Xeno Hemlock
Author
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Death's Last Days With the Dying

The Creaking

Memory 071

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I could've told Henrietta to stop pounding at the door and take pity on her bruised shoulder. Too bad she couldn't see nor hear me. If her mouth wasn't gagged, cries for help would accomplish every beat on the wooden door. If it wasn't for the brutal hours too, tears would complete that trio.

She stepped away from the door when footsteps arrived on the other side. She didn't move for a short while. A wooden creaking ended her anticipation. The final emotion in Henrietta's eyes was the clue the newcomer wasn't Prudence.

After a quick struggle, my reaping began.

Xeno Hemlock