BREAKING

Saturday, September 13, 2014

Wazzup Pilipinas Original Short Stories Series: Come With Me


Wazzup Pilipinas!

I consider myself as a coward because I’m always terrified of little and big things. Little things include cockroaches, spiders, and the likes, while big things include the death of someone special to me. When my pet cat died, I cried for days because of the fact that my cat will never return and be in my arms again.

In the story the narrator cannot accept the fact that she is scared of the woman that kept appearing at her window. She also cannot accept the fact that of all people in this world, why her? On the last part of the story the narrator had decided she had enough and killed the woman that kept appearing at her window.

On the first part of the story the conscience acted upon the narrator when she cannot tell her friends and father about the woman that kept appearing at her window. But on the last part of the story the conscience became inferior while the ego and anger ruled.

Please read on and enjoy the short story.

My window, it all started with the window in my bedroom. This night is no different from the other nights. No difference from day before, or the week before and the month before that. It was always the same, the voice that is almost too quiet to wake me up but loud enough to hear.

I would look at my window many times during the day, run my palm across it and rub the moist off to see the green scenery outside. I would even dare to open the windows and check if there were traces left from the night before.

But tonight she is here. She is at the window again. “Come. Come .Come with me”. It is always in the same pattern. The same voice and the same three words over and over again. I used my blanket to cover my head with my shaking fingers.

“Come. Come .Come with me.”

I could see her face in the window now, her nose pushed up against the glass. The same face from the day before, the week before and the month before that. The face I always tried to tell to my father, neighbors and friends. But every time I tried to put it into words, the words always came out unclear.

But now this very moment, with her deep black eyes, completely blank staring at me. I could see her clearly, a woman’s face-much older than me, maybe twenty or twenty five years. She had a revolting scar from her hairline to her cheek that is lumpy and purple in color. Her teeth I could see were crook and rotten. “Come. Come .Come with me.”

She pressed her nose harder against the glass. I wince when I heard a sickening sound, her nose, it went flat-shooting red liquid around the glass and her fingers are now bloody red from trying to smash the window. Then her deep black eyes pressed harder and harder and harder. But the window can’t break. It’s my only protection against her.

The glass finally cracked and I could see her crook and rotten teeth form a victorious smile. Her hands are leaving bloody handprints in my window sill as she tries to climb in my bedroom. I could see the blood and smell it, a proof that she is real and not just a figment of my imagination.

Then the glass which kept me safe for years finally gave in, her entire body crashed through my window. I wanted to scream. I wanted my dad to come rushing and save me. But I can’t speak my whole body is paralyzed. What did she want with me? Why me?

Then the woman walked across my room and up to my bed, putting her bloody fingers on my mouth. I tried to push her away but she wouldn’t budge. “Come. Come .Come with me.” After she said those words, I realize I had enough. I have to end this. I pulled a kitchen knife under my pillow and gripped it with my shaking fingers. Her eyes widen in shock on what I was about to do. I took the knife and stabbed her repeatedly. Blood sprayed on my face, body and my bedroom wall but I couldn’t care less. It’s over. I’m safe.

The next morning I went to my father and explained what happened. He understands the situation. He has loved me more than anybody else. He even helped me to hide the body.

One night in the middle of my sleep, my father came to my room and then lies next to me. His hands sneak under my clothes.”I’ve always known you’re a beautiful girl “he says “Good thing you killed your mother. She’s not here to protect you anymore.”


Contributed by Mary Rose Genilla

About ""

WazzupPilipinas.com is the fastest growing and most awarded blog and social media community that has transcended beyond online media. It has successfully collaborated with all forms of media namely print, radio and television making it the most diverse multimedia organization. The numerous collaborations with hundreds of brands and organizations as online media partner and brand ambassador makes WazzupPilipinas.com a truly successful advocate of everything about the Philippines, and even more since its support extends further to even international organizations including startups and SMEs that have made our country their second home.

6 comments:

  1. Hi there! I have my own original story written in wattpad. Please take to read too! http://www.wattpad.com/70599089-song-of-the-wondering-spirits

    ReplyDelete
  2. Woah! It was a really good story. I didn't expect that it would turn out that way. You really made me curious about characters in the story. Keep up the good work, it was Great!

    ReplyDelete
  3. A really wonderful story! It was very unexpected and very thrilling.


    -Shanthy Garcia

    ReplyDelete
  4. This is a whole new different story It gives me the creepy vibe and makes me want to know what will happen next. The story is mysterious and exciting at the same time. I want to know what happened to her mother, why she appears at her window every night. Nice plot! Make a prequel!! :)

    ReplyDelete
  5. This story has a very unique plot. I like the plot twist at the end of the story. Excellent story!

    ReplyDelete

Top ib essay writing service by Writemyessay.today with 200 experts. 123Termpapers.com - term paper writing service every student can afford
 
Copyright © 2013 Wazzup Pilipinas News and Events
Design by FBTemplates | BTT