My short stories

[Zenith]

The man gaped numbly at the letter on his desk. They were coming. Why was he surprised? He always knew they would come...Knew, but never believed. This, however, was different. There it was; concrete proof that he had been right all along. He read the letter again. It was short and simple, reading the following:

"It's over. We know what you have, warned you against it. You won't live the night, Jolen. We're coming." It was unsigned. Their letters always were. After all, in an organization that dealt in high-profile secrets, what would it pay to reveal the greatest one of all? Jolen sighed. He knew what the letter said was true. He looked out the window; it was midmorning. There was time. Jolen took out a sheet of papers and a pencil; this would get out, his life's work would get out, no matter how they wanted it hidden. Resolutely, he started to write, pouring his thoughts out onto the paper. He explained everything, falling into a sort of trance as secret after secret spilled out, dark acts, hidden heroism, his own success, well, failure coming out. They wanted him and his secrets go to the grave...they would not. He read the letter triumphantly, grinning in spite of himself as he read the contents; however, his smile faded as he read the last line.

"They're coming. They always are." He frowned. He hadn't written that...had he? The sun was setting. Jolen whirled around, nearly bumping into the masked figure behind him. Jolen's eyes widened with fear.

"We came." It said. Everything went black.

Another one I wrote:

It was there. It was always there, in his peripheral vision. Those eyes...Zack snapped out of his reverie, looking down at the test in front of him. "How much of the brain's capacity is taken up by the sense of vision?" It asked. Vision. Eyes. Those eyes...a stark red against the faded white stone. They inched forward. Zack's eyes widened with horror. They never approached, just...stayed. Slowly-agonizingly slowly- they crept forward, a head starting to appear. It was a long, triangular shape, with slits for a nose and a row of sharp white teeth poking out of its mouth; It was covered in black scales. How could no one else see this? It was right there next to the window. Then, it dawned on Zack. A few kids were looking out the window; they were either all very good actors...or only Zack could see the thing. A body came into view, wickedly barbed claws moving silently on the wall. Zack jumped up, screaming in horror and running out of the room. It was there. The end of a tail slid into Zack's view, and the thing turned its head towards him. Zack stopped on the spot, rooted there in fear. It started to peelitself off the wall, the body eventually floating towards him. He gaped in horror as the thing continued on its course, stopping just in front of Zack's face. "Don't you see?" It hissed cryptically, "I am you." It continued, entering Zack's skull. There was a slight fuzzing, then nothing. Zack looked down, and gasped in horror. Black scales were starting to grow on his arm.

An older one:

The man groaned, head in his hands. He was sitting at his desk, contemplating. He had failed. Millions would die.

Millions more would live. There was a knock on the door. The man sighed, getting up and going to the door and unlocking it. A head peeked into the room. "Are you ready sir?" The man said. The first man glared. "No." He snapped, suddenly angry. "Go get me a glass of water Hobbes." Hobbes bowed, exiting the room. Why had it been him? Why couldn't someone else have taken his place? It had all started on that horrible day five years ago...

***

He stood over the body of his wife, holding her cold hand and weeping shamelessly. "I'm sorry, John." The attendant said, "There was nothing we could do." John nodded sadly. The attendant lifted up his clipboard, hesitating for a moment. "We do...however, have an...offer for you. It involves cancer." John looked up sharply. "I'll do it." He said. He would follow through with this, whatever it was. He would change the world.

***

John laughed bitterly. How right he had been, just in all the wrong ways. He could hear Hobbes coming back. He strengthened his resolve. He would follow through with this. He was ready.

Thanks for reading; I really just wanted to put my short stories that I write (randomly)out on the internet. Constructive criticism is appreciated, feel free to speak your thoughts on it.

Edited November 9, 2012 by Zenith