Tell A Tale — Gothic Fiction

Helena By Rebecca Ann Barnes

I started as the thunder echoed through the decaying hotel. Flashes of lightning pierced the caked grime of the ninth floor windows, lighting up the ugly hall. Mould mushroomed through the walls, peeling off the dirty wallpaper.

I stand in front of the elevator doors. Fear squeezes my chest and a musty smell invades my nostrils. I must be brave. It is time to stop a killer. I sense the danger, an unseen darkness lingers near.

Its arrival is signalled with a rusty creak as the doors slowly, slide open.

My gaze lifts and I see her. She calls herself Helena. A black wave of terror washes over me. I want to scream but instead make my face expressionless. She must not sense my fear.

I force myself to walk forward and the elevator doors close behind me.

I stare at her and her smooth, black waves that tumble down her slim shoulders to her waist. Deceptive green eyes framed with dark lashes look back at me and my eyes move down to her red painted lips.

I despise her. I know her for who she is. A monster.

Recognition lights in her eyes. A cruel smile pulls at her ruby lips.

The elevator judders down past floors eight then seven.

Those perfectly manicured hands are instruments of death. Oh yes. They know many excruciating means for guiding a soul from this life into the next. How were they so clean after having been steeped in so much blood?

I stand straight, resolutely not looking at that petite frame in a figure hugging, black dress.

My palms feel sore, the nails have bitten into the flesh.

We pass floor six, five…It is time to take control.

I lunge for the demon. Helena moves with lightning speed and grabs the top of my arms and pushes me hard. My skull cracks as it connects with the metal wall.

I reach back and tangle my hands in her raven hair and pull hard. Helena’s grip loosens for a moment and I bring my knee up into her stomach.

‘Ah.’ Helena screams, her beautiful face transforms with rage.

Her hands move and grip my throat. She begins to squeeze and black spots dance in front of my eyes. The world takes on a grey quality.

‘You have always been weak,’ Helena hisses into my ear. ‘Always interfering. Time for me to be in charge. Permanently’

‘No!’ I try to shout but it comes out as a breathless rasp. She is too strong!

Green eyes shrink into glittering slits and the red lips curl into a snarl. She squeezes harder.

The grey becomes black and I feel myself begin to disappear.

Ground floor. The elevator door opens with a screech.

The ancient concierge looks at me. ‘Evening, Miss.’

‘Evening,’ I replied as I smoothed down my long, black waves and checked my red lipstick in the mirror.

‘Funny, I thought I heard voices.’

‘No, there’s only me.’ I smile at my reflection.

see more submissions for the Tell A Tale — Gothic Fiction click here