My short story (Creed - James Herbert)

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Product:	Creed - James Herbert
Date:	31/01/02 (30 review reads)
Rating:

Advantages: horror

Disadvantages: not sure

This is my short story, which i think is on the same topic as Creed by James herbert:

Four Walls

The crash, followed by the immediate tinkling of pointed shards of glass, pierced the air, which at this time of night, was usually invested in a cathedral silence. The next sound was the slight cracking of the glass shards as thick boots enforced their weight on them and they were pushed deep into the thick folds of the plush carpet. The feet then moved silently over to where a solid oak box stood proudly on a teak shelf. The intruder opened the box to see the bounty of silver and gold jewelry, which boasted their wealth. Over the trespasser head, creaking boards showed that the shattered glass had roused the owner of this substantial wealth. The piercing blue eyes followed this sound until the occupant had made to the staircase. The thickset hands reached over to where a shimmering candleholder stood proudly displaying its brilliance to the world. The outsiders fingers curled around the twisted metal and held it in an overwhelming grip so that the knuckles turned white as they were raised above the head of intruder as he stealthily hid behind the door that was already opening. An old woman, around 76 years old, white as a sheet called “the police are on their way, come out and –“. The sentence was cut short as wide eyes turned up as the candleholder, once a flamboyant decoration, now acting as a brutal weapon came flying into the back of her head with a gargantuan thud. Far away in the distance, barely recognizable, there was a faint sound of a police siren. By the time the thief had made to the window, the blue and red lights lit up his face, showing the prominent features of a 36 year old, and then the rough hands of a police officer had thrown him to the ground.
Derek Marsden sat on the bed in the cell he was to remain in for the rest of his life. He played back the sentence that had already been reminisced in h
is mind countless times “Derek Marsden, you have been sentenced to life imprisonment for the 2nd degree murder of Mary Boyle”. A melancholic sigh escaped the pale lips as Derek recalled his wife and children who had abandoned him as soon as they heard the somber news. He had lost so much in one insignificant burglary, which due to a moment’s loss of control had decided his fate, which was to spend the rest of his meaningless days in prison in the suburbs of London. A knock on the wrought iron door, jolted Derek from the past to the present. A narrow hatch opened at the base of the door, and a plastic plate where the only slight pleasure of the whole prison routine lay, food. Derek ate his food in silence as he had always done; other occupants became fairly social at the meal times, talking contently with the other prisoners, except for Derek. Nobody socialized with him, he didn’t mind though. He did not want to be associated with the rapists and murderers. He felt that their thoughts and feelings would infect him. He was not one of them; he had grieved over what he had done. For the first week of his arrival to the ‘coffin’, as he called it, he had not spoken a word and hardly ate a morsel. He sat there contemplating what he had done.
In the tiny little cell, in which Derek sat, day after day, month after month, year after year, there was only one thing that kept him sane, the rectangular window on the back wall of the ‘tomb’. Every morning he would gaze out at nature with an indescribable longing to be among the trees, which encircled the prison. That was everybody’s dream in jail, to be free. It was only four, 5cm thick bars that prevented Derek from escaping. For the first year, that was all he could think about, getting out, making it up with his family. Now he was plunging into despair, not longing for anything. Taking it day by day that was the only way to make it through prison, but what was the point,
he would never be able to get out, what was the point in trying to survive. Every time he touched the cold metal bars, it reminded him of the candlestick holder that he had held that night.
One evening lying as he always did on his mattress, staring up at the ceiling deep in sorrow and regret, he heard a small scuffling. He shrugged this off, “only the wind”; all was silent…THUMP! This sudden noise made Derek jump up out of his stupor. He stared around the tiny room; the haunting shadows from the moonlight outside sprawled across the cell, like the old woman had done when she had died. Derek paced slowly around space checking every spot where this noise could have come from. Wide eyed he lay back on his bed, closed his eyes and trying to get rid of the feeling that he was not alone. “How could somebody else be in the room, he could not get out, it’s a jail for goodness sake” Later on in the night, he woke up with a start. He sat there trying to figure out what had woken him. Then, he heard a faint sound, so faint that he could hardly hear over his own breathing. Then, it started to get louder, thump, thump, thump, he could hear another persons heartbeat getting louder and louder. Rising up from a quiet beat up to what sounded like someone beating a huge drum. Then suddenly, silence. Nothing could be heard. Then, cold fingers grabbed his shoulder. With a loud exclamation of horror Derek spun round to see the white, cold looking face of Mary Boyle.
“Oh my God, How”.
“Not pleased to see me” the old woman spoke softly, but with a sinister hint of pleasure at his fright.
“But, but” Derek stuttered. “Your dead”.
With a macabre smile, she said slowly, word by word “So are you”. There was a moment of indescribable shock as a thousand thoughts rushed through Derek’s mind.
“What, how, when did I die”.
“Right after you robbe
d my house and killed me”. Derek started to panic, not believing what he was hearing.
“No, I can’t be dead, I am here”.
The woman smiled again “Do you think this place is hell”,
“Yes, course I do” he said, then paused, the thought slowly dawned on him. Patiently, the haggard, old figure spoke
“What if it was… Your trial, that was not just for the murder but for your life, it was your judgement, Derek, and you lost”. Mary Boyle slowly rose up walked to the door and passed through. Derek rested his chin on his chest.
“Life sentence” that’s what the judge had said, it should have been eternal sentence.

Thanks for reading!

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