Monstrosity of a Night...

 Cynthia's heart began to quicken as the sun disappeared behind the gloomy clouds and darkness enveloped the sky. The street was drowned in an eerie silence, the street lamps kept flickering not helping her find her way home. She looked up at the sky searching for the moon but ended up gazing at the pitch-black sky, not a soul could be seen walking down the street. Even the leaves of the sycamore trees planted on either side of the road didn't stir when a chilly breeze blew, which was quite unusual in May when most of the days passed in blistering heat.

 Despite the cool breeze, Cynthia's face was clammy with sweat, and her striking green eyes swam with tears as she longed for company in this deserted street. Although it was only half past eight, Cynthia hoped to get away from this street, where every small movement made her flinch. She thought of calling someone, maybe her friend Irene to drive her home, but even in her head the idea sounded ridiculous as her home was only fifteen minutes away, but right now those few minutes felt like an eternity to her.

 Again the cool breeze started to blow, this time stronger, the trees around her began to sway in rhythmic motion, and the dried leaves started to fall, littering the street, Cynthia wrapped a parka snugly around her as she started to shiver violently. She had never walked home using this street, because everyone had warned her that this street was treacherous, but today she turned a deaf ear to all those warnings and took this road, but this detour became the worst mistake of her life…

An owl hooted somewhere and Cynthia began to quicken her pace, but before she had taken hardly three steps she heard a voice from behind. A hoarse voice that she didn't recognize; whispered, crooning a little,' You are so very pretty dear, I want to marry you, today.' Cynthia froze, her extremities went numb, the person with the hoarse voice grasped her sweaty hand and spun her around to face him; it was a gruesome sight; broad face with sagging skin engraved with several scratches, tobacco-stained teeth and bloodshot eyes, which had no warmth in it, eyeing Cynthia with great interest, his upper lip curled up in a spiteful sneer. The size of him made her gasp, her throat suddenly became dry and she spoke in a quivering voice, 'Who are you? I don't know you.'

 The man didn't give her any reply but his smile became wider and he held her eyes for an excruciatingly long time in an unblinking way that made her face go pale. 'You don't know me dear, but I know you very well.'' the man spoke, slurring a little. Cynthia turned paler, she tried to pry her fingers from the man's firm grip but it didn't make any difference. She thought of screaming for help, but she knew too well that no one would come for her in this desolate street. Nevertheless, Cynthia screamed, tears rolling down her cheeks, it sounded like a pitiable cry of an animal about to be slaughtered. The man's face reddened with anger and his eyes glistened with malice.

'P-Please let me go, w-what have I done to you?' Cynthia whimpered but he ignored her and made a grab for her face, she ducked and started to run into the woods, her blonde hair flying, but he was way too quick for her, he threw her against the trees and ripped her hair, Cynthia howled in pain.  Every time, Cynthia screamed, he smiled wickedly with immense pleasure. When the man stopped to catch his breath, Cynthia desperately tapped the muddy ground and luckily found a wooden stick. She picked it up tremblingly and aimed for the man's head.

Cynthia swung.

She hit him across the temple, she hit him hard. The blow knocked him off of her and he staggered a few steps back. Cynthia got up, every inch of her body screamed in protest and limped towards the street, chanting prayers. She cared for nothing but that she wanted to get out of here soon. Every rustle of the leaves made her shudder harder than ever. She felt the big hands smeared with blood and dirt, clasp her throat; she didn’t even realize that the stranger was coming for her. Cynthia’s face started to turn blue, her eyes rolled back, she stopped struggling, and this meant he was strangling her. With one hand still on Cynthia’s neck, the man fumbled for something in his pocket and brandished a huge silver knife.

 When Cynthia saw the sharp weapon she started to kick his shins but he didn't even notice her futile struggles. He stabbed her numerous times until there was a pool of blood below them, and Cynthia’s half-conscious mind could only think, what had she done to endure this stranger’s continual condescension? The man’s face which was alight with absurd madness concluded that he had no plans to abandon the action he was going to perform. After what seemed an eternity he dropped the knife on the ground once he realized Cynthia's eyes were closed and panting slightly, he walked deeper into the forest, stooping a little; the retreating footsteps were the only sound Cynthia could hear before she slumped down on the asphalt and moved no more.