*mouth hangs open in astonishment*
Oh - my - GOSH... O.O This is SPECTACULAR. In a terrible, revolting, horrifying way, I love it.
*goes off to browse more of your horror writing, you brilliant writer, you*
I am trapped.
The thought twists through my head, weaving its fingers into my mind until the panic hits.
I am trapped. I am trapped. I am trapped.
He is coming.
The second thought hits like Zeus’ lightning bolt, charring what’s left of my sanity. If I were only trapped, I could die in somewhat of a peace, but he is coming. I hear his footsteps echo through the old house. He is stalking me. He is the hunter, and I am Bambi. I have no mother, no father, no anything to protect me.
He is coming.
The fireplace I am hiding behind has been long burnt out. He took all the warmth from this place. The picture frames have all been shattered, and their glass shards cut into my bare feet as I pull them closer to myself. He will hear.
He is coming.
He was a Romeo. Or at least, I thought he was. I had fallen for him so fast…
He was no Romeo.
The windows of this house are stained with my blood. The floors have sponged up his acts until all that is left was the sickly red stain that spread from the center rug.
The knives are scattered everywhere. He was never too careful with them, sure that I would be too weak to grab one. He has drained me. All that is left is a shell of a girl. He made sure I would never be the same. Every prick, every slicing pain has cut away a piece of me until I can’t even recognize my own reflection in the glass.
The glass stained with my blood.
His footsteps have paused. I breathe a shaky breath into the icy air and watch it disappear like Jacob’s ghost.
He will hear. He is coming.
My fingers are frozen, covered with my own blood. It drips to the floor in time with the clock, making no sound as it splashes away.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
I picked the perfect cabin for him. Secluded, desolate, old. The perfect site. I picked my grave. I should have picked better.
This was supposed to be our honeymoon. His only request was that I pick someplace we could be alone.
I should have seen it.
“Come out, girlie. Come to me. I won’t hurt you.”
I shudder at his words, but I begin to fall under their spell again. I don’t know why or how, but he has power over me.
My feet slide away from me of their own accord.
No! No! No! No!
Leave me alone!
I have to answer him. I can feel it. It will be worse if I don’t. Maybe after he’s had his fun he’ll let me go.
My toes smear the blood across the hardwood, mixing red with dried red, reminding me of pain.
My pain.
I stand, pushing away from the wall and towards him. One hand stays behind me, concealing something I forgot I had. He cannot see it. He cannot.
He cannot, he cannot, he cannot, he cannot.
Blood drips from it, too. My blood, never his. It will be his soon.
He sees me. His face breaks into the charm-boy smile that won me over so many months ago. Blond hair that is perfect, except for the blood that has matted it to his forehead.
“Mary,” he whispers. He is glad to see me.
He is my husband.
He is a murderer.
He is sick.
Something in me fights to see the good that must be there. He can still be my one true love. It is not too late.
He approaches me; I fight the urge to shy away. He brings his hands up to frame my face.
This is how it was supposed to be, I think.
His thumb brushes over the fresh scar on my neck. The scar he gave me. The scar that will forever steal the one thing I valued in this world: my voice.
He is a psychopath.
He cannot be my husband.
I pull the thing from behind my back, ready to end this with his blood on my hands. My fingers grip his hunting knife. His favorite knife, if I recall correctly.
It’s my favorite, too. It will end this.
It feels slick in my hands. Blood must be avenged. His blood for mine.
I plunge the knife as deep into his chest as I can, smile as his breath hitches. He underestimated me. I will win.
He slouches in my arms, and I let him drop to the floor.
His blood. His blood spreads, covering mine, erasing all that has happened here.
I move like a ghost to the door and pull on the handle that will let me loose from him.
I pull.
I pull harder.
I push.
It is locked.
I am trapped.
A groan sounds from behind me. The scrape of a knife against the floor sends me to my knees.
He is coming.
*mouth hangs open in astonishment*
Oh - my - GOSH... O.O This is SPECTACULAR. In a terrible, revolting, horrifying way, I love it.
