Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-33904527-20181201165951

Gill stared at the blackness above him. Another painful creak sounded from outside, ripping through his skull like a child through a birthday present. He pressed the pillow against his ears once more in a vain effort to block out the noise. Still, it echoed into the cabin, only slightly muffled by the cotton beneath his head. Something else had to be done.

With tired, fluttering eyelids, Gill peeled the blanket off his torso and shuffled to the edge of the bed. Grasping around in the darkness, he found the handle of his bedside table’s drawer and pulled it open, pulling out a small brown box from the clutter. Gill plucked out a match and struck it against the side of the container, lighting it instantly. He scooped up the lantern from the floor and stuck in the flame, casting a brilliant orange glow across the room. The walls shifted back and forth in Gill’s hazy vision as he leant over to put on his boots.

He stood up and rubbed his temple, taking slow, heavy steps to the door. A quick glance towards the mirror on the mantel showed Gill the scruffy, stubbled face he expected, coupled with a mop of shaggy hair. He wiped the crust from his eyes with his free hand as a crack of thunder whipped through the sky outside, with a flash of white shining through the windows against the pouring rain. The storm had been raging on for quite some time now.

Gill slipped on his weathered coat and pulled out his keys. The wood was cold to the touch as he grabbed the doorknob firmly, bracing himself for the conditions. Taking one last look at his dry, comfortable mattress, Gill drew in a deep breath and flung the door open.

The door slammed shut behind him in the howling wind almost as soon as he stepped outside. Immediately drenched, he held up his lantern and squinted through the rain across the river. A thick layer of fog was floating over the water, clouding the far-off mountains ahead. Gill’s little fishing boat was furiously rocking back and forth, barely held in place through the fierce winds. Taking a few steps forwards, Gill could just make out the shape of his net swinging back and forth on the hook it was attached to. Every time the wind blew, the beam would creak as it swung loosely above the ground. But Gill could tell there was something wrong. The net sagged more than it usually did. There was something else caught in it, something much bigger than a fish. Keeping the lantern at the end of his outstretched arm, Gill furrowed his brow and approached the shape, fighting against the diagonal rain pounding against his face.

Soon, Gill could make out the pale silhouette of a hand shining against the soaked exterior of the cabin in the moonlight. His bony fingers traced the coarse rope of the net, and with a dramatic boom of thunder, a strike of lightning illuminated an icy pale body tangled in the netting.

Gill shook his head and let out a tired sigh. He unhooked the net and let it fall to the ground, the fish spilling out across the dirt. No matter. He would clean them up ready for consumption in the morning. Slumping the mangled corpse over his shoulder, he tossed it back out into the river, where the bouncing tides carried it out of sight.

Taking a moment of reflection, Gill wondered how the body managed to wash up at his doorstep yet again, even after he’d disposed of it so well the first time. 