyes with it. “What a load of crap.”

Pauline responded but without much conviction. “I thought the legend only applied to children out here. The angel is said to protect them by taking them to heaven. My question is protecting them from what?”

He shrugged. “That’s why we don’t have anything to worry about.” Bob said. “We’re not children any more.” He squeezed her tighter.

“Have any of your fraternity brothers actually known anyone who died out here?” She made no effort to hide the disdain in her voice.

“I doubt it. That’s why they make this part of the initiation. To see who isn’t scared by some stupid legend. Come on, let’s make out while we’re waiting.” He leaned over to plant a kiss on her lips, but a faint noise above them stopped him. They looked up at the direction of the sound.

“What was that?” Pauline gasped.

“I don’t know,” Bob responded. “I don’t see anything.” His voice had dropped to a whisper. After a few seconds, the sound didn’t repeat. Pauline realized she was holding her breath and let out a loud sigh of relief.

“Are you scared?” Bob’s smile taunted her.

She glanced at him just long enough to give him a scowl and then looked back at the angel. “Wait a minute,” she said. “The angel’s hands have changed.”

Bob craned his neck to see. “You’re imagining things.” He tried to pull her close to him but she pushed away.

“I am not!” She pointed up. “The hands were facing up. Now they’re palms down. And it’s eyes are looking at us. Before, they were staring out into the cemetery.”

“Will you stop it?” Bob snapped. “It’s all in your mind. Just calm down.”

Pauline did not believe she was hallucinating but allowed him to pull her close to him. Angry that Bob had dismissed her concerns so leisurely, Pauline decided against saying anything more. Fury replaced her fear and gave rise to thoughts reconsidering her relationship with him. If he was so cavalier about something as mundane as this, what would he do if it were something really important?

Another sound, louder than the first, interrupted her thoughts. She looked up in surprise. The angel’s benevolent smile was replaced by a maniacal sneer. The fingers, once delicate and welcoming, were now hooked into claws as it reached down. A scream died in Pauline’s throat as it grabbed her in a cold iron grip.

Word Count: 700

Alex Morgan is a published author of Gay Erotica who is multifaceted as he's adept at writing horror and comedy, not to mention numerous articles to his credit.

You may read more by this talented author here. 

© Copyright Alex Morgan 2011. All rights reserved. 

Alex Morgan has granted Knight Chills non-exclusive rights to display this work.

Silent Scream by Nomar Knight

        Melissa Nieves sat at her ninth floor window listening to teenagers playing hip hop music. Her apartment faced the back of the building towards the Pitt Street swimming pool. The lampposts revealed enticing, blue water, undisturbed for the past hour when it closed for the night. Nearby she watched her big brother standing in front of graffiti filled walls, waiting for customers to buy a substance that promised an escape from everything, including the terrible humidity. She longed for the days she could change her dreaded existence. “Mom, are you awake?”

         She listened as her mother snored softly on an old sofa. Her long mane covered her chiseled face. Melissa sipped a cup of ice tea, wishing she was rich enough to jump in her own private pool to celebrate her thirteenth birthday. She fought off tears for the only person to wish her a happy birthday was her brother, Phillip.

         A brown Hummer pulled next to Phillip. Two men wearing baggy jeans and over-sized t-shirts got out of the vehicle, causing Melissa’s heartbeat to increase. One sported a Yankee cap, identical to her brother’s. The other wore his hair shaved close to the skull, a fancy name carved on his head. When he stepped under the street light, Melissa appreciated the scripted letters which spelled out chocolate. For some reason the man’s wide neck reminded her of a frog.

         Phillip glanced up in her direction and led the men to a dark corner, disappointing Melissa. She knew what he was, the neighborhood drug dealer. While publicly she had to deny knowing his business, privately she wished he didn’t have to sell drugs, but how else would they survive?

         Everything stopped. The fan that blew humid air on her face ceased to function. The streetlights shut down. Darkness blanketed the city. “Mom, wake up. The lights are off.”

         Her mother stirred, mumbled and continued sleeping. Melissa listened as the teenagers howled like a pack of wolves. Panic filled the streets like a black plague, hell-bent on striking fear into the weakest of souls. Within seconds, the sounds of windows being smashed shattered the routine city noises. People screamed as if hell itself spilled over into the tireless city streets.

         An overwhelming stabbing pain gnawed at Melissa’s gut. She’d get the apprehensive feeling just before something terrible happened. “Phillip’s in danger.” She gasped.

