Stories by Sarah

The Room

The door hung askew in its frame. Hazy yellow light, like a saint’s halo, leered at me from around the cracks, suggesting that someone, or something, was already in my room. I shuddered and continued tentatively down the hallway.

Feeling uneasy, I chastised myself for my situation. If I wasn’t so poverty stricken after my divorce, I could have afforded my own place, and not be forced to reside in this creepy, old, share home.

I reached out to turn the handle, when cold gusts surrounded me. Strange, I thought, looking around for the source of air. I folded my arms around my body, vigorously rubbing my skin.

Then I heard it. A shallow, rasping voice in my ear, unmistakable in its malice and intent.


Shocked and confused I turned to see who had voiced the command, but there was no one there. Thinking I must be going crazy, I shook my head, opened the door and stepped inside.

A rope lay coiled like a snake at my feet; a noose tied at its end.

Again I heard the voice say, “Leave” as the rope began to move.

I turned and ran, knowing nothing on this holy earth would ever make me return…

By Sarah ©2018

Image credit J.  Hardy Carroll

Prompt: The Sunday Whirl, Wordle 338; and also, Sunday Photo Fiction – February 11th 2018

21 thoughts on “The Room”

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