Deaths Silhouette

It was a gloomy dreadful evening, the house felt like death. Janet, a woman of seventy-three years, had just lost her husband that morning to a sudden heart attack, so the doctors say. Believable this wasn’t, for just the night prior he told her in his fitful sleep “Death has beaten me, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have chose to fight!” She had been married to him for fifty whole wonderful years as of last spring. They had been high school sweethearts, and they grew up together in the small town of Indigo. His name was Ralph, that name was music to her ears. “Oh how I miss him”, Janet whispered. Just as this had passed by her lips the phone rang with a shrill.

It was only Janet’s daughter, Bridget. She heard the news from the doctor who called. She asked if she could come over to stay with her mother. Janet, welcoming the thought of not being alone, said to come over as soon as possible.

Just as the phone hung up, and the click was heard, Bridget broke into tears. She had lost her father. She told her husband John to get the kids all ready and tell them what happened, she needed time to pull herself together. About an hour later they were on their way to grandma’s house, not a word was spoken the whole way.

At ten on the clock the next morning they arrived to their destination. But as soon as they got to Indigo rain began to downpour. It didn’t seem to let up. When they walked in grandma said it had been raining since two nights ago. About the same time her Ralph had said his last words while sleep-talking. It never rained that long before in these parts. Never as hard as this torrent either.

In a way the house still felt like death. It was filled with odd creaks and other out of place sounds like rattling. Christine, the eldest of the three children had never thought of her grandma’s house to be this scary. Both of her younger brothers felt it too. Somehow there was a lingering feeling in the home. Something wasn’t right. They all knew it.

The three kids, Christine, Noah, and Zack, spent all day helping around the house and cleaning up the yard. Grandma and their parents had things to arrange for the funeral. Though, even then, at every turn it seemed that they found death or something rotten. The grass was mushy and dying. They found odd bits of food about the home. Flowers around and in the house were all dead. Even the trees seemed to be affected by this force as they were browning in leaves and drooping. Everything was in a state of decaying being.

The first, and last, night in the house strange noises were heard as soon as the sun hid its face from the world. Creaking and jangling ensued. All three children began to cry out for their parents. When the parents came each time it was the same story. They heard a voice telling them to leave or fight death itself. Each child said the same thing, and the only picture they could give of the person saying this was a black cloaked figure. But he was never there they said, they saw him in their subconscious minds. Their parents soothed the troubled children back to sleep and stayed with them throughout the night, deciding to tell grandma in the morning.

So they did just that, told the grandmother about this ghostly figure. What the children said about having to fight was too similar to what her husband had said just nights ago. Death had beaten her husband, and this death would not beat her grandchildren too. She decided they must leave. So she asked if she could live with them for the time being and they all packed up and left, never to return again. As they drove away they could see a cloaked figure standing by the front gate watching them leave. This must be the sight of death. This must be deaths silhouette.