         Extending her hands in front of her, she inched her way towards the sofa, hoping to recruit her mother’s assistance. “Mother, wake up! Phillip is in danger.” She reached her shoulders and shook them. A soft moan escaped from her, but she continued to sleep.

         Melissa screamed, “I hate drugs!” She balled her fists, tempted to pound her mother’s head. “I’ll save him myself.”

         She made her way in the darkness, towards a kitchen drawer. She rifled through its contents and found a small flashlight. When she turned it on, a circle of light surrounded her. She made her way to the locked door, wondering why she loathed the darkness. Something tugged inside her. Something urged her to get out. Her brother was in danger.

         She unlocked the door, quietly closing it. When she flashed the beam before her, Goosebumps ran up her arms. A tiled narrow hallway revealed red doors scattered throughout graffiti tagged walls. Melissa sensed that beyond the reach of her light, something wicked waited for her. Neighbors arguing racked her nerves. As she approached the steel elevators, she listened to a few female voices screaming to be rescued. Tempted to act, she decided her brother’s need for her presence outweighed her desire to help. She shouted, “Don’t worry; I’ll get the security guard.”

         Immediately after she spoke, the females pounded on the walls of the elevator, their desperate pleas triggering memories of cobwebs and closed coffins. She didn’t understand where the morbid images came from, but shook them off, concentrating her efforts on the stairwell.

         The light dimmed as her sandals stomped on the concrete steps. She dared not look within the shadows for evil loomed dreadfully close. She made sure her hand swept wherever her vision aimed. Considering the flashlight’s flickering, she decided prudent to move faster. Breathing. She heard a heavy wheezing behind her as if some monster approached, all set on cutting off her lungs. She paused ready to defend herself. Then as she saw a dark shadow approaching, she realized she had no weapon. Throwing a small flashlight would not save her from the evil she had in mind.

         A boy about ten years of age, stopped dead in his tracks when he saw her. She gathered her composure as the child who struggled for breath, raised his hands in surrender. She said, “Come on kid, I won’t hurt you.”

         “Medicine.” He struggled for air, “My daddy’s downstairs. He has my pump.”

         Melissa reached out for the boy and rushed him down the stairs towards the exit. A much older version of the lad entered the building, grateful to see the child. “Take it, son.” He handed the boy a gizmo which he promptly put into his mouth, squeezing. A hissing verified medicine was going inside him.

         Melissa reached the entrance of the building, sad the moonless night added to her neighbors’ misery. The flashlight died. The only visible illumination came from the headlights of passing vehicles. She raced towards the rear of the building, careful not to trip over debris or run into garbage bins. All around her she heard people shouting. A woman cried, “Sinners! Repent for the end of the world is upon us!”

         Of all the sounds, the people shouting in fear, windows being smashed, children crying, and the sound she did not want to hear, the sound which visited her neighborhood often, blackout or not, echoed nearby. Three gunshots rang across the hectic night air. The dreaded popping noises appeared to come from the vicinity where Phillip had gone with the men.

         Inside, her guts twirled in knots. Ever since she could remember she had a knack for foretelling the future. The minute she laid eyes on the two men she sensed they were bad news. She particularly wondered how her eyes were able to read the man’s haircut from such a distance. “Chocolate.” She whispered, “If you did something to my brother…”

         “Get his stash!”

         The dark skinned gentleman with the neon sign for a skull pointed a nine millimeter gun as the Yankee hat wearing hoodlum rifled through Phillip’s pockets.

         “Phillip!” She shouted. The men pointed weapons at Melissa.

         The one known as chocolate said, “Holy shit! What’s wrong with your eyes?” He crossed himself and kissed his finger.

         The other one moved away from her wounded brother and uttered, “Tiene ojos rojo. Es una diabla.”

         Melissa translated his words in her mind. She wondered why they thought she had red eyes, but she admitted to herself, images appeared clear, highlighted by a tint of red. She did not understand how two men carrying guns became afraid of her. Clicking sounds caused her to crouch. They pulled the trigger on their weapons. The firearms created the clicking noises. Their guns were useless.

         She wondered if the little light there was played tricks on the men. At last she kneeled by Phillip’s side, staring at the Spanish speaking hoodlum and said, “I’m not a devil.”

         Chocolate spoke as if a child, “We were under orders. He had to die.”

         Rage flared through every fiber of Melissa’s body. A burst of energy surged through her. She pointed at the cap wearing thug and watched in awe as a thunderbolt flew out of her fingers, lifting the cretin thirty feet in the air and tossed him against a brick wall. A funky charbroiled odor permeated the night air. His lifeless corpse landed in an awkward heap.

