Stories from the Sentinel: 1897

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Her voice broke hearts, and I killed her.

There’d been word of a stranger sitting on the wall along North Road and the Hollow. How that word came to the Sentinel is still unknown, but I hope the one who brought it to town was damned to Hell.

At a little past ten in the morning, a pair of young women went out to see who was there. These women, the Curtis sisters, were no shrinking violets. On their persons, they carried pistols, and they were more than capable when it came to defending themselves.

When they hadn’t returned by mid-day – and since I happened to be in the offices – I was asked to check on them, and I was happy to oblige.

I saw the sisters stretched out on the road, their heads twisted around the wrong way and facing into the dust. The stranger, a woman, was sitting on the wall. She seemed disinterested in the dead sisters, but when she perked up some when she saw me.

I drew my Colts, cocked the hammers back, and approached with care.

The woman spoke, and the sound of her voice drove me to my knees. I tried to bring the Colts up, to gun her down, but I felt my heart tearing in my chest. Struggle as I might, there was naught I could do but sink to the road. I let the Colts fall from my hands and remained still, my heart repairing itself even as the tears continued.

At last, she went silent, and my heart finished mending itself as she drew near. I waited, still, and patient. From the corner of my eye, I saw her teeth, all of which were jagged gray. A deeply red tongue licked her lips, and she squatted down beside me, her nostrils flaring as she leaned close.

When her head was close to mine, I struck.

My teeth sank into her larynx, and I bit down. A bilious fluid splashed across my face, and as she jerked away, her larynx remained in my teeth. She tried to scream, but nothing escaped her lips.

An expression of horrific understanding flashed across her face, but it was too late.

In a moment, I had my knife out, and I gut her.

A look of pure hatred filled her eyes, and that was fine.

The feeling was mutual.

I thrust my hands up under her rips, found her heart, and ripped the damned thing out.

#horror #fear #art

Published by

Nicholas Efstathiou

Husband, father, and writer.

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