Ripples

By John Mc Caffrey

After a horrific car accident claims the life of her husband and places her young son in a coma, Natalie is left alone in the house with her guilt. It was she who had sent them out that night, it should've been her behind the wheel. As she wanders the house, she begins to sense she has to answer for that nights events, and she's not entirely alone...

• Language: English
• Publisher: John Mc Caffrey
• Release date: Jun 9, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301633654

John Mc Caffrey

John Mc Caffrey writes tales of horror, the supernatural, science fiction, and fantasy. He was born in Illinois and grew up on the south side of Chicago. While still in grade school, he developed a passion for reading through the works of Tolkien, Poe, and Lovecraft as well as being addicted to watching Hammer Film's at the local Saturday matinee. Today he lives in northern Indiana with his wife and two dogs where he writes in his spare time. His works can be found at Amazon, Barnes & Noble and Smashwords as well as various anthologies.

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Copyright © 2013 by John Mc Caffrey

Published by John Mc Caffrey at Smashwords

First Edition, June 2013

This is a work of fiction. All characters and events in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real people or events are purely coincidental. All right reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced without the express written consent of the author.

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Ripples

by

John Mc Caffrey

Natalie shot up in bed, arms flailing in front of her as if to ward off an unseen attacker. Her eyes fluttered as she glanced around the bedroom. Had the nightmare followed her into the waking hours like some living thing? She could still hear the roar of the car as it bore down on her, the asphalt biting into her hands as she tried to crawl away. The oily reek of the pavement as well as the engine exhaust still filled her nostrils.

She closed her eyes and tried to swallow, her throat as dry as the blacktop she could still feel in her palms. She put a hand to her head and tried to calm herself, her heart skipping in her chest.

David, she whispered, laying back on the damp sheets. She glanced around the room, still looking for assurance she was alone. The shadow of the nightmare still clung like late morning fog, drifting just at the edge of sight.

She looked to the digital clock on the nightstand. Its softy glowing read-out showed four-thirty PM. She spotted the scotch bottle and accompanying glass that stood next to it, the ice in the latter long since gone to water. She looked longingly at the bottle, wanting to drink again. When drunk, the pain was not as great. The memories of that night receded deep into blissful oblivion. She found temporary comfort in the bottom of the scotch bottles but knew she should stay sober for Alex’s sake.

A headache tapped a cadence deep in her skull which was due to more than last nights drinking. She hadn’t slept properly in weeks, the sleeping pills Hendrickson prescribed for her did little more than add to her headaches. Although Dr. Hendrickson was supposed to help her with her grief, she found him full of lies. He possessed a condescending demeanor, and did little more than nod at odd times and stare at her legs. She hadn’t told him about the nightmares she’d been having. She didn’t need it explained