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Articles: Short Stories | A Foggy Night
- Mrs. malathi kona
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Preferring to write horror stories, this short was written a few weeks ago.
A Foggy Night...
I move silently through fog filled cobbled streets. In the tiny terraced houses where people are still awake, gaslights glow like ruddy smears through grime-caked windows. Am I a fool to be here in the early hours? After all, thieves and murderers may be hiding in every darkened doorway, patiently waiting for their next victim.
I walk on, head bowed, the brim of my hat pulled low over my brow. The thick, choking, autumn fog grows thicker by the minute.
I stop and look to my right. A man, fairly tall, stands less than six feet from me, and yet, he is no more than a phantom in the night, shrouded by mist. The light from a nearby window gives him an eerie incandescent glow. A black cape is draped over his shoulders. He moves forward and I can see his gaunt, unshaven face.
“Is it money you want?' I ask, putting a hand in my pocket.
“That, and whatever else you got. What’s in the bag?”
I grip the bag tight and draw it close to my chest. “It contains my work. It is of little use to you.”
“I’ll be the judge of that. Now, ‘and it over!” He reaches out with both hands. In his right hand, he is holding a large knife.
“I will give you one guinea. For that, you will return to the gutter from whence you came, and I will walk away unscathed.”
The man begins to chuckle. “Do you know who I am?” he asks, waiving the knife in my face.
“The head scum of this God forsaken place?”
“You have such wit sir. It will be a wheeze when the papers tell all that I ‘as ‘ad ‘me first male victim. So now I’m go in’ to cut your up and spill your guts in the street. What say your to that, eh, your royal bleeding’ highness?”
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