*goes off to browse more of your horror writing, you brilliant writer, you*
Very very captivating and long. It had very much gripped me n kept me with chills in my spine. Perhaps give the ending a little more description I know its hard but it will improve the quality of your story. I think this story has great potential. All you need to do is add more imagery to the story. Solidity I guess.
Hello!!! Okay so I am now a big fan of this story, just have to say!!! I love the unknown to the beginning of this story, like you know what going on but at the same time you don't. It's very detailed out how you've put your victim character in the position she's in. It also shows some truth to how some out of control relationships are where one is the victim and the other is in control and for some reason the victim leave the relationship, whether it's because they love them or it's out of fear. I also like how you put the sudden twist in it. I mean come on, she stabbed him...IN THE CHEST!! And she still gets up and the chase starts over again. Just love it!!!
Hello there! I haven't seen a lot of your works, but I heard that you'd written a horror story and I had to come. I just had to come! 
Well, Wallflower, this is Magenta if you haven't seen and I am here to review your short story, Trapped.
"I am trapped. I am trapped. I am trapped." I see that you deliberately italicized this so that it showed her thoughts and so that it added emphasis, but I feel like you weakened the emphasis on this bit with the repetition. It doesn't sound as if she is really scared but is just nervous. She should be terrified. You have your story spread so far apart with the line spacing. I think you could have it closer together. It just looks like you have sentence and you go on to the next line instead of continue on that one. It's probably just me, but I think you could make the sentences on the same line.
" If I were only trapped, I could die in somewhat of a peace, but he is coming.' Wait, I thought that you just said that you were trapped. Now you;re saying that you're not. Which one is it?
"It drips to the floor in time with the clock, making no sound as it splashes away." Wouldn't a splash make a sound? Anyway, I think that you have a great story. I love how you developed the predator and prey. "He is a murderer."
"It is not too late." I think that this would sound better if you had it as "it's". The contraction seems to fit here better than having the two words.
"I plunge the knife as deep into his chest as I can, smile as his breath hitches. He underestimated me. I will win."
I think that instead of a comma, you should have a semicolon here because that makes it a part of fragment.
I think that the only thing that you need to work on here is the fear. You need an element of surprise and some hunting and some emotion in Mary. Great job, however, with this! Keep on writing.
~ Magenta
Ermahgerd.
You did not just...
Omg you did.
YOU JUST WROTE THE MOST PERFECT HORROR SHORT STORY EVER! Seriously, My horror bestie, @Kevikur better read this. If not, I'll PM him the link.
I don't think I have anything bad to say about this. Actually, I have one nitpick. You do a lot of lines that are just there. Try conjoining lines into paragraphs just a teeny bit more (not too much though) because it will help the flow of your story.
I loved your description, and I loved the twist of your ending. At first, I thought it was a happy ending and I was thinking:
"Dude, not cool. For a piece this short, you can't have an ending like that. It just doesn't work."
And then you did this fabulous twist! Which was amazing! It wasn't scary so much as it was a thriller type thing. Idk. I wasn't scared, but it is horror genre-ish.
Anyway, great job. Keep writing!
-Gravity
Hi hi,
So first things first: you have quite a beautiful sense of phrasing, and the story is quite gripping. However, I think the main problem with the story lies in its narrative flow and the imagery you used, which wasn't very inventive. Kudos to you though, horror is an extremely tough genre to tackle. I think you should read some classics (Stoker's Dracula, Shelley's Frankenstein - though old and thought of as cliches, they are a must-read to see how horror writing can be executed with surgical precision).
I'll give you a few examples of what I mean about narrative flow and imagery:
The thought twists through my head, weaving its fingers into my mind until the panic hits.
The second thought hits like Zeus’ lightning bolt,
My toes smear the blood across the hardwood, mixing red with dried red,
Hey there!
Laura here to review!!
I just want to start out that this was a great story and it kinda freaked me out o.O
I couldn't really find anything wrong with this story. The grammar was good, and there was good detail in this. I would like to know more about her, but I think for how you wrote this story, you didn't need it.
I like how you used repetition. It gave a very good effect.
So thank you for writing a fantastic story. I really enjoyed it.
~Laura~
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