Tell A Tale — Gothic Fiction
Goodnight Mama By Jennie Homer
“Goodnight Katie, sleep tight baby girl” Sally placed her bundle of love into the wooden cot. Sneaking out of the room Sally stopped,
“The baby com.” Sally switched the monitor on, she took another quick glance at her daughter who was fast asleep. Sally felt lucky to have a daughter, she never believed she would have such a precious gift, due to an event that happened one hundred years ago.
Staring at her complexion all she could see was a cold and pale individual stare back, a monster?
Still she mustn’t dwindle in the past. A nice soak in the bath to sweep away her thoughts is just what she needed on this cold and snowy night.
Sally soon drifted off to sleep, the candles flickered in the bathroom, her body enjoying the hot bubbles. Stillness was all she could hear.
Sally’s heart leapt from her chest, she heard thundering knocks belting on the front door. She felt her soul shiver. Creeping downstairs Sally’s heart was in her mouth; her tongue was dry. With a trembling hand she opened her door. Sally looked ahead but saw nothing not even a light from a street lamp. The snow formed a mist of flakes as they fell from the ebony sky. Sally straightened herself in her bath robe “Maybe a dream?” Once again, Sally settled in her bath. She could no longer relax; her thoughts were quivering in her mind. Closing her eyes, she took a breath of respite, only to be heavily roused by the dreaded knocks once more, this time she felt her whole house physically shake from the horrific noise. “Why is this happening once again.” Sally whispered, she went downstairs, shocked for the door was already open. She spied hoof prints making their way into her home, Sally began to whimper “I know it is you. I now know it is you.” She was scared,
“I cannot help you this time. Please leave me be.” Sally heard Katie cry, racing up the stairs she stopped, the door was shut. Using all of her strength she could not open it. “Please Sorka...please not my baby.” Sally begged. The door opened, floating in the air was the terrifying demon Sorka who held Katie in a fiery hand, its hoofs covered in snow. “I beg you… I’m not ready.” The demon roared and Sally screamed, a blood curdling scream as her body twisted and churned, her bones were burning, her soul leaving its rightful haven, her last memory was Katie (only 4 months old but whispering in a demonic tone)
All was quiet nothing was heard, not even a mouse. A figure stood at the foot of the cot, singing a sweet lullaby to baby Katie who was sound asleep. The voice was Sally’s, the face was Sally’s but the red eyes and hoofs did not belong to Sally.
Jennie E Homer
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