Post #3: Ten spooky writing prompts for Halloween. For this story I used Prompt #6: You work at a funeral home and begin preparations to embalm the next corpse- but it’s YOU on the table. I’m combining it with: Morning Inspiration: Writing Prompt #318 and Fandango’s FOWC-Askew
As an accomplished mortician at Eternal Peace funeral home, I thought that I had experienced everything. I’ve embalmed countless bodies and learned to do so with a sense of detachment. However, as I entered the embalming room today, my world was turned upside down. I found myself staring at my own lifeless body on the table. My heart skipped a beat as the reality of the situation sank in. How was this possible?
I stared at my own reflection on the stainless-steel table, a surreal sight that sent shivers down my spine. The cold touch of the metal seemed to mock my predicament. The fragility of the human body became painfully apparent, and I couldn’t help but wonder if I had appreciated life enough while I still had the chance. The realization hit me like a ton of bricks, and a sense of regret washed over me.
With trembling hands, I proceeded to prepare my own body, meticulously, as I would for any other client, wondering how and when I had died. Was this some cruel joke or a twisted punishment? The eerie silence of the room only added to the fear and uncertainty that consumed me.
As I worked, I couldn’t shake off the feeling that I was being watched, and that I was not alone in the room. Every creak and whisper made my skin crawl and I couldn’t wait to finish the embalming and escape the funeral home. Hours passed in a haze, my hands working mechanically, guided by an unseen force. When I finally finished, exhaustion consumed me, and I collapsed into a nearby chair. The room was eerily silent, the weight of what I had just done settling upon me.
As I sat there, contemplating the surreal events of the evening, a chill swept through the room. The lights flickered, casting eerie shadows that danced across the walls. Fear gripped my heart, and I could sense a malevolent presence lurking in the darkness.
Suddenly, a gust of wind slammed the door shut, trapping me inside. The room grew colder, and I could hear whispers of the immortal, faint at first, then growing louder and more sinister. They spoke of death and despair, promising eternal torment.
In a panic, I tried to escape, pounding on the door, but it refused to budge. The whispers grew louder still, drowning out my pleas for help. And then, in one final terrifying moment, the lights went out, plunging me into an inky blackness that swallowed me whole.
The next morning, the funeral home staff discovered the embalming room in disarray, the table askew. The door was closed, locked from the inside, but when they finally managed to open it, they found no trace of me. Only a cold, empty room remained, the silence echoing the horror that had taken place the night before. #FOWC
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