Collection Of Short Stories And Story Ideas

Just one night

He should have been scared as he sat, on the brink of life and death. But all he found was an endless lake of sadness.

The dark road quiet, it was a weekday, not many people drove around at 11pm, especially not in such a quiet suburb.

Thrown from a vehicle, he was expected to draw his last breath, seeing the shadow of trees illuminated by street lamps.

"Oh my" came a hushed gasp, a woman in her late 20's was walking her dog, having gotten home late from work.

"Are you ok? Oh dear, fuck me, of course this happens to me" she mumbled to herself, caught up in the moment.

"I'll call the police, they should get you some help!" Assured the woman, pulling out her phone from her thick hoodies pocket.

To the man, the black haired woman was a ghost, her skin pale from working indoors without much sunlight. He shook his head, his jaw slack.

"No need" he slurred, his vision blurring out slightly. The woman stopped, shocked to hear that.

"But.... You're bleeding?! Why on earth would I not?!" Demanded the confused woman, her brown dog sniffing at the man's bloodied arm, the blood still fresh and leaking from his face.

"I don't wish to involve them. They'll kill me also" spoke the man, lethargic and beginning to topple.

"What? That's fucked, what do you mean by that? Um.... Shit you're passing out. Atleast let me collect my first aid kit!" Exclaimed the woman, to empathetic to deny a dying man his wishes.

At hearing a chance of survival, the man struggled to his feet, following the woman with the stagger of a movie zombie. The slow movements quieting his black shoed feet. He passed a hedge and followed the unaware woman up her driveway.

The dog pulled and whined, eager for it's dinner. The woman mumbled to herself as she unlocked the door, nearly screaming as the man placed a large hand on her shoulder.

"Holy shit! How are you walking! There's a-" she stopped talking as he pushed his way into the house, his blue shirt turning a rusty red as his blood dried.

He collapsed onto single seat couch in the main room, watching the woman who gaped in shock.

"I... I'll get the first aid kit" she mumbled, shaken and now a little scared, her dog trotting by her side, expecting a meal. She pulled out a simple first aid kit from her cupboards and approached the man warily.

Unsure of if he was just tricking her to let him in so he can steal from her, yet his injuries seemed real enough to her. Refusing to question it further, she got closer, squeaking in fright as he yanked the kit from her.

"A wet rag" he mumbled quietly, the startled and scared woman unable to catch his words.

He grunted as he fixed his position, eyeing her again, his dark brown eyes hollow as he grew weaker.

"A wet rag!" He snapped, she squeaked again, shocked even more. She wet an old tea towel and gave it to him.

"I'm sorry for snapping. I just don't quite want to die yet" he spoke, a deep relief in his voice. She could only nod at him, watching as he cleaned and bandaged his wounds.

Stripping his shirt, he eyed the knife wound and sighed, it missed. It barely missed his vital organs.

The dog whined and pawed at the woman hungrily, begging for it's dinner.

"I'll be back with some water" excused the woman, hurrying off to feed her dog and get herself a quick drink to calm her trembling fingers.

A stranger, a beaten and bloody stranger in her house! Though her home wasn't much, with peeling paint and sort of mismatched tiles. Her carpet rough and covered in fur.