Good Morning, welcome to the latest in my series of using a daily writing prompt to spend 10-15 minutes getting some practice in (although I’ve been averaging 20-30, I get into the ideas). Please leave your feedback and your own responses to the prompt.
Prompt: On Halloween night, you find a box at your door that contains a strange note and a little something from each of the people who have hurt you in the past year.
Genre: Halloween/Horror
Source: 101 Horror Writing Prompts (Scream-worthy prompts for horror stories)
Time Spent: 30 minutes
Word Count: 940
Prompt: On Halloween night, you find a box at your door that contains a strange note and a little something from each of the people who have hurt you in the past year.
I sighed as I looked out my front window. It had been a long day, between having to buy candy at the last minute, and the constant getting up and down to pass said candy out to the Trick-or-Treaters that milled around the neighborhood. I wished it hadn’t been so cold, otherwise I would have just sat outside. Registering that the bright orange sun was slipping below the horizon, bathing the neighborhood in an amber glow I realized that there would not be much time left before this yearly task had ended.
Another dozen or so, quite chilly looking, children came by for their candy, in costumes that I did not even fully register, before the sun was set and a moonless dark hung over the world. I was just walking the candy bowl back to the kitchen, still about a third full which I was not unhappy with, when a knock came at the door.
“One Moment,” I shouted and with a roll of the eyes went back to my door, determined to turn my porch light off after this tardy Trick-or-Treater was provided candy. Forcing a smile on my face, I opened the door and my greeting died in my throat.
In the pale, yellow light of my porch light, sat a box, elegantly wrapped in black paper with a red bow atop it. I hesitantly stepped out into the cold and looked up and down the street. It had taken me merely seconds to get to the door, but there was no one in sight. In fact, there was no sign of anyone in the neighborhood that was rapidly filling with fog.
Hesitantly, I checked the package for a tag, or a name, but there was nothing. Gingerly, I picked it up, finding it surprisingly light for its size, and went back inside, making sure to turn my porch light out.
Anxiety thoughts of it being a bomb or containing poison chased themselves around my head as I carefully put it on my kitchen island. Inspecting the box and wrapping in the bright lights of the kitchen yielded no further information.
I sighed again as I carefully unwrapped the package. Within the wrapping, which I think might have actually been silk instead of paper, was a unassuming brown box. I cut through the tape as gently as I could and opened the lid. I was not prepared for what was inside.
Sitting atop more black silk were several smaller items: A small, silver ring, an ornate and decorated beer mug, a harmonica, a video game controller, and a single, red rose. Taking a little time to inspect them, I eventually came to the conclusion that they were all items I knew to be of great, personal value belonging to former friends and coworkers of mine. All of whom had done me some form of wrong during the year.
Needless to say, I was puzzled sincerely by this and was even more confused as to who would give these to me, and why, especially since none of the people knew each other. Hell, the owner of the ring, a coworker who nearly got me fired by throwing me under the bus for her mistake, and the video game controller, an old high school friend who I had a huge fight with over me feeling taken advantage of in our friendship, lived on opposite sides of the country.
I took the items and the silk out of the box, and under it I found a piece of paper, which looked like old parchment, on which was written in a beautiful, cursive script that I took me a minute to read:
A token now of my esteem
To join you as a team
Wronged you have been
But balance now is seen
Together we shall be
And soon they’ll fear you and me
Once I had reached the end of the strange letter, I looked up and realized that the world had gone silent and dark. I could hear nothing but my own breathing, the kitchen light above me seemed almost to barely give off any light, and looking out my windows the fog had grown so thick that nothing could be seen at all.
A knock came at the door. I froze.
My porch steps creaked and there was another knock, more forceful this time.
A feeling like a cold finger tracing down my spine caused me to shiver involuntarily. Another knock at the door. I had no idea what was out there, my heart was in my throat, and a fear like I have never experienced gripped me. Another knock. Feeling a sense of inevitability, I took a deep breath and walked slowly toward the door.
There were two more knocks at the door before I reached it. Slowly I undid the lock, turned on the light in the vein hope that it would help, and opened the door. A dark figure was standing right in front of me, hand raised to knock again. It walked toward me.
I scurried backward into my living room, holding the letter out in front of me as if it was some kind of protection, and froze with words demanding an explanation caught in my throat.
Standing before me was. . .me, but well dressed, with a scarred nose and deep, black eyes. A smile, both mirthful and ice cold playing upon the lips in a way that I don’t think my mouth has ever moved before. He stopped and looked me over just as I was looking over him.
“Oh,” he said in a voice at least an octave lower than mine. “This is going to be so much fun.”
I hope that you enjoyed! I would love to read your response to this prompt as well and also what you think of what I wrote!
I hope you all have a wonderful day, get the chance to do or experience something creative, and I’ll catch you on the next one.
-Jon
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