A horror story set in a city that takes place in o
A horror story set in a city that takes place in one night with a final girl who dressed up for a night out but ends in tragedy
The city hummed with an unsettling energy, a low thrum that vibrated through the cobblestones beneath Chloe’s heels. She adjusted her scarlet dress, its fabric shimmering under the harsh streetlamps, and smiled at her reflection in the shop window. Tonight was going to be perfect.
She was meeting her friends at the newly opened speakeasy, The Crimson Raven, a place rumored to be steeped in history and shrouded in mystery. Chloe had been looking forward to it all week, the perfect escape from the drudgery of her nine-to-five. She had even splurged on a new lipstick, its shade mirroring the ruby in her dress.
As she navigated the labyrinthine alleys, the air grew thick with the scent of rain, and the city lights seemed to dim. Her phone, already at a low battery, finally died, plunging her into a darkness punctuated only by the occasional, distant howl.
Fear prickled at the back of her neck. It wasn’t the darkness that bothered her, it was the silence. The city, usually a cacophony of noise, was eerily quiet, the only sound the drip-drip-drip of unseen water. She quickened her pace, the fear turning to a cold dread.
A sudden rustle in the shadows made her jump. A stray cat, its eyes glowing green, darted across the alley, vanishing into the murky depths. Chloe’s heart pounded against her ribs, her breath catching in her throat. She was lost.
She turned a corner, her heels clicking on the pavement, the sound amplified in the silence. The street ahead seemed to stretch into eternity, empty save for a solitary lamppost, its light casting long, skeletal shadows that danced on the cobblestones.
Suddenly, a sound, a low, guttural growl, emanated from the shadows. Chloe froze, her breath caught in her throat. The growl was followed by a scuttling, the sound of unseen things moving in the dark. Her mind conjured images of things she couldn’t see, things that lurked in the shadows, things that weren’t meant to be seen.
She ran, the red fabric of her dress a beacon in the darkness. The growl intensified, followed by the clatter of unseen footsteps. She could hear the heavy breaths, the rasping sounds coming closer.
The alley opened onto the main street, the streetlamps casting a cold, pale light on the deserted street. Chloe tripped, falling hard on the cobblestones, the breath knocked out of her lungs.
Then, she saw them.
Standing at the end of the street, silhouetted against the pale light of the streetlamps, were figures. They were tall, with elongated limbs and faces obscured by the darkness. They moved with an unnatural grace, their eyes gleaming like burning embers.
The fear she had been trying to quell, the fear that had been building inside her, exploded into a scream that echoed in the empty street.
The figures began to move. The scarlet dress, a beacon in the dark, became her death sentence. The night, once a promise of escape, had become a night of terror, a night where the city devoured its prey.
In the end, the only sound that remained was the drip-drip-drip of unseen water, the faint echo of her scream slowly fading into the night. And the city, draped in the shadows, watched.
