First off, I'd like to say I don't believe in superstition. You see, I was the leading scientist in search of a scientific elixir of life, a drug that could reverse rigor mortis and bring a dead man back to life. I didn't want to create Frankenstein, no, I never even thought about it. All I wanted was for a human being who had died to be back, alive, full of youth, and vibrant.
People loved to call my Science a part of the 'dark arts' and a 'twisted science', but I always replied such sentiment with a cold sneer. They believed we were created in 'God's image', so what was the big deal in me doing what he who created me had done? The didn't share my dream, they could never understand.
I'd gotten my first subject in the form of Cornelius Finch, a man who'd been executed at the electric chair for killing five members of his family; in which one lady survived to testify against him. It was a real debate on whether I should be allowed to perform such experiments on him because even if he died an evil man, he still didn't deserve such impure treatment.
I felt it was because they feared me because they knew I had created my drug, and I was about to perform a miracle.
On the very day, I administered the medicine, and I watched and waited. A faint pulse...his body jerked, and then nothing.
Outside, the crowd of people who wished for me to fail rejoiced as I announced the failure of the experiment. I was angry, distraught. Why did they see my science as evil, as madness?
I worked late into the night at my lab, seeking to find the faults in my drug and create a better, more effective one. Then the lights went off and it was all silent.
"Bother! Doesn't the electricity company understand the importance of..."
There was a loud jingle of keys right behind me. I remembered what the survivor said. That Mr. Cornelius carried a bunch of keys everywhere he went; that during that night of horror, she could hear the screams of his victims alongside the jingle...
A cold sharp knife pressed at my Adam's apple, and in a flash, my throat was slit, as the jingling became louder.
They say it takes a few seconds to go unconscious and die after your throat has been slit. For ten seconds, the sound of my wheezing windpipe and the numbness of the pain was drowned out by the jingling.
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This is my Second Entry for the @Jdine Birth Month giveaway going on at the Thriller and Horror Stories community. If you have the liver, gall, and heart to write and read a scary piece, you can join the contest using the links.
PROMPTS: Dark, Twisted, Cold, Silent, Dream.
Start: 10:12 am WAT
Stop: 10:21 am WAT
Timer: Laptop Clock
The previous one was better and made a build up from the atmosphere. This was rather sudden to me but it's still good