By BD Scott
Where is it coming from?
Behind this wall.
Down this hallway.
Through this door.
And in here.
Who is in my own place?
I live alone.
A siren screams by far below outside my fourteenth floor window.
Crisis is everywhere these days.
But, in my place?
Around the corner, my eyes discover her!
She’s naked and kneeling.
Her eyes drain of a black substance.
Her skin is pale and dry.
Her expression seems to expose a distant yearning.
Or a warning.
Her long black hair covers her from ears to her knees.
Deep scratches gape open on her back.
“Who are you?”
“How did you get in here?”
What do I do with a woman who shrieks and refuses to speak?
I have no idea who she is or how she got in.
I live alone, dammit!
I reach for her.
My hands go right through her!
I have touched — nothing?
But the blood on my tiled floor is real.
And it’s not mine.
She opens her mouth.
Is she going to scream?
I hear nothing.
Will she reach for me?
I can no longer feel myself breathe or the air around me!
Everything has stopped.
BD Scott, Author, Producer of Bestshorthorrorstories.com & Founder of Friedrich Imagines, Ltd. a media production company