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Rated: E · Short Story · Mystery · #1340791
A short horror/mystery story about a boy, and the mysterious reflection in a black window.
The black window

Dust flew through the air hurting Luke's eyes. The sweltering heat wave had forced him under the trees and he sulked as he watched his friends kicking the football across the tarmac. Apparently the area he lived in now, had been a wood with a huge mansion but there had been a forest fire and all of it had been destroyed replaced by this desert wasteland. The only thing that remained of the house was the black window. The eerie translucent object hung in the air, held by a thread to an iron pole. Many stories surrounded the window and one was almost always the first story told on campfire night.
         Curiousity got the better of Luke and he walked through the heated game like he was hypnotised, his gaze unmoving. Across the pitch, people were yelling at him, distracting the goaly or something but he barely heard them. Staring through the window, his gaze burning through the glass, his hand rose without warning to feel the warm glass, but when his hand touched the strange object it felt like it was freezing. It was almost painfully cold but Luke was in a trance. The Window tilted in his hand and a figure stared out at him from the glass. The woman wore a smile, but her eyes showed that she wasn't happy. The icy eyes were twisted and tortured. She looked young but her face was gaunt and deep wrinkles gouged her chalk white skin. Her black hair hung down to her shoulders and the clothes she wore were old fashioned to say the least. Dumbstruck, Luke stared into her eyes, when suddenly her expression exploded with anger, saddness, and sorrow. Blue flames gleamed in her eyes, and the heat forced her to sweat. Razor sharp teeth showed, as she grinned, laughing with malice, and insanity. Before he knew what had happened, Luke's hand exploded and became a bloody mess. Falling to the ground, shards of black glass impaled him. Unable to breathe, his face twisted in pain, he fell into the darkness letting it swallow him.
         Bright lights flashed around him and he sat up slowly. Back aching, hand throbbing, head being ripped apart in pain, Luke struggled to understand where he was, when his mothers words exploded in his ear and he could hear the venom in every letter.
         "What the hell where you thinking, I mean are you mad? Punching a pane of glass for no reason? You are so lucky that there won't be any permanant scarring!" the ranting carried on, and Luke just switched his ears off. Really he didn't understand it himself. What had come over him to make him do that? He studied his hand, it was a mess of dried blood and stitches until the elbow where he could see his olive brown skin.
         Back at home, Luke just sat in front of the television trying to push the window out of his mind, but it was impossible. Something, anything to get this out of his mind.
         "Mum where's my football?" Luke called upstairs.
         "I don't know, one of your friends probably picked it up!" It was obvious from her tone, she was still angry, but he couldn't blame her. Luke couldn't explain why, but he hated talking to people over the phone so he looked over to the field to see his ball sitting in the middle of the deserted field, rolling a little in the cold wind. Quickly Luke slipped on his coat, and was out of the door. As he walked accross the field, the wind stopped but still the weather was icy and he could see his breath rise in big plumes curling up into the night air. The half moon peered out from a cloud and he heard howling nearby. Shivers ran up Luke's spine and he walked faster. Suddenly the street lights went out. He was alone, lost in the pitch black night. Almost sprinting now, Luke crouched down to take the ball. A foot stepped out of nowhere and stood on Luke's hand. It was the woman. A malevolent grin stretched across her features and fire danced in her eyes.
         "Thank you for letting me free. I'll make it so you will never escape!" Every sylable dripped with cold laughter and malice. A flash of silver. A long scream. It was over. Luke barely saw the knife hit his chest. Rolling over, blood shot through the air and drummed against the ground. Evil droplets of scarlet pain. Letting out a final scream Luke fell back into the darkness forever.
          Now he whimpers staring through a shard of black glass.
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