Bad omens – Short Horror Story

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I thought it was just a string of bad luck. We’d book a dinner reservation, and they would seat us in the worst, cramped section of the restaurant. I’d wait at the crosswalk—wearing my nicest suit—and a car would come speeding along, splashing a puddle on my latest purchase. But as I continued to fall victim to mild inconveniences, the scenarios slowly worsened.

During our anniversary dinner, while my wife Cheri went to the restroom, a man at the table next to me lunged at me with a small knife. When his attack was unsuccessful, he stormed out and was never caught. Days later, I narrowly dodged the chandelier in our foyer room as it came unhinged and crashed to the floor.

The worst of it arrived while I was sleeping one Sunday night. Cheri pressed a pillow against my face. An attempt to suffocate me. I knew in the pit of my stomach that she only married me for money, but I didn’t think she had this in her. To become such an evil person. I flung her off the bed, and her skull cracked against the corner of the nightstand. She survived, but as you can imagine, she found a new home behind bars.

Her attempt on my life—as horrifying as it was to experience—was just the beginning of a new ominous reality. Every breathing moment of my day was filled with dread. A dark presence lurked in the corner of every room I spent time in. I could feel something watching me. Had I cheated death, I thought to myself. Was Cheri supposed to get away with it? Was the hitman she hired supposed to have completed the job?

There’s something living in this house with me. I unknowingly poured dishwasher liquid into my beef stew the other night. Before I took a bite, I realized what I had done and dumped it. During a bath, I nodded off and slipped below the water. Miraculously, a leg cramp woke me and jolted me up.

Last night, I tossed and turned in a heap of sweat. I sat up and rubbed my eyes. In the corner of my room, I spotted him. A scythe in his hands. The face of a skeleton beneath the hood of his dark robe. But the reaper didn’t have a smiling grin. There was a raging hatred in his expression. He knows I shouldn’t be alive. I must figure out a way to stay alive.

submitted by /u/y2justdog
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