Published January 4, 2008
“Hey, baby,” the woman called as Ian entered the house.
“Hey,” he said, moving into the lounge where she sat and shrugging his coat onto a chair. He pecked her on the lips and sat down, sighing.
“Big day again?”
“What do you think?” he asked, massaging his brow.
“I was just asking,” she said.
“Well, you know what I’ve told you about stupid questions.”
Karen looked down to her arms, which were folded in her lap. “I - I’m sorry,” she said.
When she managed to look up again, he was silent. The gaze of his beady eyes didn’t waver. “Please,” she said. “Say something.”
He didn’t move; didn’t make a sound. “I’m going to go make some coffee,” she said, and stood. She walked quickly, and kept her hands clenched by her sides. When she went to the kitchen, she turned the kettle on. As she found a cup and began to gather things, she started to hum under her breath.
The kettle began to whistle and she took it off its stand. She poured water into the cup then moved to put it back. As she did, one of her fingers brushed the kettle’s side. “Bastard!” she said, and put the finger in her mouth. She ran her hand under cold water, letting her breath whistle out through gritted teeth.
When the pain subsided, she finished making the coffee and carried it to him. “Here you go,” she said.
He looked up and took the cup of coffee from her. Outside, birds chirped in the trees, even under the cover of darkness, and Karen shuddered. She could feel the beginnings of a migraine behind her eyes.
“You forgot the sugar.” His voice was flat.
“What?”
“You forgot the sugar.” Ian stood, and Karen took a corresponding step backwards.
“No, I can’t have. I’m sure I didn’t. I’ll go back and make you another cup, okay?”
He didn’t answer. “Ian, you’re scaring me.” She felt behind her for the door. With a violent jerk, he threw the cup at her.
It shot past and smashed on the wall. He stood and punched her. Screaming, she fell to the ground. He silenced her with a kick to the ribs. She began to gasp for air, and he lashed out once more. Once, her eyes fluttered open, but then she was still.
Ian knew that she was still breathing by the rise and fall of her chest. He bent down and dragged her to their room. Grunting, he hoisted her onto one side of the bed.
Now that’s sorted, he thought. A sudden weariness came over him, and his vision swam. He undressed, got into bed and drifted away.
When he woke, there was a slight pain in his chest. It didn’t hurt very much, but the throbbing had been enough to wake him. He looked over to the clock. 6:59, the flashing red light said.
Ian groaned. It was a Saturday, and he didn’t have work. He had been planning to sleep until at least ten. Oh well, he thought. If I’m gonna be awake the least she can do is get up as well.
He turned and groped for her shoulder. His hands caught nothing but air, and he sat up, reaching out. She wasn’t there.
Ian looked back to the clock. 6:60, it now read. A shiver ran down his spine. Someone was walking on his grave, as his mother would have said.
He got out of bed and hit the clock, making sure not to break it. Nothing happened. He rolled his eyes, and moved to turn the light on. It dazzled him for a few seconds, but he kept blinking until he could see, and walked back to the clock.
It didn’t look damaged. This thing’s only a couple of weeks old! he thought. Budget piece of shit.
He leaned down and turned the clock off at the wall. After waiting several seconds, he flicked the switch again.
When he looked back to the number, tendrils of fear began to caress his heart. Instead of resetting to 12:00 as it should have, the time had stayed almost the same. 6:61.
“Oh, God,” he said. “What’s happening?”
Karen, was the first thought that came to mind. Where is she? This must be her fault. I bet she’s watching me right now.
He cracked his knuckles. “Where are you, you bitch?”
He ran to the wardrobe and pulled the door open. There was nothing in there, but he thought he saw a slight movement. “It’s all right, just calm down. There’s nothing wrong. The clock’s probably just broken. Go back to sleep, and when you wake up, you can take it back. Then you can find Karen, okay? Sound good? Good. There’s nothing wrong. Just go to sleep.”
Ian turned the light off again, and got back under his duvet. He turned to one side so he couldn’t see the clock. Closing his eyes, he controlled his breathing, and tried to sleep again.
