Drabble Wednesday: A Touch of Horror

So Drabble Wednesday is back, after a short break last week, with three more chilling tales for this spooky season.

Midnight

Tick, tick, tick.
Midnight is coming. Ever closer, always closer.
Mumbling the words, she rushed past the grandfather clock, her heels clicking loudly on the hallway’s marble floor. The soft rhythmic sound of the clock followed her, and she shuddered.
Always coming, always coming.
Stopping in front of a worn oaken door, her hand poised over the brass door handle.
Tick, tick, tick.
She closed her eyes, waiting again for the midnight chime.
I’m ready.
As the clock struck the first toll of twelve, she heard the soft growl on the other side of the door and turned the handle.

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Not A Treat

The rocking chair creaked on the dilapidated porch, the seated shadowy figure nodding in time to the wood’s cadence. He glanced down at the sack by his feet and smiled.
Lots of treats this Halloween. Quite the haul.
Closing his eyes, he tapped a foot on the floorboards of the porch as he rocked. When an echoing tap sounded from the railing, he ceased rocking, opening his eyes.
“Come to collect have you?” He reached down, picked up the sack and held it out.
“How many?”
“Five heads. All boys.”
He smiled as he watched the devil take his due…

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The Well

Cold grey stone with its edges cracked and crumbling, the well waited in the forest. Vines crept around its circumference, strangling the decaying mortar, burying their thorns deep. But the well remained, its dark waters sloshing against slimy mould and moss, its bottom submerged under a cold, wet abyss.
Sometimes the moonlight flickered through the trees, reflecting light against the surface, dancing a bit of hope within a dark prison. On those nights, when the light beckoned, dozens of little hands would reach up, up, straining to reach the surface, their silent screams calling for the rescue that never came.