She stared down at her hands. They had done this. They had carved through the competition to achieve her dreams. Her eyes glazed over, contemplating whether or not they were truly hers, or if they had now taken on a life and personality of their own. No red tape or doubt could hold them back. They knew what they wanted and they took it, heedless of the shy and conserved woman she used to be. Her attention snapped back into the present as she heard a door open and close somewhere else on the floor. Her lips curled back, baring teeth that had seen more darkness than light through years of shy smiles and hidden scowls. Now they shone in the dim illumination of the exit sign, glinting in eager anticipation. These were not someone else’s hands and teeth. They were hers. And their work wasn’t done just yet.
Published by John Baltisberger
I fell in love with horror in a roundabout way. I liked Conan the Barbarian. He was intelligent, fierce and able to get with strong beautiful women. Best of all, his creator was a Texan like me! Reading Robert Howard led me to Lovecraft and Ashton Clark Smith. I hope to conjure the same feelings of dread and mystery, maybe without the crippling 1930's racism! View all posts by John Baltisberger