The car park. A short modern horror story.

I am, by wishful trade, a writer. But until I’m discovered as the greatest writer since Samuel Pepys and Terry Pratchett, I will post my work here, to you lovely and fabulous people!
I present a short fictional story for your eyes.

She pulled into the car park, driving to her regular space. She parked here every time, every night the same space, right next to the ticket machine. A lot of other people parked here, but it was always quiet this time of night, apart from a few skaters hanging around in the corners, hiding from the rain.

She was sorting out her money from her money pot when she heard the car and saw the lights. Another car driving down to the basement level, she frowned slightly, but stopped when she felt her skin wrinkle. She couldn’t bear to make her face unattractive, she loved it too much. She locked her car and walked round to the front of the machine, then sighed aloud at the ‘out of order’ sign stuck over the front. She turned, looking for another machine, and saw the other driver for the first time. She almost backed away, he was huge. He was walking towards her, looking at his hands, playing with change. She stepped towards him, feeling a little pang of attraction at his size and decided to be kind. “This one’s still broken.” He looked up at her slight voice, his head slightly tilted, a half smile playing across his lips. “Typical.”

She walked towards the other machine, knowing he was following her, hearing his footsteps. The other machine was far over on the other side, but she heard his footsteps get quicker, and felt suddenly vulnerable. She looked around the car park, at the lack of cameras, the dark shadowy patches, the lack of other people and felt afraid. She reached the machine and used it as an excuse. “At least this one works” she laughed. He was right behind her, he quickly took his eyes from her body to her face, smiled and laughed.

She had to look away to buy her ticket, she could hear her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel him standing closer to her back and she prayed for the machine to print quickly. It spat the ticket out at her and she grabbed it, turning at the same time, putting her foot between herself and the man, only just blocking him taking another step closer to her. She looked into his eyes and shuddered. His pupils dilated and she heard his breath shudder from his chest.

She stepped from the machine and started towards her car, determined that he wouldn’t suspect her thoughts, her fears. He watched her departing, she could feel his eyes on her back, tracing her body, undressing her with his eyes. Finally he sighed at a wasted opportunity, turned back to the machine and put his money in. He went back to his car and was imagining a night with her, even half an hour, how hot she would be, how rampant. He knew he could make her buck and scream in his arms, he knew he could take her and work her again and again. Whether she wanted it or not. He had seen her so many times, he knew she always parked there, every day. She would be back later, when there was no-one for at least half a mile. There would be no parking wardens, he knew the rota, he knew her times, he had been watching her for weeks. He had been planning his approach, he had taken the memory and the thought of her home again and again. Now he had to have the real thing, he had spoken to her, she had spoken to him, after months of watching, waiting and wanking to her, he had to have her. He was bent over his gym bag, grabbing his keys and trying to push his erection down, which is why he didn’t hear the feet approach.

He felt the breath on his arm, heard the breathing, too late. But he smelt her perfume. Knew it instantly. He felt the hands wander round his front, sliding over his abs and sighed, he felt his erection grow again, he tried to turn but she stopped him. Slid her hand down his front, working her hand into the front of his joggers and he couldn’t stop the moan escaping his throat.

He leaned his head back and too late felt the knife slide into his throat. He jerked his head forward, tried to grab her, but she jumped, hung on his back, twisting the knife, then taking it slowly out before thrusting again and again. The blood was pounding in his ears, spraying from his neck. He watched it splash on his car and the floor through the growing darkness.

He slid to the floor and she moaned, straddling his twitching body.

“I’ve been watching you for months. You have the most beautiful eyes, I had to have you.” She leaned forward and kissed his blood and spit dripping lips, licking up his throat to his chin. She leaned over, looking deep into his dilating eyes, then ran her tongue over the slick orbs.
“I had to have you.” He felt the pain in his eyes before he passed out.

The news the next day reported a body found in the basement car park. The mans body had been found by some skaters, hiding from the rain. His eyes had been removed, seemingly pulled from their sockets. It was similar to another dozen crimes across the country. No witnesses had come forward.

She drove into the next town, looking for a car park. She would find someone, someone with beautiful eyes. But she wouldn’t rush, she never did.


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