Just as he was starting to feel his eyelids droop, a huge crash shook the house. Reverberating echoes shook the room as ornaments fell from their shelves. “Shit,” he said, and stood once more.
6:63
She wasn’t there. She wasn’t anywhere. Karen had left. And by the sounds of it, something was rattling against the outside windows. It sounded like scores of people tapping, all in unison, begging to be let in. The rattling had stopped, but the tapping was constant.
Ian moved into the kitchen, and froze in the doorway. The clock on the oven seemed to be broken as well.
6:64
As the clock changed, the tapping changed into a knock, and the moaning began. They were the moans of a multitude.
Against his own will, Ian moved to the window. He threw the curtains back, and screamed.
The outside world was almost obscured by a wall of faces. They were all a deathly grey colour, as if the life had been sucked from them. The one vivid colour was red; the red of blood. Liberal splashes of it covered them, and Ian could see why. The army were missing arms, legs, even heads.
Beyond the bodies, he could see flames. The horizon was burning, the neighbour’s houses were burning. The world was burning. Turning back to the kitchen, he saw the oven’s clock once more.
6:65
Another inarticulate scream escaped him. He pulled the curtains shut so he couldn’t see the people any more. Their moans were still an overwhelming chorus, and Ian joined his with theirs. Falling to the ground, he retched. His heart palpitated wildly.
The Day of Reckoning. The words ran through his head in an endless chant while he watched the clock, feeling the seconds drag by. Finally, it came.
6:66
At the second the minute changed, there was a knock at the front door. Ian heard it over all the other noise, and walked towards it. His head hung in resignation.
He opened the door. There was a pause, and then a sharp intake of breath. “Dad?” Ian smiled, and stepped out of the house.
The screams began a moment later.
Karen woke to light shining through the windows. She looked over to the other side of the bed to see Ian with his eyes wide open and staring. His hand was pressed against his chest.
She put a hand to her jaw and winced. Her ribs still throbbed, and it felt as if one might be broken.
She got out of bed and stood over him. After checking his pulse, she let the arm fall limply to his side. She spoke in a wheeze. “I won, you son of a bitch. I beat you. All it took was a sip of coffee. Who knew that one pill could be that strong? If I’d realised before, I’d have done it a long time ago.” She laughed. “But now you’re rotting in Hell.”
Karen gathered her things, and left.
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139,456 Literary Works • 672,565 Reviews
The title really intrigued me. I was just looking for something to read...
I hate that number and all that is Evil.
Anyways...
"So violent!"
That was the first comment I had in mind when I read the part when Ian began hitting Karen. And just like what chocoholic said, the story seemed to be nothing evil until the time when Ian threw that cup of coffee at her (which missed, hehe). I was really surprised at that part! It seemed that I had this question in mind that "Why would he do that?"
...But in the end, I find this to be really creepy and scary...
Ooh...
I don't know if I can continue reading this series. It was really creepy...
As much as it creeped me out; I really liked how you changed the numbers on the clock until it reached the Devil's Number. My only problem really is; you've made it out to seem that he's a late riser, it didn't take him long to realise that 60 is not supposed to come after 59...
Maybe it's just me
“Hey, baby,” the woman called as Ian entered the house.
“Hey,” he said, moving into the lounge where she sat and shrugging his coat onto a chair. He pecked her on the lips and sat down, sighing.
“Big day again?”
“What do you think?” he asked, massaging his brow.
“I was just asking,” she said.
“Well, you know what I’ve told you about stupid questions.”
Karen looked down to her arms, which were folded in her lap. “I - I’m sorry,” she said.
When she managed to look up again, he was silent. The gaze of his beady eyes didn’t waver. “Please,” she said. “Say something.”
I love this intro. Right away we can see something is wrong, but you don’t try to tell us what or make things overly dramatic XD
He didn’t move; didn’t make a sound. “I’m going to go make some coffee,” she said, and stood. She walked quickly, and kept her hands clenched by her sides. When she went to the kitchen, she turned the kettle on. As she found a cup and began to gather things, she began to hum under her breath.