         Phillip grabbed her leg, “Hurry, get momma.”

         Melissa watched as her brother bled in the alley. His panting breaths ceased and his eyes took on a glassy glow. She pointed both her index fingers at the evil man known as Chocolate and yelled, “You will pay for this!”

         Instead of a thunderbolt extending from her new found power, a puff of white smoke surrounded Phillip’s killer. His body shrunk, no longer taking on human form. He transformed from a human drug dealer into a brown toad.

         “Congratulations Melissa.” Her mother stood at the entrance of the alley, her long red hair swaying in spite of a windless night. The few surrounding trees remained still, yet energy surrounded her. Her eyes glowed an alien green.

         “Mom, what just happened?”

         “Happy birthday, my child. Now do us all a favor and restore your brother.”

         An electrical energy pulsated out of her heart. She cupped her brother’s chest and a yellow force field healed his wounds, bringing him back to life.

         Melissa’s mother said, “Living in the city is not easy. These foolish mortals worry about the silliest things. Look how they go ape over a simple blackout.”

         “What am I?” Melissa helped her brother rise to his feet.

         “We are witches. In time you will remember your past lives.”

         “Mom, why am I no longer afraid of the dark?”

         Her mother gestured for them to get going, “I’ll tell you everything upstairs, but like me you possess night vision.” She glanced towards the enemy, “Oh, don’t forget your pet toad.”

         Melissa picked up Chocolate, the evil drug dealer and felt him tremble in her hands. “Maybe we should cook toad soup.”

         Phillip said, “I’d like that very much.”

         The funny thing about the trek back to the apartment was that Melissa heard Chocolate screaming for dear life. She instinctively knew that to the average person, his screams were silent as if a vortex of despair funneled his cries to a world where darkness ruled.

         When they reached the building, her mother said, “Today your powers are unleashed.”

         Melissa smiled, anxious to learn more about her unique abilities.

© Copyright 2010 Nomar Knight. All rights reserved.

Nomar Knight has granted Knight Chills non-exclusive rights to display this work.

Odd Surprise

Six-year-old Mona Peterson watched a quartet of flies buzz in and out of a gap in the wooden planks on the living room floor. Her hazel eyes followed the pests as they flew in a circular pattern. Every few seconds one fly would break ranks and plunge into an opening. The others followed, disappeared for an instant, and then came out to begin the strange routine again.

After three minutes of witnessing this odd behavior, Mona peeked in the dark hole. Nothing was visible. Each time the flies exited the gap, she moved her head out of the way. When they flew in, she opened her right eye wide, hoping to discover the reason for the insects’ odd behavior.

“Honey, what are you doing?” Mona’s babysitter asked.

The little girl glanced towards the sofa but quickly returned her gaze to the floor.

“Mona, are you sad that your daddy was rushed to the hospital? Don’t worry, he’ll be alright.”

Mona continued to focus on the morbid aerial show.

“Mona?” The babysitter rose from the sofa and stood over the little girl. “What are you doing?”

Mona pointed at the flies and said, “They’re playing peek-a-boo.”

The sitter crouched next to Mona and with a key, jimmied the loose floorboard. All of a sudden, the four flies sprung out followed by ten more. Mona’s loud screams carried throughout the house. Inside the hole lay a bloody finger with her father’s gold wedding band still on it.


245 words

Fallen

The sun threatens to break through angry, gray clouds. While I’m on my back, I stare up at the sky, admiring the Creator’s artistic display and pray for a semblance of holy revelation. A quick glimpse at my feet reveals a chaotic formation of purple blotches on my aching legs. With each simple movement I attempt, painful electrical impulses shoot throughout my naked, feminine body. I rise and grimace with the realization my legs must carry humanity’s heaviest burden. I almost jump for joy but the pain in maintaining my balance bathes me with perspiration. My lungs fill with gobs of air, drowning me with a new welcomed affliction. I raise my bloody right hand and shield my eyes as glorious rays beam down from Heaven.

“I did it!” I wince as friction strains my throat. Then a cold breeze brushes my amber tresses and as if by magic, it whispers in my ears: Water, you need water to survive. At last the sun’s warmth coats me with hope. A few white feathers float towards an oasis that waits in the middle of barren land.

Once again I look up and smile, “Thank you my Lord.”

My first step as a woman comes with pain. The fall from heaven still hurting; I grimace, stumble and crash face first on the sand. Determined to survive, I drag my body over rocks to an oasis and sip the essence of life. I am an Angel no more.


245 words