Foggy London lamp    <3 ~Repinned Via tami lahis  (Found on Pinterest)

It was a little foggy today so I decided to use it as inspiration … This is a very random short story. I used Neil Gaiman’s Graveyard book as a source of inspiration, and then ideas just began flooding in. If you haven’t read any of his works please try and find some time to do so… they are fantastic! 


There was a child in the darkness and he held a small flashlight. It was an ordinary flashlight, one that you could find in any convenience store, or bargain shop. The rubber handle was black, with two striking red stripes that went towards the shaft. The glow that emitted from the end did not seem too bright at first, but it dazzled spectacularly through the fog.

The torch had one simple job this night, it was to signal the creature. It’s task was almost complete.
The park gate was left ajar, from when the boy had walked through it. He had doused the street lights by throwing rocks at them. In the park, the only source of light was held in his fingertips.
Threads of fog swirled around him, encasing him in a cocoon of mist and shadow. The boy, Matthew, stood silently looking past the clouds of vapor.

The hunt was almost over, and time was nearly up. Matthew smiled, prematurely, thinking of the carnage. Five were marked tonight. The woman at number 5 was the first tonight. The creature had found her, and left her on the kitchen floor. The fat man from number 7 had been sitting on the toilet, the radio that had been playing still chimed out classical music. The young couple from opposite the street, in their brightly coloured bedroom, had been other the covers. One was left. The old lady, Mrs. Shaw.
The boy, Matthew, pressed on the torch button once more, flexing his fingers as he did so. One more and his task would be done. One more and revenge would be his. His blonde hair was greasy, and his eyes were dark from lack of sleep. He wore the thinnest of clothes, but did not feel the cold. He had not felt anything for a long time.

Mrs. Shaw, the last one, always walked her dog late at night. She always walked the same route, and took the same amount of time. The gate was open, and she had walked through it some while ago. All the boy, Matthew now needed, was the creature.
Mrs. Shaw’s dog was a Labrador. He was the same age as the boy. The Labrador, Cocoa, had barked at him, the night they took his father away. He had bitten his father on the leg, and wrestled him to the ground. The boy, Matthew, thought for a moment that perhaps he should add another to the list. Perhaps Cocoa should be marked too. She was no innocent, she had not defended her father when he had done nothing wrong.
The boy, Matthew, thought back to that night as he waited. The creature was still no where in sight, but he still had time.
It had been 5 years ago to the day when he was taken away from his father. They had been sitting in the front room watching television as they did on most evenings. The boy had of course finished his homework and eaten dinner. They would sit and watch the news.

The boy’s father was a teacher. He was a single parent. He had been the boy’s best friend. The blare of the news did not drone on the raucous knocks on the door, or the angry mob that had formed outside. It had been 7.30pm. The weather report had just began.
The father had answered the door. The boy still remembered the shouts, the anger, the sirens.
“You don’t deserve to be a father…”
The boy had looked on unblinkingly. The woman from number 5 had taken his hands and pulled him closer.
“You’re safe now…” She had whispered.

The boy walked towards the centre of the field. His black shoes, gleaming slightly from the glow of the torch. The creature was here.
The sunken in face, and unfocused eyes looked upon the boy. The skin was a sallow colour, almost grey in complexion. The smell, that once made the boy’s stomach turn went disregarded. The creature was tall, and ghastly looking, it could have been human. Blood dripped from the nails, as it held out a hand, dropping teeth into the boy’s outstretched palm.
The creature sniffed the air. His eyes suddenly wild with anticipation. It looked around like a blood hound, lowering it’s back so it was crouched. It let out a slow rumbling noise, a grunt that showed its anticipation and hunger.

The boy, Matthew, held onto the creatures arm. It awaited for his signal, before darting off into the night. The boy watched him off until he was swallowed by darkness. A tear dropped down his face as he murmured:
“Last one Dad … then you’ll be free” …


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