The kettle began to whistle and she took it off its stand. She poured water into the cup then moved to put it back. As she did, one of her fingers brushed the kettle’s side. “Bastard!” she said, and put the finger in her mouth. She ran her hand under cold water, letting her breath whistle out through gritted teeth.
You might want to use another word instead of “began” – having it twice so close together is jarring. I like the incident with the kettle. It adds realism
When the pain subsided, she finished making the coffee and carried it to him. “Here you go,” she said.
He looked up and took the cup of coffee from her. Outside, birds chirped in the trees, even under the cover of darkness, and Karen shuddered. She could feel the beginnings of a migraine behind her eyes.
“You forgot the sugar.” His voice was flat.
“What?”
“You forgot the sugar.” Ian stood, and Karen took a corresponding step backwards.
“No, I can’t have. I’m sure I didn't. I’ll go back and make you another cup, okay? Ian, you’re scaring me.
I think this needs to be drawn out a little more. Perhaps you could close the dialogue at “okay?” and have Ian not answering, and Karen saying “Ian, you’re scaring me!” then feeling for the door. It just seems a little bit rushed from “I’ll make you another cup” to “you’re scaring me.”
Ian didn’t answer. Karen reached behind her, feeling for the door. With a violent jerk, he threw the cup at her.
It shot past and smashed on the wall. Ian punched her and she fell to the ground, screaming. He silenced her with a kick to the ribs. She began to gasp for air, and he lashed out once more. Her eyes fluttered closed, and didn’t open again.
I got the impression that Ian was sitting down, so it seems off that all of a sudden he’s up and punching Karen. Perhaps you could mention that he gets to his feet between the coffee cup and the punching. Also, your sentence structure seems slightly mechanical here – I think it’s because it always starts in the same way. Try varying the first word in one or two sentences here.
Ian knew that she was still breathing by the rise and fall of her chest. He bent down and dragged her to their room. Grunting, he hoisted her onto one side of the bed.
Now that’s sorted, he thought. A sudden weariness came over him, and his vision swam. He undressed, and got into his bed. No thoughts anchored his soul to the place of the living; he drifted away.
Now that I reread that last line, it seems a little too obvious. Perhaps you could pare it down – even just “he drifted away” might work.
When he woke, there was a slight pain in his chest. It didn’t hurt very much, but the throbbing had been enough to wake him. He looked over to the clock. 6:59, the flashing red light said.
Ian groaned. It was a Saturday, and he didn’t have work. He had been planning to sleep until at least ten. Oh well, he thought. If I’m gonna be awake the least she can do is get up as well.
He turned over to face her and groped for her shoulder. His hands caught nothing but air, and he sat up, reaching his hands out. She wasn’t there.
Might be better here if you said “He felt nothing but air” or “He caught at nothing but air” to avoid the repetition of “hands.”
Ian looked back to the clock. 6:60, it now read. A shiver ran down his spine. Someone was walking on his grave, as his mother had said.
“As his mother would have said” sounds better, IMHO.
He got out of bed and hit the clock, making sure not to break it. Nothing happened. He rolled his eyes, and moved to turn the light on. It dazzled him for a few seconds, but he kept blinking until he could see, and walked back to the clock.
It didn’t look damaged. This thing’s only a couple of weeks old! he thought. Budget piece of shit.
He leaned down and turned the clock off at the wall. After waiting several seconds, he flicked the switch again.
When he looked back to the number, tendrils of fear began to caress his heart. Instead of resetting to 12:00 as it should have, the time had stayed almost the same. 6:61.
“Oh, God,” he said. “What’s happening?”
Karen, was the first thought that came to mind. Where is she? This must be her fault. I bet she’s watching me right now.
I LOVE this bit. Great insight into his mind.
He cracked his knuckles. “Where are you, you bitch?”
He ran to the wardrobe and pulled the door open. There was nothing in there, but he thought he saw a slight movement. “It’s all right, just calm down. There’s nothing wrong. The clock’s probably just broken. Go back to sleep, and when you wake up, you can take it back. Then you can find Karen, okay? That sound good? Good. There’s nothing wrong. Just go to sleep.”
