Hannah Patterson
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Stories (4)
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Replacement. Honorable Mention in The Life-Extending Conundrum Challenge.
Theseus’ eyes opened, blinking as they adjusted to the light. It was a little easier than yesterday, but after being closed so long, he was still struggling to get used to his new eyes. As he looked around his bedroom, everything seemed to blur together in a bright dance of shape and color. Gradually, the forms fell into place, but he still found himself a bit overstimulated. He closed them again. Was this how I saw things before? he wondered. He’d needed glasses for so long, he’d forgotten what things were supposed to look like. He looked over at his old progressives sitting peacefully on the nightstand next to the small stack of large print books. “Won’t be needing those anymore,” he chuckled to himself. A bit disoriented, he got out of bed and walked to the kitchen.
By Hannah Patterson9 months ago in Longevity
Reflection of a Butterfly
I gasped, jolted awake by terror, drenched in the cold sweat of a nightmare. The feeling of uneasy coldness penetrated my core. My insides shivered, and I promptly threw up on the bed. Tears stung my eyes as I carried my soaked bedding to the washer, the smell of vomit burning in my nose. As I passed the window, my reflection flashed in the glass. My heart jumped, bringing my stomach along with it. My skin crawled as I stared at myself. I eventually tore myself away and sat down shakily in my recliner. I tried to relax, but every time I closed my eyes, my reflection would flash across my mind, and my eyes would flutter open again. After much struggle, the weakness and exhaustion took me.
By Hannah Patterson2 years ago in Horror
The Pond. Top Story - October 2021.
It was early in the morning. The sun hadn’t risen yet and the sky was a deep medium blue. The moon was still out, bathing the town in a soft ambient light. A blanket of fog was on the ground, giving everything an ominous air. Last night’s rain dripped rhythmically from the eaves of the house. Lila made her way softly down the front steps, the only sound coming from the gentle swishing of her nightgown. Drip, drip, swish. Drip, drip, swish. She put her foot down slowly to avoid a squelching sound as her feet made contact with the mud. The moisture seeped through her socks, making her feet clammy. The thick fog made her hair frizz and her nightgown cling to her legs. She shivered from the cold. Squelch, squelch, squelch, went her feet. Swish, swish, swish, came her nightgown. She made her way to the cobblestone road. Where will I go today? she asked herself automatically. She paused, waiting for the mechanical answer of, back inside, but it didn’t come. Instead, she heard, to the pond. Without hesitation, she turned to the left and walked silently to the pond. Her footfalls came in soft thuds, rather than squelches. She walked about a mile out. Thud, thud, swish. Thud, thud, swish.
By Hannah Patterson4 years ago in Horror
