Moon, by Steve Christie
The full moon looked down on Harry Templar from the night sky above as he sat shivering on the wooden bench in the old cemetery. He surveyed his surroundings. The place was empty, he had no one for company but the dead.
It was 2 AM and he was waiting for Linda.
She had phoned him half an hour ago and as always he had agreed to meet her. Why she had chosen this god forsaken place though…..he couldn’t understand.
She’d probably take advantage of their friendship as always. Every time she had a problem she whistled and inevitably he would come running. She’d been doing it for years, ever since they were kids.
He lit up a cigarette, striking the match just above the B on Billy Wilders Headstone.. He guessed Billy wouldn’t mind too much, he died from TB in 1893.
As he pulled his thick coat tightly against himself and took a large hit of nicotine he saw something moving in the distance, something far blacker than the darkness of the night surrounding it.
Must be a cat he thought, not much else it could be, it was larger than a rat, which pleased him. He hated rats. Ever since he was made to dissect one in the biology class at school. That had been years ago but ever since then any animal resembling a rodent in any way, shape or form, dragged him back through time to that day in the classroom. It was the smell he remembered most vividly, the horrible sweet rotten meat smell that emanated from the dead animal when he made his first and only sweeping incision with the scalpel, it was as sharp as a scythe.
One cuts all he managed, the combination of the pink flesh and the smell had made him throw up on the back of the girl sitting at the table in front.
He shivered at the memory and concentrated on finishing the rest of his cigarette.
Then he saw another dark shadow, larger this time, he caught the moonlight glinting in its eyes as it scarpered behind an ornate carving of an angel.
“What the fuck!”
Im having a flash back he thought, I shouldn’t have dropped all that acid all those years ago.
He rubbed his eyes and looked towards the angel.
She just knelt there, hands clasped together silently praying to the night sky above.
Quite a creepy looking figure he thought to himself as he blew a smoke ring into the air
Then, she stood up and turned her head towards him. He watched as the eyelids opened and blood red tears streamed down her alabaster face.
He tried to stand up but his legs had turned to jelly.
Then the black shape reappeared, he could see what it was now, It was a huge raven. It perched on the angels shoulder and made a hideous sound.
He could feel and hear his heart beating in his chest, the pounding was getting louder and louder.
His legs still wouldn’t work, he rubbed them, frantically trying to get rid of the numbness, it was no use, they felt like they didn’t belong to him anymore.
He watched as the statue, with the ever present raven got closer and closer.
He watched as the blood flowing from her eyes started forming bright red gothic letters.
N then E…….. He watched the word form. NEVERMORE.
He woke up to bright sunlight, it took him a few seconds to find his bearings.
“You’d fallen asleep and you were mumbling, looked like you were having a nightmare.”
He sat up on the bench in the country church yard and glanced over at the statue of the angel.
He shivered and looked at the book at his side.
The Complete Works of E.A.Poe.
He tossed it in the bin at the side of the bench.
“That’s the last time Im reading that shit!”
Steve Christie’s author webpage can be found at http://about.me/stevechristieauthor.
Posted on January 20, 2014, in Issue 12: The Shadows Only Hide the Monsters: Poe & Lovecraft Tribute and tagged e-zine, Edgar Allan Poe, flash fiction, H.P. Lovecraft, horror, monsters, The Were-Traveler, Tribute. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.