Author: Sketched Text

CR Evans is an Australian writer. She is an avid horror fan and has been writing since she was a child. She has previously had a short story, “Shut-In” published by Flame Tree Publishing and plans to write an office-based horror novel. CR Evans has a longstanding interest in sci-fi, fantasy and horror and finds that in stories, the unknown elements are by far the most interesting.

A Shadow

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She was alone at last.

She made herself dinner, not realising her every move was surveilled. She took her plate to the lounge room and the figure darted from the darkness, snatching scraps left on the kitchen floor.

She went to the bedroom and removed clothes that felt heavy with the day’s spent energy. Walking nude to the bathroom, she didn’t hear the figure slink behind her into the bedroom, smelling the discarded items of clothing. Burying itself within them.

She slid the bathroom’s pocket door shut and turned on the shower. Stepping in, she didn’t hear the claws on the other side of the door.

They found purchase after a desperate flurry, pulling the door to the side. The creature was so keen for entry that it didn’t wait until the gap was wide enough.

The nose was through first, twitching at the steam. Then the mouth, all bared teeth as the edges of the door pulled its lips back. Then the eyes, immediately seeking the woman. It sat, unobserved on the bath mat, waiting to be acknowledged.

It waited until the shower stopped and the door finally opened.

“Oh! for fu-… hello, you little weirdo”

The cat purred.

Sacrifice

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“you chose to get pregnant, you shouldn’t complain about it”

“you should just be glad your baby is healthy”

“you’re tired now? It’ll be ten times worse when he arrives!”

It doesn’t matter how excited I am, my body still aches.

It doesn’t matter how long I prayed for this, it’s frustrating to have to wake up multiple times a night to waddle to the bathroom

It doesn’t matter what I sacrificed for this, it’s  getting tedious hearing the rapturous voice of the unborn repeating his dark plans for ascent.

Just let me complain, sheesh.

Scarecrow

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The scarecrow was the first change I made when I moved into my new home. I had no intention to maintain the vegetable garden my predecessor had cultivated, so why not cultivate friendship?

It was heavier than I thought it would be, likely from the rain. As I stood on the ladder, hoisting the sodden body off the post, I saw the first crow land in a tree nearby. I don’t think they were ever scared of it. They were simply clever enough to see that they were unwanted.

I had planned to tear the scarecrow apart to dispose of it in pieces over time. Then I thought about the legacy of rain that thing had withstood and the mould likely hiding inside, and left it to rot against the fence at the far side of the property.

The post was a separate issue. It had been cemented in, and the wood had been treated so it did not show signs of weakening or rot. I put it down the list of jobs that needed doing, and placed a piece of bread at its base as a peace offering.

The next day, the bread was missing and I saw two crows in the tree. Where the bread had been was a single button. It was blue and plastic, but unscratched and shiny. I picked it up and replaced it with a handful of peanuts. A chorus of caws sounded, that I interpreted as approving.

The gifts continued to be a novelty, for a time. Coins, buttons, an earring, pens.

The glass eye was the end of that time.

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Instructions

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Do you ever start a project, like cooking or sewing where you read the instructions, then forget them the moment you put them down? Confidently starting, then having to unfold the pamphlet, reopen the book, or pull the packet out from the bin?

It’s incredibly frustrating, so this time, Theo concentrates. He cleans his hands, makes what little space he can on the table, and opens the book. He finds the current step, reads through the rest and closes the book.

Then he focuses on the next step, with unblinking eyes and a steady hand.

Then he

Shit.

Theo grumbles to himself, rolls his eyes, and reaches for Gray’s Anatomy for the fourth time.

Memento Mori

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She brought him a hot drink
to place among other cups,
cold and filled to the brim.
Easily distracted, despite reminders,
he never drank enough to kill him.

She asked him to drive to the shops
while she stayed late at work,
to fetch dinner – maybe steaks.
But he ordered delivery
and never noticed the cut brakes.

She left him at home with traps on the stairs,
trusting his inattention to not notice
a roller-skate, toy cars, balls and a sled.
She returned to see it all unmoved,
He never came down from bed.

The life insurance would give her a new life,
free of boredom, drudgery, tedium.
Free from a husband who paid no attention.
But her plan was destined to fail:
her husband had forgotten to pay the premium.

Two Sentence Stories (part 25)

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Hearing the birds landing on the roof, Joe smiled at his perfected business model: selling people pet birds that were trained to return to him.

Sleeping soundly, Joe did not smell the smoke or feel the flames that spread from the device tied to the pigeon’s leg.

The seating chart was terrible and made no sense to anyone but the host, who insisted everyone take their seat and raise a toast.

Michael, Olivia, Liam, Omar, Charles and Helen all raised their glasses.

Three Sentence Stories (part 13)

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My neighbour started a new business of renting out his goats to clear weeds from overgrown properties. Seeing his success, I based mine off the same model.

Pigs really will eat anything, and housing can get overcrowded.

In the grocery aisle’s blindspot, the conman poured a puddle of water, disposed of the bottle, and carefully laid down.

Moments later, the manager helped him melodramatically hobble into the office to await the ambulance, though the conman insisted he could take a taxi to the hospital if given funds to cover the trip and bills.

When the ambulance finally arrived, they found the conman with a broken kneecap and the manager apologetic that there weren’t cameras in the aisle or his office.