Thanks Angelika Devlyn for this weeks line prompt which goes something like..........
By Dottie Taylor
word count: 500
Simone opened the door to the basement and peeked through into the darkness. 'Who's down there?' she shouted, sounding more confident than she felt. When no one replied she switched on the light and tip-toed down the creaky stairs to investigate. Please let it be that damn cat from next door!
The steps creaked and groaned as she made her way toward the basement, the musty smell of old concrete surrounded her. Simone felt her heart racing as she came closer to the dimly lit space.
“Hello..?” she called from the fourth riser above the floor. Again only silence met her ears. Damn it, she thought, probably the foundation settling, but dread crawled across her skin.
Simone stepped down twice more, something brushed her ankle. She screamed and scurried up the steps again, trying to see what touched her. Shit, one of the handles of the bags stored beneath the steps!
As her heart returned to racing instead of bursting, she retraced her steps, slowly and carefully, stepping around the handle.
There was the sound again, almost a moaning. She glanced around and brought her foot to the second from the bottom of the steps. Icy fingers curled around her ankle, jerking her from feet, bringing her to her knees on the concrete floor.
Simone kicked at the hand with her other foot, screaming incoherently as she scrambled and scraped her fingernails across the cold cement floor, trying to find purchase. She cried out, begging and pleading, but the filthy fingers were like a vice, there was no escape. “No, no, no!”
“Simone...” croaked the voice that sounded more like air leaving a collapsed bag than anything else. “Simone DuBoise....” The voice gasped out.
“Let me go!” She screamed as tears streaked down her cheeks, twisting as the vice-like claw bit further into her ankle.
“Please, let me go.” Defeat rang in her ears. As Simone glanced around, she saw the shades moving. Desperate, she begin to pray. “Our father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name, thy kingdom come, thy will be done...”
The shades hissed, moving faster now, almost to their quarry. They hungered unrelentingly, falling upon her. Simone screamed, aware of the claws and the shades about to consume what they coveted.
“Please,” Simone begged, “someone... help me.” Agony was now her friend. Her body flamed, burning where the shades touched, like leeches they sucked and consumed.
Suddenly, a blinding white light greeted her eyes, and in the light, a mighty steed bearing a fierce warrior, the Sword of Light grasped in his hand.
A voice thundered with anger around the moldering cement, shaking the room, sending the shades quaking.
“Release her!” The Sword sliced like death's sickle through the air, shattering the shades. Simone was left quivering on the floor, her eyes squinted against the brightness.
“Be wary, the shades have now tasted you.” The warrior faded, not waiting for his thanks.