Welcome to the Wakefield Doctrine (the theory of clarks, scotts and rogers)
This is the Wakefield Doctrine’s contribution to the Unicorn Challenge bloghop.
As is incumbent upon us, this being Friday and all, we proffer a story from the picture that we saw. jenne and ceayr watch with evident glee and all the mad bloggers submit their tales to thee. yea celebrate, it’s the ‘hop that all await, the Unicorn Challenge photo prompt.
“Who’s there?”
The woman’s voice hesitated, the slightest up-lilt on the interrogative, a child’s invocation for the closet to be as empty as her parents promised. The scenery had, in some tectonic conspiracy, become a threatening vista. The moors’ rolling green looked mostly solid. The gurgling stream ran a parallel track and not, actually, a serpentine course. The mountains on the horizon seemed devoid of jagged cliffs, as clouds gathered like sentient tendrils to the foothills.
Awareness of her surroundings, because she’d stopped, reminded her how much she valued being away from overly-protective family; it was her favorite activity.
“God, please don’t deprive me this time wandering these hills.” As alone as she was, the old woman kept her prayer silent.
Gazing downwards, a slight cold bubbled somewhere between her belt and her heart.
Her new walking sticks had a pleasant …balance; the rawhide straps, lined with suede, held her wrists in a friend’s embrace. The ends of the rods, upon attaining optimal extension, pulled her along. Ever so slightly.
Suddenly, the stick in her left hand slipped backwards. However, as the inspired design and balance dictated, the right side moved forward in counter-balance, saving her from a fall.
The chill within began to crystallize as the temporary imbalance resulted in her taking a step further along the road. The friend’s grasp of the wrist straps tightened. She stepped another step along the road, discovering something worse than falling to the pavement… walking into the fog that waited patiently. Endlessly.
About clarkscottroger
Very well told.
Thank you, M
This part of the first sentence “…a child’s invocation for the closet to be as empty as her parents promised.” This gives the reader a clear sense of the woman’s fear. Does she have a sense of what occurred, what awaits her?
I’m thinking on some level she does.
Good ‘Corn.
thanky
To this “… a slight cold bubbled somewhere between her belt and her heart.” my reaction is This is fear. Perfectly expressed.
ty m
Well, well, Clark, a masterfully told horror story, totally unexpected.
The tiny hints sprinkled throughout lead to a compelling climax with that single-word last sentence.
Chapeau.
thanks, c (was a struggle, going from initial impression to ‘beginning, middle, end, but worth it
This story is set within fear, Clark – the opening sentence, the ‘up-lilt on the interrogative’ and best of all, ‘a child’s invocation for the closet to be as empty as her parents promised’.
And yet you carry the story along with hope and determination in the MC’s heart…
Right until the chill of the final horror.
And the rawhide straps function in turning the narrative is great.
Excellent story.
A chilling tale indeed, you took us into her mind then abandoned us in the mist.