Day 55 Writing Short Stories

The Line

The heavy greenish color hung over the city like a wet cloth, pressing down, making people tuck their heads as if it were raining hard. The city smelled of wet garbage and desperation. I hunched my shoulders along with the other pedestrians, occasionally glancing at the sky, warding it off with my middle eye.

I had painted my lips red today to ease the pressure of what was to come. It was a cheap trick my Nana had taught me; it worked, nevertheless. The red lips made it easier to concentrate on the now, on what I was to do rather than worry about the future or my demise. I knew I could die today. It was a constant since I took over my Nana’s work. I could still feel her fingers around my hand, pressing tight as she swore me in. The last words she had uttered on her deathbed were about how I could never let my guard down; how there was no one else who could do what I do. It was my duty now.

At this moment, the green, wet blanket pressing on the city felt like the moment I might accidentally slip. The pressure was getting to me, despite the vigorous training Nana had made me go through, despite knowing that the world of monsters was real.

The heavy threat had separated the lines between dimensions. The monsters could sneak in, and they could have their taste of flesh. There were always innocent victims. The question was never about that; it was always about how many and whether I could push the boundary shut and drive away the stench of rotten flesh.

I glanced over my shoulder. The shadows were getting longer. There was a substance to them that hadn’t been there a moment ago.

I hurried my steps. I had to get to the observatory before hell broke loose. I licked my red lips and dug my nails into my palms. I pushed a careless woman aside as she was about to step into the long, thick shadow with claws already pushing out.

She cursed at me, and, just for a stupid moment, I shouted at her that she should have thanked me.

—

Oh, oh, I have been waiting to write about this image for a long time. When I came across it, I knew there was a good story behind it. I just didn’t know what it was, but here it is, and it makes sense. I was surprised that the woman had agency and power to fight off the haunting city and its towering buildings. I’m glad she had.

What I got today was experimental (still not getting it) horror, an overcoming-a-monster story done in the first-person point of view. I’m happy that I could write this one despite sleeping poorly last night. It was powered by listening to Alan Moore. Okay, I will take some credit, as I had already edited my book before writing the short story, and the editing went well, so an initial sparkle was already kindling inside me.

Thank you for reading! Have a sparkling day ❤ Don’t let the lines get you!