The Visitor

I was going through some old projects of mine.
A few years ago a friend of mine found a list of 2-3 sentence horror stories and we used them as prompts. Though my first prompt is the only one that ever got finished as a short story (though never published) I thought I would share it with you.

This was the short horror story
The last thing I saw was my alarm clock flashing 12:07 before she pushed her long rotting nails through my chest, her other hand muffling my screams. I sat bolt upright, relieved it was only a dream, but as I saw my alarm clock read 12:06, I heard my closet door creak open.

This was the beginning of my short story (it continues to the end but as it is stiller anther long for a blog post I thought I would only post the beginning)

            Sharp, jagged nails ran down her cheek and towards her throat. Claire’s breathing was heavy as she stared intently at the wall to the right. Too terrified to look at the face that went with the hand, she let the nails run down her to her heart, where they stopped, every time.

“Another year, deary,” Claire Pace slowly turned her head to look at the woman’s face. Though she was only five she had seen that face every year on the eve of her birthday. It’s sunken clouded over eyes always looked straight through her. Last year she had cried out for her mother, which had led to some repercussions from the creature of her closet. She had been left with five long scratches down her back that stung in the morning.

“Why won’t you leave me alone?” Claire pretended not to be scared, though it was difficult with a rotting hand on her chest. She didn’t want anything like last year to happen again so she had planned a new tactic. The creatures matted hair, missing in places, fell over her cheek as the woman moved closer to her. She tried not to recoil, though she did twitch and the muscles in her neck tightened, causing the woman’s hand to clench harder around the flesh on her chest, right above her heart.

“You’ve been sent to me,” the woman moved further still towards Claire. She could feel the woman’s nose press into the soft spot behind her ear. Claire closed her eyes, knowing that their little meetings never lasted long and she could go back to bed. “I have to come and make sure you are growing nicely, so that one day I shall whisk you away and you will be mine,” the rotting hand pressed its nails deeper into her flesh in a longing to take her now. “But,” she paused and Claire’s breathing got shallow and fast. “You’re only five, and I have to wait until the timing is right,” the rotting flesh stung her nose and the warm breath in her ear made her shiver.

Claire slowly moved to look at her clock on her nightstand. She watched the digits change from twelve-fourteen to twelve-fifteen. Her breathing slowed to a more relaxed pace and she flinched slightly as the nails grasped her one last time before retreating.

“Until next year beautiful,” Claire sat up and watched the woman, hobbled over and hair missing in chunks, retreat towards her closet across from her bed. Claire let out a sigh of relief as the door clicked shut. Flopping back down into her bed she stared at the bumps on her ceiling. It would be another sleepless night. The woman always gave her nightmares and kept her up. She sighed and rolled over, closing her eyes, trying to fall asleep.