An extract of a short story I'm writing in the hopes of it being accepted for an anthology.
I was about to lift myself up when I felt a hand against my arm and everything went black. Slowly colour started seeping in, a deep red colour. It looked as though someone has taken rust, mixed it to make a paste and spread it over the floor with splatters up the wall. As more colour came in my view widened and I could see what made the mess. In the middle of the room was a woman with long black hair, wrapped around her face obscuring all features bar one green eye that looked luminous against the black. She had shallow cuts across nearly every inch of her skin and bruises across the rest. I thought she was already dead then saw her chest jerk with a shallow breath.
That’s when I heard the laugh.
My insides turned to ice as my blood ran hot with fear. Standing over the woman was an immaculately dressed, good looking man. In his hand was a large knife, blood slowly dripping to the floor. Sensing his presence the woman on the ground began to squirm. A softly whispered “no more” floated throughout the room. He laughed again and stepped over what looked like the outline of a circle and knelt in the blood, carpet squelching. He held his up in the air and said something I couldn’t hear, and then brought it down slashing it across her throat. The rest of her life drained away in a flash as bent his down and sucked away her soul.
I came too screaming