What is that a shape in the mirror behind the candle? Gah, just candle smoke! I should just snuff the stupid thing so I can get some sleep, but I can’t make myself. The candle is almost at its end anyway.
The ancient bed creaks every time I turn, and I curse the moment I accepted this inheritance–old, long-lost and in the middle of nowhere. Sure, it is pretty during the day with all its carved wooden panels, but at night, it is plain scary. My boring job in the city is better than the night-long agitation; jumping in the dark at every sound this old house makes.
Pipes groan every now and then. Windows I probably missed closing somewhere in the house rattle loudly. Is it windy outside? I can’t it feel it here in my room with the windows closed and curtains on. Floorboards pitter-patter with tiny feet–I need mouse traps by the dozen, it seems.
That smoke in the mirror–is that a face? Is it sneering at me?
My insides quiver with a chill unrelated to the weather. I need sleep. No, I need to get out of this ghost house. I will drive back home tomorrow morning and sell off this place. Who wants to live inside a horror show? No electricity, no company. At this rate, I will go insane in a couple of days.
That sneer in the mirror…that candle smoke…are those canine teeth really growing?
Oh! The candle’s burnt out! I should have lighted a new one while there was still light. Now, where is that torch?
Damn! Where is that bloody cellphone?
Fine, I will just open the curtains.
I stumble in the darkness to the nearest window and pull the curtains open, avoiding looking outside in the wilderness. Silver moonlight filters in to show the smoke gone from the candle.
The sneer with canines still lingers…
Short Stories | Fish-eye Perspective 