Crooked Fork

Time was inconsequential as we sat vibrating with the nerves coursing through our bodies. It was in that state of sheer terror that we saw it. 

The doorknob barely visible above the bedframe began to spin ever so slowly counter clockwise, rotating until the door latch was free. The bedframe gave a quick screech across the floor as the door was slammed into, sliding several inches across the floor.

Through the gap created in the doorway I saw them, higher than they should have been were two blackish grey hands, the fingers unnaturally long and pointed almost resembling talons.

They were working against the door and bed frame, slamming the door into the frame and sliding it ever further away from our safety. We sat not even daring to take a breath, fear like I have never known ate away all possible thoughts or plans as we sat and watched as death was creeping ever closer. As the bed gave another loud screech I couldn’t help the glance I returned towards the door.  

Oh how I wish I had resisted that instinct. My eyes locked with the hallowed glowing eyes of a severely gaunt face. Its teeth had no option but to be bared. Sharp and jutting in horrible angles, with no lips remaining for them to hide behind. But it was its eyes that held me locked in their gaze, feeling me entirely with an icy coldness that had nothing to do with the temperature and everything to do with the certainty that those eyes promised an excruciating death.

One more push against the door and it would be over for us.