Ian turned the light off again, and got back under his duvet. He turned to one side so he couldn’t see the clock. Closing his eyes, he controlled his breathing, and tried to sleep again.
Just as he was starting to feel his eyelids droop, a huge crash shook the house. Reverberating echoes shook the room as ornaments fell from their shelves. “Shit,” he said, and stood once more.
6:63
He began to roam the house. Once, he stood on a piece of glass from a broken ornament, but he didn’t pay any attention to it.
I’m assuming you’re going to remove that part, like you said? So I wont comment XD
She wasn’t there. She wasn’t anywhere. Karen had left. And by the sounds of it, something was rattling against the outside windows. It sounded like scores of people tapping, all in unison, begging to be let in. The rattling had stopped, but the tapping was constant.
Ian moved into the kitchen, and froze in the doorway. The clock on the oven seemed to be broken as well.
6:64
“No, no, no! Oh God, what’s happening? Somebody help me! Somebody please help me!”
He seems to jump into absolute-panic mode a little quickly. Perhaps move the “Somebody help me” to when he sees what’s outside XD
At his words, the tapping changed into a knock, and the moaning began. They were the moans of a multitude.
Against his own will, Ian moved to the window. He threw the curtains back, and screamed.
The outside world was almost obscured by a wall of faces. They were all a deathly grey colour, as if the life had been sucked from them. The one vivid colour was red; the red of blood. Liberal splashes of it covered them, and Ian could see why. The army were missing arms, legs, even heads.
Not sure whether this should be “The army was.” *picks at the word irritably*
What he could see past the bodies were flames. The horizon was burning, the neighbour’s houses were burning. The world was burning. Turning back to the kitchen, he saw the oven’s clock once more.
6:65
That first sentence there needs to be better worded. Maybe something like, “Beyond the bodies, he could see flames.” It sounds awkward as it is.
An inarticulate scream escaped him. He pulled the curtains shut so he couldn’t see the people any more. Their moans were still an overwhelming chorus, and Ian joined his with theirs. Falling to the ground, he retched. His heart palpitated wildly.
Maybe “Another inarticulate sceam”?
The Day of Reckoning. The words ran through his head in an endless chant while he watched the clock, feeling the seconds drag by. Finally, it came.
6:66
At the second the minute changed, there was a knock at the front door. Ian heard it over all the other noise, and walked towards it. His head hung in resignation.
He opened the door. There was a pause, and then a sharp intake of breath. “Dad?” Ian smiled, and stepped out of the house. The screams began a moment later.
This seems to move too quickly. Perhaps put it on a new line, for emphasis. I also think there should be a double space between this part and Karen’s awakening.
Karen woke to light shining through the windows. She looked over to the other side of the bed to see Ian with his eyes wide open and staring. His hand was pressed against his chest.
She put a hand to her jaw and winced. Her ribs still throbbed, and it felt as if one might be broken.
She got out of bed and stood over him. After checking his pulse, she let the arm fall limply to his side. She spoke in a wheeze. “I won, you son of a bitch. I beat you. All it took was a sip of coffee. Who knew that just one pill could be that strong? Hell, if I had, I’d have done it a long time ago.” She laughed. “But now you’re rotting in Hell.”
Karen gathered her things, and left.
That last line of dialogue also seems a little awkward. Possibly rephrase to “Hell, if I’d realized that before, I’d have done it a long time ago.” The “if I had” seems disconnected somehow.
Overall, exceedingly creepy as usual XD Good luck with it!
Cheers,
~bubbles
Hey, Insomnia! Very cool, gruesome piece, and a nice change from some of the other stuff I've been reading lately.
Somehow, I think this would do better if you combined the two sentences: "I beat you, and all it took was a sip of [s]that[/s] coffee." I just think it adds to the ironic feel.
That should be began.
Besides that I didn't find any grammatical errors. Kudos!
