by Dottie Taylor
word count: 500
It happened at midnight. Sherri had the most vivid, unsettling vision of her life. It triggered a feeling of dread. Her heart lurched and her flesh tingled as it always did during these visions. Sitting up in bed, she braced herself, muscles tense and eyes shut as her mind's eye took over....,
her thoughts spiraling down.
She wouldn't let it happen again. She squeezed her eyes tight, blocking the vision. It didn't matter, she was sucked into the nightmare, a living, breathing thing. Sherri was precognitive, seeing the future both a gift and a curse, her abilities limited as to when the visions came true. They always did and this one had plagued her for two years. She thought she'd freed herself, thought the future had changed, but the vision was back and bloodier than before. Something had changed, and not for the better.
The vision always began the same. Lying on a bed, hands tied above her head, blindfold blocking her sight, consciousness coming slowly. She shifted feeling the stirring of clothes against her flesh. Her arms ached and she tried pushing up to ease the pain, a moan escaped her lips. She wriggled her fingers, forcing blood into her deaden arms. She didn't know where she was or why the sadist had been chosen her.
She wiggled as much as the bindings would allow and something new happened. The blindfold slipped, her surroundings revealed. She was in a seedy motel room, dingy sheets, and old black splashes covered the walls. She heard the scrape of a key in the lock and her eyes were drawn to the door. The knob turned as the door creaked open, she waited with held breath for the face of her jailor.
Should she pretend unconsciousness? No, this might be the only chance to help herself. She steeled against what she knew was coming, the ritual chanting, the knife against the whetted stone.
A body pressed into a slivered opening, head facing the floor.
Come on you bastard, Sherri thought, show me your cowardly face. And then he did.
Sherri gasped in both the present and the future. No, no, no.... not him. Sherri watched Matthew come into stark reality. Her Matthew. And the knife. She watched him creep closer, heard the chant beginning, and forced herself away from the vision, the impending doom.
Her eyes opened, her hand clutched her heart. Matthew was the destroyer of her future, her love, her life. Hot tears fell from her eyes. The monster had touched her, his unclean scent clung to her body. She ran to the shower, soaping and scrubbing until her skin was raw and red.
Should she run? No, she'd make her stand here, now. The bastard might kill her, but the vision would end on her terms. Listening for signs of Matthew's return, Sherri readied herself.
When she heard, “Honey, I'm home,” she was waiting. She'd play the seductress one last time. Matthew Renaud, her husband and murderer would not escape.
Thanks Sassy Brit and Diane Rubino for the excellent line prompt story starter. I've once again gone dark and gloomy, but maybe next time, light and airy? We'll see....