Reality Hits, Literally


After the two young women were out of her house, Lucille collapses on the couch. The stale cookies still sit on the plate and the two cups of black coffee sit undisturbed, surely becoming sour.

The house is oddly quiet to her as she misses the sounds of the footsteps of her family. She had sent Luke and Lisa to her mother's place in the city hoping that they would heal quicker there and without the constant worry of their own mother's sanity.

She hadn't told the two women that she had felt an odd presence in her home, but she has never been superstitious. She would rather spend restless nights wondering why God had been so cruel as to take her oldest daughter and her beloved husband than believe that something was just not right.

Suddenly, soft as the tinkling of bells, Lucille hears the shattering of some plates in her kitchen. She explains it away as simply curious mice, but her curiosity is deepened when the shattering does not stop after a few minutes.

Her feet slowly lead her to her clean kitchen and her heart begins to beat at an unfamiliar pace.

Putting one delicate hand on the wall she reaches around the corner and watches as her cabinets slowly open and the plates and glasses from within begin to tremble, much harder than the soft shattering she had heard in the living room. Before she can fully conceive what is happening, Hank's old favorite mug with the names of the whole family flies in her direction, hitting her hand as she shields herself.

Instantly there is blood and more plates and glasses begin to fly at her.

Lucille runs to the door and tries to open it to no avail; it is disturbingly locked from the outside. She turns around to see that several more household items are following her and she bends quickly as a butcher knife swerves to hit her, but instead sticks with a sickening thwack in the heavy wood of the door. 

Bending into a crawling position, Lucille crawls down the hallway avoiding more flying objects and she cries in desperation when she finds the calling card that the blond had thrown into her house before being out of Lucille's sight.

She grabs her cell phone out of her pocket and begins dialing the number, praying that all of their meeting had in fact, not been a prank.

"Hello?" A voice answers, suspiciously.

"Please, it's Lucille,"

"What's wrong?" The girl's tone has changed, she sounds as if she is moving, and Lucille can hear the rustling of clothes and a car door being shut.

"You were right, something is in here, please—" the phone dies in her hands, the battery has been drained.

A bright light starts to shine behind her and Lucille turns around to face the vision before her. "Oh God," she whispers.

"Hi mommy," the little girl hisses, her black lips curl up in a demonic smile and her red eyes bleed as she floats towards the frozen Lucille.



The End

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