I agree with Squallz, though. You could use some more imagery at the beginning. It's kind of hard to picture the house. Also, you definitely need to flesh out Ian. You did a good job of making him the antagonist. I mean, he's easy to hate. He's an evil guy. But I think you would do well to insert more of his emotions, instead of just characterizing him with his thoughts and dialogue. I think this would be good for two reasons. First, it would help you show more, instead of just telling. Second, it would give Ian a sense of motivation. Even an evil guy needs a reason for his abuse. Maybe show him feeling disgusted with Karen's "stupidity" for example? I dunno. You have some fun with him.
This was cool to read, and a nice, kind of horrific piece.
Hope this helps,
Haley
Okay, it seems the nit picking has been done for me, so I'll just look at the content, eh?
The biginning was good, she truely seems scared and intimidated, which was obviously what you were going for.
The ornament thing seems redundant as it it. Maybe you were trying to portray his frame of mind? Expand a little- talk about the pain, maybe he winced, but carried on regardless.
Good description, sounds delightfully gruesome. But personally, I would want to throw up at this point. Apart from screaming, we don't know how Ian reacted. Was he feeling sick? Denial?
All of a sudden he goes from terror to calm acceptance. How? Why? Expand on his feelings- He may have come to acceptance, But I have to just assume that.
The ending was unexpected. Even to you, from what I hear. But it works
Overall, It wasn't my favorite piece of writing you have done, but it was still good. An imaginative way to describe the death of somebody going to hell, indeed.
Hey Mat. This was actually quite clever in how you've portrayed Ian's passing into death. Now for the critique.
1. No comma in front of "walked".
2. Why was she shaking? You need to show the reasons as to why she is doing it.
No comma in front of "whistle".
No comma in front of "cup".
"To", not "into".
For the second half of the dialogue, there needs to be more development behind it. It feels a bit out of place. I know it carries to the following sentence, but I felt it can be more strongly established.
Sail seems kinda soft don't you think? Try using "soar" or "sped".
No comma in front of "bedroom".
It gets old trying to portray his thoughts with this technique. I think you can somehow show this and work it with your story.
Needs further elaboration and more established relevance with the plot. It feels randomly placed.
No comma in front of "bed".
No comma in front of the word "side".
Can you be more specific as to what the "things" are?
Overall impressions:
I like the idea behind this, but the way in which you wrote this was somewhat lacking (I know that it is only a draft lol)
Ok. Firstly, elaborate on certain scenes and ideas further. There were some places where I think more can be explained and shown to bring out the greater signifiance.
Secondly, descriptions and imagery. I think in the first half of your story, there needs to be more descriptions and imagery to make us feel more immersed with the story. I just couldn't picture the house that easily. This then follows on to my third point, characterization.
I think you can flesh out your characters a bit more. They seem a little stale at the moment. Try to link the characters with the descriptions. This will show more about them as a character.
Fourth point: Dialogue. The dialogue seems a bit cheesy and a bit unrealistic. I think you can make it more creative and convicing to bring out the suspense in the situation.
I think that's pretty much I have to say. Overall, it was ok.
Hope this critique helped.
Andy.
Alright, but you didn't mention him turning off and on again, unless I missed something.
Apart from that it seems sound.
I edited most of the stuff you said, except for one thing.
Okay, this bit annoyed me. Shouldn't it hvae gone to 7?
On the clock I have, when you turns it off and then back on, it reverts back to the first minute of the day, 12:00. So... yeah.
Okay, that was really, really, really creepy. But quite good. Apart from scaring me half to death, I really liked it.
This was a good opening. At first, it's like they ahve a happy, normal marriage, but then the truth comes out and we start to see the problems. I do think, however, that it could use more description.
When you say 'silver side', are you referring to the cup of the kettle? It was confusing.
You repeated Ian here, and it didn't flow well. Perhaps, 'he silenced her', or 'she was silenced with'.
Okay, this bit annoyed me. Shouldn't it hvae gone to 7?
okay
That's all I could find that I have to comment on. But this was reall, really scary.