A Short Story about Life... Cept Life isn't Short and youll always be Late!, till the day we all awake.

Ignite These Flames of Terror
 Stephanie Schembri   

Art By Mike Jordan

    I walk up to the corroded, aged, shabby house. I hear the crows shrieking as I reach out to open the dusty rusted door. I feel like I am in a scary movie and I cannot find my way out. I walk further and see her standing in the living room. I say, "Hello" and I stand there awkwardly waiting for a reply. Her face is pale white and I notice the saggy wrinkly bags under her eyes. There is no reply so I walk to the large dining room and I look all around and see three white lit candles on the dining room table. There are cob webs on the ceiling and rats running across the room. I say hello to her husband and three children. I have known her husband for a couple of years now. We were good friends in high school. Her children continually are laughing and running around the kitchen table. The women's husband calls out, "Time for dinner."     Everyone makes their way to the kitchen table and takes a seat waiting to be served. The butler comes in and walks around the table twice and I get a sense that something dreadful is going to happen.

    I begin to stare at my plate and I notice the blood oozing from the piece of steak. As I am sitting there at the kitchen table I look around and I see everyone eating as if they never ate before. I stare at the woman, her face still pale white. She looks as if a tick sucked the life out of her. I murmur and say, "How are you?" The women replies quietly and says, "Fine." As she spoke she sounded inanimate, depressed and forlorn. I sit there poking at the piece of steak that lies on the crystal clear plate. I maneuver around a little bit at my seat. I begin to feel as if I don’t belong here and I get a sense that the woman has something up her sleeve.
    I excuse myself from the kitchen table. As I push in my chair I hear the women mumble under her breath. I walk away from the table ignoring what just happened. The woman mumbles under her breath once more. Thinking to myself, I know I must leave this aged house. I feel as if these people are hiding something from me, but apart of me wants to find out these secrets behind this corroded, aged house. I walk to the door and lay my hand on the rusted, smudged, old door knob. I feel a draft of cold crisp air traveling up my back. I get these chills creeping up my arms and I take two steps back and fall to the floor. At this point all I see is total darkness and begin to smell as if someone lit a match to ignite this flame of terror.
    I open my eyes and spring up from my bed and wipe the sweat off my forehead. I look all around the room thinking it’s a dream but, I am still in this aged house. I hear a voice cry out, “Help!” I pull the covers off of me and notice shackles on my ankles and I cannot get out of the bed. The women walks in the room with an evil grin on her face. As she gets closer I notice this needle in her hand and this unknown liquid leaking and dripping on the hard wooden floor. I get nervous and my heart begins to beat fast. The women stands in front of my bed and injects this unknown liquid into my arm. I stare into her brown eyes and drift off to sleep. A few moments later my mother wakes me up and I start to realize it was all a dream.