RFR Short Story Winner: The Darkness by Deby Feeley

by: RFR Casket Crew Denise

Greeting Deadites,

It’s time to reveal the big secret. I’ve been bringing you reviews of the latest horror, suspense and supernatural thrillers from some of our generations best authors. But this time I thought I would switch it up a little. So, this time I will not be reviewing anything. This time I will be featuring a short story.

I went to the MySpace forums last week and issued a challenge to some of those who hang out in the Literature forum and who regularly have contest on their short stories. My challenge was to write a short horror story to be feature here at RFR. The winner of that contest was Deby Feeley.

Ironically Deby and I have been friends for some years. And no deadites, the contest was not rig because I asked for some outside help in judging the stories. Deby’s story was deemed to be the best.

Deby and I are ghoul friends; a title that Deby came up with. We hang out at each other’s house, watch horror movies and eat pizza. We’ve been doing this for years too, so we know our horror stories. So with permission from Deby, here is her short story. I hope you enjoy it as much as the judges did.

THE DARKNESS by Deby Feeley
“Oh, for God’s sake, here we go again!” I follow Miranda as she dashes into the dark closet, huddles in the back corner behind some old coats, and rocks her body back and forth in a twisted fetal position. She’s sobbing again, a habbit I find extremely disgusting. I let her gush for a moment and ask, “Are you quite finished?”

“Leave me alone, leave me alone. I just can’t do it anymore. Nobody loves me. I’m useless…why can’t I just die?” I can see her swollen face half covered with wet sticky hair reflected in an old mirror on the closet floor. It is eerily lit by the beam of light coming in through the open closet door.

Ahhhhhh, theatrics. I’m good at this game. “Well,” I tell her, “if you loose about 100 pounds and slap a little makeup on your face to cover those zits and run a brush through your hair, you might just be able to manage to get out there and DO something with your life you pig! How about it, eh? Just get off your FAT ASS, get out of this closet and GET A LIFE!!!”

Her sobs turn into high-pitched screams. “I hate you, I hate you, I HATE YOU!!!” she screams at me and I smile. Now we’re rolling. I bask in her anger and luxuriate in her confusion. I need her to need me. She needs me to always tell her the truth. Who else will? All of her friends lie to her. Her family is nothing but a pit of seething vipers, slithering around ready to strike. She wouldn’t know how to do anything if it weren’t for me. I am the one who puts up with her. I am the one who keeps her in her place…you’d think she might appreciate all I do for her but no. She’s yelling that she hates me again. I toss a knife down between her feet. I know I’m playing with fire now, but we’ve been through this before. Just a little game of chicken to make her think a bit. No big deal.

Miranda stares at the knife, gently lifts it and makes a small cut from her thumb knuckle to her wrist. “Is this what you were hoping for?” she asks me. I can feel her demeanor shift to something that feels like defeat. She isn’t screaming any more, but she’s still huddled in the corner watching the pool of blood grow. I hear her praying for God to help her. She’s asking him why he’s letting her do this.

I roll my eyes. “God can’t hear you,” I whisper in her ear. “Do you think he’s going to listen to you as long as you keep me around?” I gently lift her hand to my mouth and suck the warm blood from the wound. It isn’t a fatal wound. She does this sometimes to balance out the pain or so I have heard her tell her doctor. She has said in the past that I’m dangerous for her, but here I am, helping her feel better. As long as she wants me with her, I will stay because I am her darkness and I will survive as long as she keeps feeding me.

The Rotting End

As I said, deadites, I really hope you enjoyed Deby’s story. And if you would like to have a short story feature here at RFR Podcast, please send me an e-mail at: denise @ rfrpodcast.com with the details. Until next time, sit back, relax and rot away.