Never Fear by F. Paul Wilson

Author:F. Paul Wilson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: horror anthology short story, scary short stories tales of horror night terrors fear of the unknown dark side bizarre twists of fate, short horror story collection, horror and suspense, antholgy collection
Publisher: 13Thirty Books

***

Like the day before, the sun was setting as Joseph pulled up to the front of the house. But unlike yesterday, William did not wait on the porch for me. And I felt no hopefulness or pleasure. I felt nothing.

I accepted Joseph’s offered arm as I stepped down from the carriage, feeling like my knees might buckle from underneath me. Once on the ground, I stood looking at Chadwick Plantation for a long time. I loved this place from the very first time I saw it. Those majestic columns, that beautiful second-floor gallery where I could see myself drinking sweet tea and enjoying the evening breeze. My children playing hide and seek among the magnolia trees. William at my side.

I had seen this glorious place and I had wanted it. All of it.

I stood there for a long time. How long I was not sure. Until the light faded and the evening air was filled with sounds of crickets and frogs and other night creatures. Finally I stumbled into the house, heading up the stairs and straight into my bedroom.

I undressed, getting myself into my nightgown. Then I crawled into bed, my knees pulled tight to my chest. My forehead resting on them, I prayed. Prayed for forgiveness. Prayed for redemption.

I must have fallen asleep, or maybe I'd fallen into some sort of trance, but when I became aware again, I heard my name.

"Elizzzabeeeth."

I lifted my head and saw her standing there. The room was dark, but the light of the moon through my open window allowed me to see her. She stood beside the same window. I could see her long, dark hair, caked with dirt, hanging in her face. I could see her gown, once beautiful, now tattered and stained. She tilted her head at an angle, studying me back. Her eyes, once so blue, shone glittering black in the moonlight. And her smile, once her prettiest feature, was spread unusually wide, her white teeth jagged.

"Elizzzabeeeth."

I didn't move. I didn't scream.

She moved toward me, this time not swiftly, but in stiff, jerky movements. I could hear her bare feet on the floor, dragging, shuffling.

Fear made it impossible to breathe, but still I did not move, aside to clutch the object in my hand tighter. Not the gris gris this time. But the ring. My mother's ring. Anna's ring.

She continued her shuddering walk until she was beside my bed. Beside me. Her eyes empty and black. That eerie smile pasted on her once perfect lips.

I forced myself to remain rooted to the bed. Then I mustered the courage to lift my hand toward her and uncurl my fingers. The ring twinkled in the moonlight.

Her dead stare left me and moved to the ring. With icy-cold fingers, darkened with dirt and mud, she took the ring out of my palm.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, the terrified words coming out as nothing more than croak. "I'm sorry for wanting your life."

She looked up from the ring and back at me. Then that horrible smile changed, her mouth opening into a huge, gaping hole, and she screamed.

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