Tag Archives: kimberly heyward

Visitor from Hell – A short story

I do some work for fiverr. I posted my earlier successful poem “The Minotaur” which became my most successful post to date with 728 views.

This time I was asked to write a personalized horror story.  I overshot the word limit, but I don’t think she minded.  I thought I would share it with you.

Oh, and there should be trumpet fare and all kinds of celebrating, but I wasn’t paying enough attention:  This is my 400th Post!


Visitor from Hell

By Scott L Vannatter


The old, rusty chain must have weighed 80 pounds, Kimberly Heyward was not a tiny woman, but neither was she overly strong.  She pulled the links, sweat pouring down her back and making the flowery white blouse she wore damp and clingy.

She reached the massive door and dropped the metal rope to the floor with a ringing noise that echoed across the huge empty hallway.  Kimberly stopped and wiped her forehead with the back of her hand.  Flinging the droplets downward, she reached up and struggled to shut the opening by pushing the wooden portal across the stone.

The aperture creaked and groaned as it swung on its iron hinges.  The final closure sounded off through the towing room like a cannon.

Kimberly knew she couldn’t stop; she had to go or else the unimaginable would happen.  The demon could not get into the protected room once it was sealed.  Her family may have all been killed by this hellish thing, but she did not intend to give it the pleasure of completing its mission.

She said back, exhausted, in the newly-found quiet of her fortress.  Only three more hours until midnight and the black devil would be forced to return to the abyss it had been accidentally summoned from.  Kimberly swore to herself that she would never play with old books again, especially when they dealt with black magic.

A sickly laugh brought her to her feet.  Her eyes scanned the room, coming to rest on a moving shadow in the corner of the ceiling.  “It’s here!” she thought.  “It’s allowed me to lock myself in with it.”  She fought to keep panic from making her lose consciousness.  She had to think.  Her grandmother had taught her to never give up; never give in.  She would fight until she could no longer stand.

The shadow flapped its leathery wings and dropped to the floor.  Its claws scratched the stone as it slowly walked toward her.  Saliva dripped from its lower lip.  Kimberly was unabashedly scared.  She had reason to be.  She had seen the bodies.

The demon stopped about ten feet in front of her.  Its smile was crooked and nasty.  The smell was putrid.  Kimberly swallowed what tried to come back up.  Her brain was going a million miles an hour.  She reviewed everything in her head.

Then, she stopped; she pictured her husband, her son, and her daughter.  She had lost them all.  She had lost them all to this…thing.  Her heart hardened and her resolve set in.  All her fear moved aside, giving room to the new emotion that pulsed within her.  This rage engulfed her entire being and she drew the small ceremonial dagger she had put in her back pocket after the summoning had completed and before the demon had appeared.  She had forgotten it during all the initial fear.

Kimberly took three huge steps, forgetting her fear and panic and launched herself at the creature.  It swung its razor-tipped fingers at her face, grazing her cheek.  She did not feel the wound, but brought the dagger over her head and buried it to the hilt into the hell spawn’s chest.  Deep, dark blackened blood surged from the stab wound.  The creature howled, injured by loving rage almost more than the dagger itself.  It shimmered in the damp air and pulled inward.

The cavernous room shook and a ragged tearing hole appeared behind the demon.  It fell backwards, sucked into the opening and disappearing into the distance.  The opening vanished; the demon gone; the room grew quiet.

Kimberly, alone and victorious, sank to the floor.  The blade slipped from her fingers and aged into dust within seconds.  Her mind, coming to grips with all that had happened and how different her solitary future would now be, accepted the truth slowly, and tears began to issue forth from her reddened eyes.  She wept and sobbed, a winner without joy.


Philosophy is all about being curious, asking basic questions. And it can be fun!

North Noir


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